Here I very candidly talk about my reality of getting to know Tiny Human I am as open as I can be to tell a honest story that is in contrast to what I had known and believed before I went through it myself. Now is not the time to hold anything back, here I am putting it out there to tell a story that I think is not uncommon, just not commonly spoken about.
For all my life I have been lead to believe that when you first see your baby as parents you fall deeply in love with your newborn. I have since heard other mothers tell me frequently how much they love their brand new children or that it was love at first sight. When this happens, I smile nicely and wait for someone else to speak and change the subject. Love did not come instantly for me and Tiny Human, I didn't even like the little guy. What was wrong with me?
Perhaps my position started even before the little guy was born. During pregnancy I didn't feel what I felt I was "supposed" to. I didn't talk to my belly or look down at it lovingly. I didn't feel a sense of connection apart from the physical. Firstly, this kid caused me intense anxiety and physical illness in the first trimester. Then it messed with my hips and made walking and moving difficult some days. In the last trimester I was fat and tired and hot and tired.
I kept reminding myself this was what I wanted and that it would all be worth it when I had my own Tiny Human. But the truth was I knew attaching to my baby was going to be a battle and none of my feelings (or lack of) came as a surprise.
During pregnancy, I had been referred to the perinatal mental health worker as I had checked a box in admission that said I had been exposed to abuse or neglect as a child. She often reassured me that attachment and feeling connected to your unborn child is not a given and that some mother's don't feel that. This made me feel a little better at the time but did not take away that I actually wanted to love and the lovely feelings to be present. I wanted what the other mums had.
When they pulled this (not so) Tiny Human from my belly, I felt something different. Perhaps it was relief he was okay, perhaps it was calm after my heart rate returned to normal, maybe it was happiness. Whatever it was, it didn't last. Quickly any positive feeling was squashed out of the way by fear and anxiety and an overwhelming questioning of why I had done this and how I was going to get through it.
As the days continued I was sore and stressed and solely focused on feeding Tiny Human. The feeding didn't come easy and I took this as another sign that something was wrong with me, that I just wasn't cut out for this mum thing. (I know, I know, breastfeeding is hard. I thank my friends for sharing this reality with me when they went through the struggle, it helped me to appreciate the difficulty). Unfortunately knowing these things happen to other mums, doesn't make me feel any better about myself.
So, I was frustrated with Tiny Human. I wanted him to sleep better and feed better. He didn't agree. He was a tiny little parasite (the slightly cute kind) who needed me constantly. I started doubting everything. Why did I have a baby? Could I do it all? One night I woke Chris up to cry to him how we had made a mistake taking on the girls. My hormones were a mess and wanted to run away from my family - I didn't want all this responsibility.
I can be candid with my feelings with the mental health team and Chris. We had all been prepared for my attachment to the baby being difficult. That didn't make it feel any better though. I felt like a failure, a sick person, a terrible mother, a mess. What I felt was all negative. Logically I could cut myself some slack, I knew myself, I knew this wasn't at all abnormal - we had expected it remember! But logic and emotion did not clash, they would not compromise. I could not escape the feeling of having made a mistake.
I was referred to the perinatal psychiatrist and then a psychologist. They looked at me with such concern and thankfully it just made me feel supported (this in itself was a foreign experience). It helped to feel like there was this wrap around of people ready to help me. In the early days I was also introduced to the Breastfeeding Support Clinic at the Early Childhood Centre. Three weeks in a row Chris, the baby and I talked to a lactation specialist about breastfeeding and everything else that was going on. I had another source of support.
Those that know me, know I never ask for support. In fact when people say things like "call me if you need anything," they surely follow it up with "I know you won't." It felt good to not have to ask and to have it handed to me. Then it felt wrong to accept it. More negativity ran rampant through my body and mind. There are people that need these services more than me. Why was I being so weak? I was supposed to be able to handle anything life threw at me. Then the thoughts shifted... I am a client, I used to work with people like me! What a loser!
Again, logically I could explain this was a good idea and it would help me, but my emotions ran through my veins and controlled my thoughts no matter how much told them to calm down. Now, I can look back on these days and know that I was in need of the help, I accepted it, acted on it and was made stronger for having been exposed to it.
Back to the little guy. So, for the first few months of his life I never referred to Kingsley by name. I would call him "the baby". Not my baby. Nothing affectionate. Nothing that connected him to me. I didn't view him as mine. He was not someone, he was a something. A thing I needed to feed, change and rock rigorously to sleep. The psychologist that saw me knew this. One day, maybe when he was about 7 weeks old, she caught me call him by name. She pointed it out to me because I had not noticed. It felt weird. It was about this time that I tried to sing a song to me that referred to him as "my baby boy". Rather than serenading my little baby, I started to cry. I could not get the words out, I could not link the baby to me.
Perhaps being a foster parent played a role in this understanding of what it was like to have my child. I had had children in my life for a few years which were not mine. They came and went and they were never mine. Although they are not going anywhere and I love them and treat them as if they are, Leah and Little Tara are not mine. Why would my body suddenly know the difference between this new child and all the others I had cared for.
My experience started to change when he started to smile at me. He transformed from a thing to a being. Suddenly he was a Tiny Human. And this Tiny Human was no longer just here to be fed and rocked and changed by me, he enjoyed me... perhaps I started to believe he liked me. A few weeks later I realized, I liked him. I told Chris and I told the psychologist. I felt proud. I was now being a real mum, I actually liked my baby. It felt like an achievement. Still I rarely referred to him by name and didn't use phrases like "my baby", but I liked the kid, that was a good start. He was 9 weeks old.
Like is a distant friend to love; sometimes like doesn't develop into love. Plenty of adult relationships are built on like and turn into love... plenty of them end because love never comes. Would love come to Tiny Human and I?
With this new found experience of liking my baby, I had more new feelings. I was more protective of him. As the girls became more interested in him and his funny smile, I felt I needed to watch them and keep him safe. Of course I was doing this before, but it seemed to come from a different place. I was no longer protecting an innocent, vulnerable baby, I was protecting this little dude that I was okay with having around. I also started to feel jealous when he shared his smiles with other people; even when it was just his dad or sisters. My liking him was correlated to him liking me and somehow when he liked other people it threatened his like of me. As I type this I hear the craziness in my words, but that didn't matter to me.
For New Years Eve my parents had offered to take care of all three kids. I beefed it up to two nights away. Unlike other mums I hear of who struggle to leave their new babies in the beginning, I was looking forward to it. I was excited for someone else to care for him and the girls for TWO NIGHTS. A few days before it was actually going to happen I was met with a weird feeling of nerves. Was I okay with this I questioned for a moment... of course I was!
The day came to leave the house, we packed the car. Said goodbye to the girls and my parents and I went into the room where a sleeping Kingsley was, I kissed him on the leg trying not to wake him and out of nowhere I said "I love you". It was unexpected and I almost didn't hear myself. Oh cool, I thought, I finally love the baby. He was two and half months old; 11 weeks.
As I finally finish this post I started when Kinglsey was 9 weeks old, he is now just about 4 months. I read the transition and am glad I was able to open and honest with myself about it. I recognise what sounded crazy and what was my reality and that even though these two descriptions are mine, I am okay with that. I appreciate that it was my honesty about the issue that made it somewhat easier and made it possible for me to move forward.
I also believe that the people I allowed to have around me made a huge different in me being about to feel okay at the end of this. Thank you.
Lastly, I want to say that if anything in my story sounds familiar, let it out. Talk about the real world. And if it sounds very foreign, that is okay too. We all have our own experiences in everything else in life, why should loving our babies be any different?
Sunday, 12 February 2017
Saturday, 21 January 2017
Chrissy and his Tiny Human
For many of them, being a dad is sometimes a part-time gig,
So when on holidays he may get to see that as a job, it is a very big.
Although Chrissy has been aware of needs of our Tiny Human Kingsley,
Our time away allowed him appreciate the fun times with this baby.
They now have a beautiful evening ritual, just daddy and son,
I watch as my husband coos with the little dude, both having fun.
He dries the bath water playfully of the pale, soft skin,
And the face on the little guy shows his enjoyment with an ear to ear grin.
I see the long, lingering, eye contact between baby and daddy,
The way their faces soften and I can see they are in love, madly.
Chrissy holds onto Kinglsey's hands and does their little dance,
They smile and sing as they catch each other glance after glance.
The ritual bertween the boy and man continues with moisturiser time,
Chrissy takes it in his hands and starts with the legs and Tiny enjoys that just fine.
He rubs the cream on the arms and head then gets baby giggles on the belly,
Lastly the Chrissy massages the back with the little guy on his tummy.
Chrissy makes baby sounds and Kingsley's face is beautifully animated,
Then it's time to get the small dude dressed and they are both elated.
I smile at my gorgeous boys and Chrrisy's big arms embrace our son,
And I hope tomorrow after a shower or bath I get to spy on similiar fun.
Saturday, 31 December 2016
20 things only a mother of an infant can understand
Being a new mum to a new baby is a tough task. It is all about sleep deprivation, being needed 24/7 and feeling like you still don't know quite what you are doing. Here is a compilation of new experiences for me from the past 11 weeks...
1. Hallucinating baby cries when in fact the little man is sound asleep in his bassinet. Even sometimes "hearing" baby cries when he is in your arms happily eating away at the boob.
2. Constantly caressing your own boobs to identify if it is food time for the tiny being and if it is, which side to give him to gnaw on.
3. Packing 10 changes of clothes for the baby when you are staying over at your in-laws, but only one change for yourself (which is quickly covered in sweat, tears, fresh and regurgitated boob milk) and no jammies.
4. Wanting to enjoy the time you are able to go to the shops on your own whilst hubby has the little guy but constantly feeling like you might have left him in a store somewhere.
5. Trying to come up with new a fun responses for when friends, family and random people on the street tell you how adorable your child is but only responding with the same thing "yep, when he's not screaming, he's quite cute".
6. Or what about when they say how well you are looking and you have to question are they lying or did you always look this disheveled, fat, tired and overwhelmed. Seriously if you could see my stomach you would not be saying some positive things, that body part is what horror movies are made of.
7. Feeling like you are presentable because this shirt only smells a little bit like vomit. It seems like I am often saying "Pfft, who cares, I can go to the shops/walk/park like this" when really the thought should be "I think this top belongs in the washing basket... wait when was the last time I brushed my hair...?"
8. Not wanting to be intimate in your partner because you never felt less sexy in your life and you don't want to put him through that kind of trauma of having to pretend to appreciate your body.
9. Constantly stressing over when another human did a poo; what colour was it? what was the consistency? how much was there? did it smell? Oh crap did he just put his foot in it?!!!
10. Not being able to say what time you will be anywhere because "it all depends on the baby".
11. Trying not to obsessively compare the little person to what the internet says he should be doing/what size he should be... but doing so anyway.
12. Constantly talking to the mute baby as if he can understand everything you say and interpreting his silence, gurgles or cries as legitimate responses.
13. When your little person sleeps a little longer in the night, but you have been awake since 1am because your body is so used to waking every three hours it does it without prompting.
14. Trying super duper hard to be content with just sorting half a load of laundry today when your list of things to do was longer than this blog post.
15. Knowing that your partner will never quite understand what it means to be on-call 24/7 to a small person whilst still making the house run smoothly and therefore why he complains every time you take him away from his computer/nap/sports to do something like hang out the washing... but wishing that he would so you could stop feeling like you have an extra child.
16. Watching this weird mini being sleep, kick, swing or stare at nothing for as long as he will let you.
17. Experiencing a bond and connection different from any other and being amazed at the effect he can have on your heart.
18. Having a meal with your partner and realising your days are consumed by being a parent so the most exciting thing you can add to the conversation is that you tried to new nappies and they were no good.
19. Getting sheer enjoyment from dressing the small person in cute clothes and distributing photos of him to all your contacts no matter how uninterested they are.
20. And finally... knowing there is never going to be anything quite as wonderful in the world as when the baby smiles at you with his whole face...
1. Hallucinating baby cries when in fact the little man is sound asleep in his bassinet. Even sometimes "hearing" baby cries when he is in your arms happily eating away at the boob.
2. Constantly caressing your own boobs to identify if it is food time for the tiny being and if it is, which side to give him to gnaw on.
3. Packing 10 changes of clothes for the baby when you are staying over at your in-laws, but only one change for yourself (which is quickly covered in sweat, tears, fresh and regurgitated boob milk) and no jammies.
4. Wanting to enjoy the time you are able to go to the shops on your own whilst hubby has the little guy but constantly feeling like you might have left him in a store somewhere.
5. Trying to come up with new a fun responses for when friends, family and random people on the street tell you how adorable your child is but only responding with the same thing "yep, when he's not screaming, he's quite cute".
6. Or what about when they say how well you are looking and you have to question are they lying or did you always look this disheveled, fat, tired and overwhelmed. Seriously if you could see my stomach you would not be saying some positive things, that body part is what horror movies are made of.
7. Feeling like you are presentable because this shirt only smells a little bit like vomit. It seems like I am often saying "Pfft, who cares, I can go to the shops/walk/park like this" when really the thought should be "I think this top belongs in the washing basket... wait when was the last time I brushed my hair...?"
8. Not wanting to be intimate in your partner because you never felt less sexy in your life and you don't want to put him through that kind of trauma of having to pretend to appreciate your body.
9. Constantly stressing over when another human did a poo; what colour was it? what was the consistency? how much was there? did it smell? Oh crap did he just put his foot in it?!!!
10. Not being able to say what time you will be anywhere because "it all depends on the baby".
11. Trying not to obsessively compare the little person to what the internet says he should be doing/what size he should be... but doing so anyway.
12. Constantly talking to the mute baby as if he can understand everything you say and interpreting his silence, gurgles or cries as legitimate responses.
13. When your little person sleeps a little longer in the night, but you have been awake since 1am because your body is so used to waking every three hours it does it without prompting.
14. Trying super duper hard to be content with just sorting half a load of laundry today when your list of things to do was longer than this blog post.
15. Knowing that your partner will never quite understand what it means to be on-call 24/7 to a small person whilst still making the house run smoothly and therefore why he complains every time you take him away from his computer/nap/sports to do something like hang out the washing... but wishing that he would so you could stop feeling like you have an extra child.
16. Watching this weird mini being sleep, kick, swing or stare at nothing for as long as he will let you.
17. Experiencing a bond and connection different from any other and being amazed at the effect he can have on your heart.
18. Having a meal with your partner and realising your days are consumed by being a parent so the most exciting thing you can add to the conversation is that you tried to new nappies and they were no good.
19. Getting sheer enjoyment from dressing the small person in cute clothes and distributing photos of him to all your contacts no matter how uninterested they are.
20. And finally... knowing there is never going to be anything quite as wonderful in the world as when the baby smiles at you with his whole face...
Monday, 28 November 2016
Having a newborn
Having a newborn is like having scrambled eggs where your brain should be;
Like everyone is speaking another language and you can't think clearly;
Or constantly having the car radio up loud when you are trying to find an address
Whilst someone is talking to you and your windscreen is a mess.
Having as newborn is planning your outfits around how easily accessible your boob is;
It's not knowing what time you will be there as you don't know when he will be in a tizz;
It's being comfortable with screaming, everyone seeing your boobs and curious strangers
Even when you are so fed up and people talking to you is something that angers.
Having a newborn is doing twenty-five things at once but not finishing a thing;
It's forgetting if you washed the shampoo out before you put the conditioner in;
And it's about trying to prioritise and make a list of what needs to be done;
Then remembering you haven't eaten, looking for food, opening the fridge and seeing none.
Having a newborn is catching those little flickers of smiles and glints in their eyes;
It's remembering those tender, rare moments when all he seems to do is cries;
It's knowing he recognises you because he kicks and coos when you go to his bed
Or when he grabs onto your clothes and nuzzles under your chin with his little head.
Like everyone is speaking another language and you can't think clearly;
Or constantly having the car radio up loud when you are trying to find an address
Whilst someone is talking to you and your windscreen is a mess.
Having as newborn is planning your outfits around how easily accessible your boob is;
It's not knowing what time you will be there as you don't know when he will be in a tizz;
It's being comfortable with screaming, everyone seeing your boobs and curious strangers
Even when you are so fed up and people talking to you is something that angers.
Having a newborn is doing twenty-five things at once but not finishing a thing;
It's forgetting if you washed the shampoo out before you put the conditioner in;
And it's about trying to prioritise and make a list of what needs to be done;
Then remembering you haven't eaten, looking for food, opening the fridge and seeing none.
Having a newborn is catching those little flickers of smiles and glints in their eyes;
It's remembering those tender, rare moments when all he seems to do is cries;
It's knowing he recognises you because he kicks and coos when you go to his bed
Or when he grabs onto your clothes and nuzzles under your chin with his little head.
Saturday, 26 November 2016
The Magical Balance
The midwifes tell me that when a baby sleeps for a longer period, they pay you back with sleeping less at another time. I see it as a magical (and evil) balance. It means that if you have a great night with your baby and he sleeps for five hours in the night, hold back from rejoicing and thinking the silly bubba has turned a corner. Because the following hours or day he will pay you back.
In all fairness there is some logic to this. Babies need to wake up because they need to eat. If they din't wake up, they still need the same amount of calories each 24 hours. That doesn't mean having a bigger breakfast, baby's stomach is still no bigger than their tiny little fist. Silly babies might eat more but that is never the end of it. No sir-ee, when they eat more than their tummies can take, their tummies reject the extra and the extra ends up on mummy's shirt and shoulder.
And so the balance plays out. We get the good with the bad. I get a good baby at night, so the magical balance says I can get a screamy-mc-screamy baby during the day. But don't feel sorry for those parents who feel they have a difficult infant all the time, well the balance (and old wives tales) would predict that they get a great toddler.
I think the same goes for my mental health.
Having a baby is no easy business. After the little person exits your body, he leaves behind a wreck! It is not pretty place. My stomach is wobbly and scarred, my waist has gone, my thighs (which were too big to begin with) feel like they will never fit into a pair of pants that were not made for clown costume! Ew! The other side of the ew is the crazy brain craziness. The hormones get mixed with the sleep deprivation and turmoil ensues. When that plays with my long standing depression, my mood is expectedly a up and down roller coaster.
I am coming to learn that my mood has a magical balance as well. One good day equals one bad day and similar equations. Between Tiny Human and me, sometimes they balances mirror each other, sometimes they impact each other, other times there is no correlation - they follow their own pattern of balance.
In short...
In all fairness there is some logic to this. Babies need to wake up because they need to eat. If they din't wake up, they still need the same amount of calories each 24 hours. That doesn't mean having a bigger breakfast, baby's stomach is still no bigger than their tiny little fist. Silly babies might eat more but that is never the end of it. No sir-ee, when they eat more than their tummies can take, their tummies reject the extra and the extra ends up on mummy's shirt and shoulder.
And so the balance plays out. We get the good with the bad. I get a good baby at night, so the magical balance says I can get a screamy-mc-screamy baby during the day. But don't feel sorry for those parents who feel they have a difficult infant all the time, well the balance (and old wives tales) would predict that they get a great toddler.
I think the same goes for my mental health.
Having a baby is no easy business. After the little person exits your body, he leaves behind a wreck! It is not pretty place. My stomach is wobbly and scarred, my waist has gone, my thighs (which were too big to begin with) feel like they will never fit into a pair of pants that were not made for clown costume! Ew! The other side of the ew is the crazy brain craziness. The hormones get mixed with the sleep deprivation and turmoil ensues. When that plays with my long standing depression, my mood is expectedly a up and down roller coaster.
I am coming to learn that my mood has a magical balance as well. One good day equals one bad day and similar equations. Between Tiny Human and me, sometimes they balances mirror each other, sometimes they impact each other, other times there is no correlation - they follow their own pattern of balance.
In short...
Good Luck
Tuesday, 8 November 2016
How much do you weigh?
In our society weight is such a taboo subject to talk about. We might discuss diets and exercise and health food but disclose the number on the scales nuh uh we don't do that... with a few exceptions.
Firstly if you have lost a lot of weight and are really proud of the figure staring back at you when you step on the scales then you may mention that figure. But unsurprisingly I'm not commenting on that today.
I want to chat about the second exception to the role: when you are pregnant. Weighing yourself is part of the frequent check ups and gets recorded on your little yellow card. You question how much is too much? How will you lose it? How much of that is baby?
At 41 weeks I weighed 102kg. It was painful to see the number rise above 100. Logically I knew that I was growing a human being and my body had changed to support that growth. I knew I was eating fairly healthy. And I knew that a great deal of that was water and baby related fluid. Also my midwife wasn't concerned about the steady gains. Rational thought doesn't mean anything to former anorexic who was already over conscious of her 80kgs before she got pregnant.
Now that Tiny Human is outside my body the scales remain an evil enemy. My scales says 90kg and my body says ew! Now I hate my icky body but there is little I can do about it. Dieting is not quite recommended when one is breastfeeding. In fact it is recommended that new breastfeeding mums don't lose more than one kilo a month! A month!!!! That means by the time the little guy turns one, I would be back to my pre-baby weight, which was too heavy already. Of course I don't need to listen to this guideline, but I do have to eat enough to produce good quality and a good quantity of milk.
My weight and body will continue to be a topic on my mind until I can gain some kind of control of it. Whilst I struggle with the high number on the scale when I step on it, I will also be forced to obsess about the number that blinks back at me when I put Kingsley on the scale.
The last exception to the "don't talk about weight" rule is that of a new born. It's one of the first stats mentioned when he first comes out and everyone wants to know. Then weighing your bub becomes a weekly obsession. It also feels like a direct reflection of me and my ability to look after my child especially because I'm breast feeding.
Kingsley was a big baby at 4.56 and was long rather than chubby. His size was talked about with every midwife at the hospital and by every visitor and well wisher from our lives. This initially didn't bother me one bit. It was kind of fun to have this large baby that people wanted to talk about.
Then he got weighed on discharge at 4.35 and I was pleased that he had lost so little weight. Why was I pleased? It could have been because it meant he was healthy but it was most likely because it made me feel like I was doing something right. As a breastfeeding mum, it meant that I was able to provide enough for my bubba to avoid him losing too much of his fat stores.
Then we got home and things changed a little. He was weighed a few times and suddenly it looked like his weight had gone down. What was this about? What had I done wrong? How was I failing my child? Why was my body not doing what it meant to do my bubba? These are the things that ran through my mind. It was all about me. My child's weight was a direct refection of me and my ability to care for him. Everything I did was called into question.
Almost a week later, things were not much better and again I was doubting myself. Was I not enough? Would I have to give up on breastfeeding? It seemed to cut to my core. Why is that?
A few weeks ago a friend of mine had a stranger comment on a picture of her son. The stranger said her son looked malnourished and she should feed him. This random comment felt like a direct attack on her and she opened up about her birth story and the days following in which feeding her son was more than a challenge due to the complications in birth. She felt she needed to defend herself and comment on just how touchy the topic of food and her child is. It highlighted for me the pressure on parents (especially mother's?) to ensure their child is growing and putting on weight as they should (or as other's perceive they should?).
So, when I weighed my son on Monday and he came in at 4.72 it felt like I was vindicated. I had fed my son and given him what he needed. I was being a good mother. I was providing for my child.
As I work to make the number decrease when I step on a scale and try even harder to make sure the number increases when the baby is weighed I want to remind myself to take it easy... but I know I won't. These are the pressures of being a woman and a mother in our society. And the added pressure of my high expectations on myself.
Firstly if you have lost a lot of weight and are really proud of the figure staring back at you when you step on the scales then you may mention that figure. But unsurprisingly I'm not commenting on that today.
I want to chat about the second exception to the role: when you are pregnant. Weighing yourself is part of the frequent check ups and gets recorded on your little yellow card. You question how much is too much? How will you lose it? How much of that is baby?
At 41 weeks I weighed 102kg. It was painful to see the number rise above 100. Logically I knew that I was growing a human being and my body had changed to support that growth. I knew I was eating fairly healthy. And I knew that a great deal of that was water and baby related fluid. Also my midwife wasn't concerned about the steady gains. Rational thought doesn't mean anything to former anorexic who was already over conscious of her 80kgs before she got pregnant.
Now that Tiny Human is outside my body the scales remain an evil enemy. My scales says 90kg and my body says ew! Now I hate my icky body but there is little I can do about it. Dieting is not quite recommended when one is breastfeeding. In fact it is recommended that new breastfeeding mums don't lose more than one kilo a month! A month!!!! That means by the time the little guy turns one, I would be back to my pre-baby weight, which was too heavy already. Of course I don't need to listen to this guideline, but I do have to eat enough to produce good quality and a good quantity of milk.
My weight and body will continue to be a topic on my mind until I can gain some kind of control of it. Whilst I struggle with the high number on the scale when I step on it, I will also be forced to obsess about the number that blinks back at me when I put Kingsley on the scale.
The last exception to the "don't talk about weight" rule is that of a new born. It's one of the first stats mentioned when he first comes out and everyone wants to know. Then weighing your bub becomes a weekly obsession. It also feels like a direct reflection of me and my ability to look after my child especially because I'm breast feeding.
Kingsley was a big baby at 4.56 and was long rather than chubby. His size was talked about with every midwife at the hospital and by every visitor and well wisher from our lives. This initially didn't bother me one bit. It was kind of fun to have this large baby that people wanted to talk about.
Then he got weighed on discharge at 4.35 and I was pleased that he had lost so little weight. Why was I pleased? It could have been because it meant he was healthy but it was most likely because it made me feel like I was doing something right. As a breastfeeding mum, it meant that I was able to provide enough for my bubba to avoid him losing too much of his fat stores.
Then we got home and things changed a little. He was weighed a few times and suddenly it looked like his weight had gone down. What was this about? What had I done wrong? How was I failing my child? Why was my body not doing what it meant to do my bubba? These are the things that ran through my mind. It was all about me. My child's weight was a direct refection of me and my ability to care for him. Everything I did was called into question.
Almost a week later, things were not much better and again I was doubting myself. Was I not enough? Would I have to give up on breastfeeding? It seemed to cut to my core. Why is that?
A few weeks ago a friend of mine had a stranger comment on a picture of her son. The stranger said her son looked malnourished and she should feed him. This random comment felt like a direct attack on her and she opened up about her birth story and the days following in which feeding her son was more than a challenge due to the complications in birth. She felt she needed to defend herself and comment on just how touchy the topic of food and her child is. It highlighted for me the pressure on parents (especially mother's?) to ensure their child is growing and putting on weight as they should (or as other's perceive they should?).
So, when I weighed my son on Monday and he came in at 4.72 it felt like I was vindicated. I had fed my son and given him what he needed. I was being a good mother. I was providing for my child.
As I work to make the number decrease when I step on a scale and try even harder to make sure the number increases when the baby is weighed I want to remind myself to take it easy... but I know I won't. These are the pressures of being a woman and a mother in our society. And the added pressure of my high expectations on myself.
How much do you weigh?
Friday, 4 November 2016
Random parenting thoughts: the first 2 weeks
So, my understanding was this...
Newborns do nothing but eat, poop, cry and sleep.
It was not stressed to me that infants do not know how to sleep and they need to be taught... taught how to sleep? How the crappers do you do that? I don't remember learning how to sleep, how am I supposed to know how to teach it. Unfortunately for mummy and daddy Mr Tiny Human is not a fast learner.
If I can offer some advice to a any new mums out there that is impossible for you to act on, I would suggest you don't get a cold right after having your stomach cut open! Coughing, sneezing and blowing your nose is so impossibly painful when you have layers of stitches in your belly.
Ew, I smell... perhaps I should shower? When did I last shower? Crappers is that the baby waking? Yep, shower will have to wait.... 2 days later... Ew, I smell etc.
How much crying is too much crying? How much crying is from fatigue and how much is due to wanting to go back in time to when you were 25 carefree, unattached and childless? Then I could sleep when I want, eat when I want... get drunk and be hungover, throw up everywhere and have no one to worry about except my own sorry ass!
PAUSE typing I hear the baby...
So... I started writing this when Kingsley was 2 weeks old, then I got distracted and suddenly he is 3 weeks old tomorrow. This a reflection of how much free time I have.
TMI: one of the fun things that happens after childbirth is bleeding. What makes the bleeding so much more exciting are maternity pads. These things are crazy thick and long! Unsurprisingly, these mammoth pads do not breathe so irritation comes along with the territory. Crazy cool fun!
OMG my back! My crazy huge baby is killing me! At almost a full kilo bigger than the average Australian newborn, my not so Tiny Human is a real test to my back and shoulders when I am lifting, settling and feeding. His head alone gives my arm cramps when feeding! What am I supposed to do when he gets heavier?
I love my pram! Love, love, love! Good pick Tara! Go you.
Sleep is hard to come by with a newborn. One does not suddenly get more sleep, one gets used to the deprivation.
I am so anxious about the baby waking up that I hallucinate and hear him when he is not crying!
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