The surrealism of Motherhood...

The very lovely Carly over at Wives & Daughters, is holding a fantastic carnival, with a bunch of great prizes up for grabs, all about people's top 10 surreal mummy moments. To be perfectly honest, as a first time mummy, everything is still a bit surreal most days (even now, nearly 10 months on!), but I've narrowed it down, and here's my top ten...

1. Laying in the bath at 8 months pregnant (having had help from the Mr to get in there in the first place), watching my bump literally wriggling - less movement in the last trimester? Yeah.  Tell that to the Little Dude.

2. Coming round after my emergency c-section to see the Mr looking like an extra from Scrubs, with a tiny little baby in his arms and me asking 'is he ours?'.  (He was.)

3. Day 3 - 4am feed - having been awake for about 26 hours, I was sat with the Little Dude breastfeeding and me watching god-awful infomercials, thinking who on earth watches this junk let alone buys it? And then thinking, ooh, actually, that looks pretty good...

4. The first time I phoned the doctors to book LD an appointment (for his first round of jabs).  Saying the words 'I'd like to book an appointment for my son', out loud, to a complete stranger - suddenly made everything very real, and a bit odd.  In a good way.

5. The first time we left him with someone else for a whole day.  We had tickets to see Blur in Hyde Park, I had been looking forward to it forEVER, but spent all day feling like I'd lost a limb.  So surreal.  And just when I managed to stop being a big sap, and start to relax & enjoy myself, I found a small felt fish in my bag which nearly made me blub.

6. The first time the LD rolled over and pushed himself up.  I squealed.  I cheered. I took a dozen photos. I phoned the Mr at work and gushed incoherently. I so wasn't prepared for that insane rush of pride & joy over something so small!

7. Having cBeebies tunes ingrained in my brain.  We don't even watch much TV (LD prefers to rock out to music of the loud & noisy variety), but I have lost count of the times I've caught myself singing the 'munch munch munch' song while getting lunch ready.

8. What has become affectionately known in our house as 'the Tombliboo incident.' 
We were Christmas shopping, and came across some cute lil Night Garden Beanies - I picked out one of each, but oh no - there was no Tombliboo Eee! I stood, in a very busy shop, with an armful of Night Garden beanies, and shouted to the Mr 'Babe, can you ask if they've got anymore Tombliboo Eee's - because there's no point in buying them if we can't get a full set of Tombliboos!'  Oh. The. Shame.

9. Other Mummys.  I still find it quite surreal that I can start a conversation & chat for hours with a complete stranger purely on the basis that we're both mummys.  Those tiny little people who rule our lives are quite the ice-breaker, no?

10. The mush factor.  The first gummy grin.  The consequent toothy smiles.  The tinkly baby chuckles.  The chubby armed cuddeles.  The 'kisses' (ie: open mouth, plant on mummy's face with a hefty portion of dribble).  I had no idea the power those little things would have to turn me to a complete mushy mess of goo.
Love it though :)

And there we are.
Ask me again next week & I'll probably have chalked up a whole bunch of new surreal moments. But that's all part of the fun of being a mummy.

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The Great Boob Controversy... Part 2

You may or may not have read my first post on The Great Breast Feeding Debate, where I reflected on my own boob related trials and tribulations.

If not, the long and short of it, is that I am neither pro or anti breast feeding, I am, as with most things in life, pro choice.

And I thought that was it, got my little rant out of my system, contributed my 2p to the worldwide discussion, job done.

Until today.

Here are the events that led to my need for a little vent-age part deux:

This morning, we had no milk. Arg. Cannot function without morning coffee, cannot bear my caffeine black. So, scooped the little man into the pram (having failed to locate babasling - told you I can't function without the beans!!), and scooted round the corner to the supermarket.

I was casually browsing the biscuit aisle (well, I'd made the effort to go out all early, I deserved a reward :P), when a little old lady clutching a packet of rich teas peered into the pram & came out with the usual 'aaah, what a lovely baby - how old?', I smiled, said 15 weeks, blah blah blah - you know the drill, new baby = attention = polite chit chat with strangers, usually of the older female variety, all very pleasant.

Until out of nowhere, Mrs Rich Tea asks "and are you managing to feed him yourself?"
WTF???!!!
Random stranger making small talk about how sweet my baby is: fine.
Random stranger enquiring as to my boobs & their functionality? Not fine.

But, she totaly blindsided me, so rather than reply 'um, none of yer business actually!', I kept up the flawless British politeness & said 'yes, I am thanks, struggled to start with but got there in the end!' (remember - caffeine gauge is at zero, I had respect for my elders bread into me from an early age, and at least didn't go into the whole 'actually, i'm mixing boobs & bottles' palava!)

She replies "Oh thank goodness - too many girls your age take the easy route because they're so worried about losing their figures - I mean really, do they love their breasts more than their baby? It's so silly."

Again: WTF???!!!

Rather than launch myself at her and point out that
a. women of ALL ages struggle with and/or decide against breast feeding,
b. bottle feeding is by no means an 'easy route', particuarly not with idiots around who make new mums feel unfit & selfish for doing so,
c. not one bottle feeding mum I know is doing so to preserve the perfect cleavage, or
d. having just had a baby, my figure is already pretty much trashed - so breast feeding is the least of my worries!!!
I nodded politely, smiled through griited teeth & bitten tongue & said we'd best be off as the little dude was actually due a feed any minute.
(A lie, he'd had a hefty portion of boob juice before we left, but a white lie is better than an old lady with a black eye, right?)

Seriously though, what are people like Mrs Rich Tea looking to achieve?!
I silently fumed to myself the whole way home, partly because of her complete ignorance, but mostly because of my own lameness in not telling her off.

Not that it would have made any difference I suppose, she obviously knew best - having probably succesfully breast fed a dozen children fifty-odd years ago, clearly making her an expert in infant nutrition.
Choose your battles Leslieanne, choose your battles!!

Okay, that's definitely rant over. For now at least ;)

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The controversy of boobies!

So as a new mummy, I can't help but keep up with the mountain of media coverage breast feeding has been attracting lately.

My first thought on the whole thing, is why is it all such a big deal?
Why do so many people who aren't even mothers, care so much about how those who DO have children, feed them?
(prime example - the breast feeding consultant who 'helpfully' manhandled my boobs in hospital, has no children, yet made it her mission to get me lactating like a jersey cow. go figure.)

Secondly, those who apparently find breast feeding in public 'offensive' or 'inappropriate'- what exactly is your problem please?
If you find it so terribly awful, here's a suggestion: don't look.
We are not doing it for attention, it's not a peep show (in my own experience, I'll use anything available - blankie, bib, babies head - to make sure I'm flashing as little boob as possible!), we're doing a job. Would you rather a hungry screaming baby interrupt your oh-so-civilised cappuccino & browse through the times? Thought not.

Thirdly, those of you out there who are so fiercely pro-breastfeeding you view formula as the devil's baby juice & mums who use it as unfit, selfish anti-mothers, how about sparing a though for those who can't breastfeed?
Oh I know I know, 'it's the most natural thing in the world', 'breast is best', blah blah blah, but as with most things in life, sometimes it just doesn't pan out.

And the last thing a new mum who can't, or has decided not to breast feed needs, is someone who doesn't matter judging her decision.

Because ultimately, that's what it's all about - each individual mother making her own choice. And it should be an informed choice - as my good friends cafe bebe & OMG Pregnant have been discussing, and it should be respected.

Personally, I always wanted to breastfeed. I didn't even think about it, just assumed it'd all fall into place.
WRONG!
My birth was traumatic.
Afterwards, I was exhausted, and the little dude was too.
We tried almost immediately, he wasn't interested.
A little later, the breastfeeding consultant came to visit, poked, prodded, and shoved my boob into the little dude's face, not happening.
A little later still, he woke up from a nap & I tried myself, he got there. I was full of joy. For about 7 seconds.
Oh my God it hurt.
Nobody had told me 'the most natural thing in the world' would make me want to swear like a sailor.
But I persisted. After a week of feeding on demand, often 2 hourly for an hour at a time, my boobs, and me were a mess.
The HV came round to weigh the little man, he had lost 14% of his body weight. I was distraught. I was so disheartened. I felt like a failure.
We had to take him back into hospital, he was weak & listless & just didn't have the energy to feed.
They gave him some formula through a tube (which utterly broke my heart) & encouraged me to express as much milk as I could, which went down too.
(NB: they lent me an electric breast pump - that did NOT help my painful boobs one bit. Imagine a hoover latched to your nips. Yeah, owch.)
Withing 48 hours, he was back at my boobs.
It was still killing me, but I was so relieved, I grinned & bared it.
The doctor's guessed that he may have been 'lazy feeding', I didn't care, it all semed to be fixed, we could take him home, I was happy.
A week later, still feeding on demand what felt like a thousand times a day (and night!) the HV weighed him again, he'd put on 3 ounces.
That was my lowest point.
HV suggested topping up with formula after every feed, and after she left, I reluctantly sent the daddy out to get a pot of Aptamil.
I cried for over an hour.
Within another week, we were officially combination-feeding - alternating one boob, one bottle through the day, and just boobs at night.
And we were all SO much happier for it.
The little dude started gaining weight beautifully, my boobs started healing, the daddy stopped having to watch me cry every time I fed.

Breast is best? No, this was much, MUCH better all round.

Now, 3 months on, it's about half & half. The little dude is happy, healthy & thriving - and seems to be slowly weaning himself off the boobies, which is good,I only ever wanted to breastfeed up until proper-food-weaning, as I personally believe that's long enough.
(But that's another story!)
And for the record, my son & I have bonded fantastically despite our bumpy road, so there goes that ridiculous formula = no bond with baby theory.

The best advice I can give to expectant mummies, is go with the flow, and expect the unexpected.
Give it a go, you might be one of the lucky ones - you & your baby will take to it like ducks to water & it'll be great - but, be prepared to have to work at it, you're both learning! And, in case it doesn't go according to plan, have bottle-feeding equipment on hand as a back up plan, and DO NOT beat yourself up about using it.

Those first few weeks are far too precious to waste on a boobs vs. bottles guilt trip - and as long as your little one is full, nourished, and happy, you're doing a great job, regardless of what you're using to do it :)

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