Back in my last post (almost 6 months ago!) we were trying to introduce a nap routine and were trying a few methods that a mummy friend had had success with. Our take on it mainly involved timing the monster and putting her down once she reached an agreed length of time awake. We stayed in the room with her and let her cry whilst trying to do everything to soothe her EXCEPT picking her up. We were always visible and there was plenty of physical comfort being offered.
In theory it was brilliant, this wasn't a crying it out method as we hadn't left the room. There was one thing we didn't plan for, our daughter has had a wicked temper since she was born and she has inherited both mine and my husbands stubbornness.
There is a reason day 3 wasn't documented and why the blog came to such a grinding halt. After a huge meltdown every time we neared the bedroom, a mummy snot and tear fest break down and a point blank refusal to sleep AT ALL, we realised our tiny human will not be swayed on some things, sleeping to schedule was one.
This severely knocked my confidence and left me with a baby that was grumpy from tiredness ALL the time, all this whilst battling my own sleep deprivation hell.
So are we still facing the daily tantrums and refusal to sleep? No.
In the end I submitted to watching her for signs of tiredness and then feeding her to sleep led down on our bed. Is it a method the experts recommend? No, but it is a method a sleep deprived and at the end of her tether Mother does.
Ella went from refusing to nap to having two 90 minute naps a day. We went back to the baby led method which I personally felt more comfortable with. When she fell asleep we surrounded her with pillows to ensure she couldn't roll off the bed and made sure there was no fabric or loose items that would pose a suffocation risk.
I wouldn't have tried this with her when she was much younger and we checked on her regularly (with a baby monitor as back-up). It's also something I would advise you research and consider very carefully before trying yourself as a LOT of health care professionals frown upon it. Ideally I'd have loved to feed her to sleep and then transition to her cot, but our monster woke every single time we attempted this.
Ella is now 11 months and my husband has taken over the naps as I'm back to work. She still sleeps about 90 minutes in the morning, but is down to only 45 in the afternoon. Since she started crawling it is no-longer safe to leave her on our bed and obviously he can't boob her to sleep like me. So she goes in to her cot (rages for 5 minutes), he lays on the bed and puts her favourite music on his phone so it is barely audible. Sometimes she decides she's not tired (despite eye rubbing and ear pulling for the last 30 minutes!) and it turns in to a battle of wills between the two of them (he always wins) but most of the time she settles down within 10 minutes and falls asleep.
Do what makes you feel comfortable when it comes to sleep. As long as your baby is safe, trust your instincts and don't be swayed by studies and 'experts' that tell you your child will never learn to self settle unless you make them.
Thursday 29 December 2016
Saturday 30 July 2016
Introducing Structure - Day Two
Nighttime Waking
As I mentioned in Day One Ella wakes me on average 5 times overnight to feed back to sleep. She doesn't need the food, she just wants the comfort and no amount of back rubbing, hand holding or face stroking will cut it.As this was technically our first nighttime following the 'new' routine I was expecting chaos, but I was pleasantly surprised! Ella first woke to feed at 1.04am (this is usual on a 'good' night) and she settled straight back off to sleep on the boob. The next time she woke was at 4.08am and sadly it took 2 feeds totaling 45 minutes before I could finally go back to sleep. The next time she woke was at about 7.20am. It's not the best night we have ever had, but it was pretty darn good!
9.45am First Nap
Getting up at 7.30am is kind of a new experience for me with Ella, I can usually coax her to a few more hours (if I give enough feeds) but the fact that most days I'm still not dressed at 11am has been driving me crazy for a while. The early start meant that not only could I get myself, the dogs and Ella fed and ready at a sensible time, I also managed to catch up on a tiny bit of house-work! It was all going so well until the first nap time rolled round.At about 9.45am I took her up to our room and pulled the curtains, she was due a feed and so I fed her, she was starting to drift off after 15 minutes so I popped her off. During this winding she became wide awake and this time when I tried to settle her down the screaming started immediately, my tiny daughter seemed already wise to my games.
As before I let her whine, scream and rage for an hour (with me doing my best to soothe her without picking her up) before I figured she better have a calorie top up to replenish those lost in her diva antics. This time she only lasted 7 minutes before falling asleep, I burped and placed her back in the cot and although I got another glare from my troubles she went straight back off to sleep.
She napped for only 30 minutes and I figured this was fine.
3.15pm Second Nap
We were really late for the second nap (by an hour and 45 minutes!) but in my defence I'm flying solo at the moment and we had to go to the shops, make lunch and we've just started baby led weaning which takes forever and has to be timed between feeds and naps. There was a point after she'd fed her face with puree that she was getting drowsy in her high chair and we even reclined it in the hopes that she would fall asleep, she didn't.When I took her upstairs I had to place her in our bed as the sheets from her cot were being washed due to her rage induced vomit fest during nap 1. Ella started pulling all her charms out of the bag, cooing, 'talking' and stroking my arm. When it became apparent that this wasn't going to work the meltdown started. I'll admit I weakened and could only cope with 30 minutes of her screams, she was looking at me so heart broken that I just couldn't bear it. Ella only fed for 5 minutes before being so drowsy that I popped her off, skipped the winding and placed her on our bed (surrounded by pillows to stop her rolling) I still felt so guilty that I just couldn't leave her and instead sat on the bed with her for almost an hour.
I did manage to maneuver myself off the bed eventually and go downstairs without her waking, in total she slept for over 2 hours, she clearly needed it.
7.10pm Bedtime
In the hopes that solid food may help her sleep better we managed to get her to eat again at about 6.20pm but this sadly meant that our usual 6.30pm bath and bed was severely pushed back. Ella was in a great mood during her bath and I even managed to distract her to avoid the usual meltdown that happens when she's put in her sleepsuit and Grobag.We fed for 17 minutes before she was getting drowsy and this time burping her produced nothing. We then read a 5 minute story and yet again she was wide awake, this time however she did not settle to sleep within a few minutes and we are now 35 minutes in to protesting with whiny cries/screams and showing no sign of letting up anytime soon :(
Friday 29 July 2016
Introducing Structure at 6 Months - Day One
I can't believe my precious girl is 6 months already! It seems like Ella has been with us forever and yet at the same time her first 6 months have whizzed by.
We've started solids by way of baby led weaning and it's becoming apparent that our little madam really knows her own mind. Ella is high maintenance and a complete Jekyll and Hyde. If we are out, she is being fussed over or is in her sling she is an absolute angel. If Mummy tries to put her down or insists that she really needs to nap, my sweet angel is replaced by a raging, angry sod that isn't calmed until Mummy gives in. Yes, she will literally lay in the arms of the Mr or a Grandparent and scream until she either passes out from exhaustion or Mummy can't take it anymore and caves in by picking her up.
I have to return to work soon and so it would be cruel of me to not try and soothe these anger issues before I do.
Another Mummy friend has been through something similar with her daughter and talked me through the importance of setting and sticking to a routine.
Other than bedtime (bath, story and boob until asleep) we have let Ella set her own schedule during the day and I'm going to say her schedule sucks. She won't nap unless fed to sleep, will not tolerate being put down for more than a few minutes and wakes me on average 5 times a night demanding Mummy Dummy (boobie) to settle herself back to sleep. Ella rages unless she gets what she wants immediately and Mummy has learned it is easier to just give in. I'm trying to remind myself that sorting this now is best for her long term, but in my head all I have swilling round is the evidence that letting them find their own routine is best and the look of sadness she gives me when I try to be firm breaks my heart.
We will be starting small with waking her at a set time each day (regardless of how little sleep she's given anyone) and operating on a 2 hour awake and then nap schedule. I also need to stop feeding her to sleep as she seems to struggle to fall asleep on her own.
I'm dreading it and thought it may be best to document our first week so I can see if there is any improvement.
At about 4.45pm Ella realized that Mummy wasn't planning on budging from her spot next to the cot to pick her up, so the grumbling started. I tried to hold her hand, rub her face and back, anything to soothe her that wasn't picking her up. Ella soon realized she was being forced to nap so the grumbling turned to crying with tears. Once Ella realized this was still not having the desired effect she turned the rage factor up to 10; beetroot faced, being sick, screaming to the point it hurts your own throat to hear it and thrashing around her cot.
This went on until 5.45pm when I figured an hour of raging expends a lot of calories so a feed should be offered.
Unsurprisingly she was so shattered that the fell asleep 10 minutes in to her feed and I had to pop her off and lay her in the cot. Ella did open her eyes and glared at me in an accusing manner as I put her down, but she didn't wake up fully or meltdown all over again like she usually does, so as technically she went to sleep whilst in her cot, I'm taking this as a win.
It's now 6.20pm and Ella should really be getting ready for her bath in 10 minutes so we can start her bed routine. I now don't know whether to wake her or let her sleep through. My small feeling of victory has gone out the window, well played Miss Ella, well played.
I have no idea if it was that she was still shattered from her nap fighting meltdown or if she had noticed Mummy was being a bit firmer, but she raged through her entire bath (something she usually enjoys) and I joked to the Mr that she was definitely turning the rage up to 11. I had never seen her this angry and at one point she projectile vomited all over herself in the bath purely through rage.
At 7.15pm I had finally wrestled her into the sleepsuit and Grobag, her once clean face a mess of snot, tears and angry red splotches. Ella initially guzzled greedily during her feed, but 15 minutes in she had slowed right down and I knew she was falling asleep. I popped her off and was now faced with a dilemma; usually I had a 25% chance of transferring her to the cot still asleep and my instincts were screaming at me to do this, but I had been advised that burping her after her bed feed was vital as gas could keep her awake and see me spending my evening chasing up and down the stairs to settle her.
I started to wind her and was amazed when she instantly gave up two large burps, but still stayed asleep. Not wanting to push my luck I actually started to lower her carefully into the cot until I realized that this usual behavior of putting her into the cot asleep is what is causing the problems with her not being able to fall asleep without me.
Gently maneuvering her into a sitting position I started to read her a 5 minute story that I had downloaded free on my phone. By a page in she was wide awake, cooing and gurgling; my spirits plummeted as she was now wide awake again. Once the story was over I calmly told Miss Ella that it was time to sleep and kissed her goodnight, I knew this was going to be a long one and coolly wondered if it would take her longer to fall asleep then the nap saga earlier.
Immediately after being put in her cot Miss Ella was 'talking' to me. I simply laid my arm next to her and picked up phone. I was trying to portray an image of 'I'm here, but I'm not interacting with you'. Within a few minutes Miss Ella had wriggled into a position she obviously found comfortable and fallen asleep.
I sat there for 10 more minutes just waiting for her to wake up and start screaming. Getting her settled and asleep after her bath in under 30 minutes? No way!
Ella did not wake until we came up at 10.30pm when a combination of the dogs and the Mr loudly coughing proved too much for the poor thing to sleep through.
We always dream feed when I come up to bed as I optimistically believe it will help her sleep through for longer. I tried to pop her off before she fell asleep, but she surprised me by taking less than 20 minutes, I did wind her but she was pretty much asleep before I put her in the cot and there was no way I was going to wake her as that goes against the idea of a dream feed.
Our first day was less difficult than I expected and she fully surprised me with how easily she settled at bed time. I'm not foolish enough to believe she is going to repeat this again and part of me fears I'm going to pay for it in some way, fingers crossed she doesn't exact her revenge overnight!
We've started solids by way of baby led weaning and it's becoming apparent that our little madam really knows her own mind. Ella is high maintenance and a complete Jekyll and Hyde. If we are out, she is being fussed over or is in her sling she is an absolute angel. If Mummy tries to put her down or insists that she really needs to nap, my sweet angel is replaced by a raging, angry sod that isn't calmed until Mummy gives in. Yes, she will literally lay in the arms of the Mr or a Grandparent and scream until she either passes out from exhaustion or Mummy can't take it anymore and caves in by picking her up.
I have to return to work soon and so it would be cruel of me to not try and soothe these anger issues before I do.
Another Mummy friend has been through something similar with her daughter and talked me through the importance of setting and sticking to a routine.
Other than bedtime (bath, story and boob until asleep) we have let Ella set her own schedule during the day and I'm going to say her schedule sucks. She won't nap unless fed to sleep, will not tolerate being put down for more than a few minutes and wakes me on average 5 times a night demanding Mummy Dummy (boobie) to settle herself back to sleep. Ella rages unless she gets what she wants immediately and Mummy has learned it is easier to just give in. I'm trying to remind myself that sorting this now is best for her long term, but in my head all I have swilling round is the evidence that letting them find their own routine is best and the look of sadness she gives me when I try to be firm breaks my heart.
We will be starting small with waking her at a set time each day (regardless of how little sleep she's given anyone) and operating on a 2 hour awake and then nap schedule. I also need to stop feeding her to sleep as she seems to struggle to fall asleep on her own.
I'm dreading it and thought it may be best to document our first week so I can see if there is any improvement.
Day One
Technically we started half way through her day as I didn't chat to my Mummy friend until lunch.4.30pm Nap
We headed upstairs with a dry nappy and a full tum. I darkened the room and we then read a book. Ella was full of smiles even when I initially put her in the cot. Although she had been eye rubbing and it was about 2 hours since she had last woken up she decided to play by rolling around the cot.At about 4.45pm Ella realized that Mummy wasn't planning on budging from her spot next to the cot to pick her up, so the grumbling started. I tried to hold her hand, rub her face and back, anything to soothe her that wasn't picking her up. Ella soon realized she was being forced to nap so the grumbling turned to crying with tears. Once Ella realized this was still not having the desired effect she turned the rage factor up to 10; beetroot faced, being sick, screaming to the point it hurts your own throat to hear it and thrashing around her cot.
This went on until 5.45pm when I figured an hour of raging expends a lot of calories so a feed should be offered.
Unsurprisingly she was so shattered that the fell asleep 10 minutes in to her feed and I had to pop her off and lay her in the cot. Ella did open her eyes and glared at me in an accusing manner as I put her down, but she didn't wake up fully or meltdown all over again like she usually does, so as technically she went to sleep whilst in her cot, I'm taking this as a win.
It's now 6.20pm and Ella should really be getting ready for her bath in 10 minutes so we can start her bed routine. I now don't know whether to wake her or let her sleep through. My small feeling of victory has gone out the window, well played Miss Ella, well played.
7.00pm Bedtime
Due to Miss Ella being a pickle and fighting the nap we were 30 minutes late starting our bedtime routine (bath, sleepsuit with Grobag, story with boobie until she is asleep, carefully transfer to the cot whilst praying she doesn't wake up, if she wakes repeat with from boobie as many times as needed) so things were not off to a good start.I have no idea if it was that she was still shattered from her nap fighting meltdown or if she had noticed Mummy was being a bit firmer, but she raged through her entire bath (something she usually enjoys) and I joked to the Mr that she was definitely turning the rage up to 11. I had never seen her this angry and at one point she projectile vomited all over herself in the bath purely through rage.
At 7.15pm I had finally wrestled her into the sleepsuit and Grobag, her once clean face a mess of snot, tears and angry red splotches. Ella initially guzzled greedily during her feed, but 15 minutes in she had slowed right down and I knew she was falling asleep. I popped her off and was now faced with a dilemma; usually I had a 25% chance of transferring her to the cot still asleep and my instincts were screaming at me to do this, but I had been advised that burping her after her bed feed was vital as gas could keep her awake and see me spending my evening chasing up and down the stairs to settle her.
I started to wind her and was amazed when she instantly gave up two large burps, but still stayed asleep. Not wanting to push my luck I actually started to lower her carefully into the cot until I realized that this usual behavior of putting her into the cot asleep is what is causing the problems with her not being able to fall asleep without me.
Gently maneuvering her into a sitting position I started to read her a 5 minute story that I had downloaded free on my phone. By a page in she was wide awake, cooing and gurgling; my spirits plummeted as she was now wide awake again. Once the story was over I calmly told Miss Ella that it was time to sleep and kissed her goodnight, I knew this was going to be a long one and coolly wondered if it would take her longer to fall asleep then the nap saga earlier.
Immediately after being put in her cot Miss Ella was 'talking' to me. I simply laid my arm next to her and picked up phone. I was trying to portray an image of 'I'm here, but I'm not interacting with you'. Within a few minutes Miss Ella had wriggled into a position she obviously found comfortable and fallen asleep.
I sat there for 10 more minutes just waiting for her to wake up and start screaming. Getting her settled and asleep after her bath in under 30 minutes? No way!
Dream Feed
For the entire evening I was glued to the baby monitor just expecting her to wake up, furious that I'd somehow tricked her in to falling asleep without a meltdown. Just to keep me on my toes she decided to fall asleep on her stomach and I was fighting the desire to flip her from the installed cot death sleeping guidelines. I kept repeating that she was now more than capable of maneuvering herself if need be and that waking her after she self settled was a really stupid idea. Instead I kept checking on her (stupid as we have an angel care sensor pad fitted, but I'm neurotic!) and she didn't move from this position once.Ella did not wake until we came up at 10.30pm when a combination of the dogs and the Mr loudly coughing proved too much for the poor thing to sleep through.
We always dream feed when I come up to bed as I optimistically believe it will help her sleep through for longer. I tried to pop her off before she fell asleep, but she surprised me by taking less than 20 minutes, I did wind her but she was pretty much asleep before I put her in the cot and there was no way I was going to wake her as that goes against the idea of a dream feed.
Our first day was less difficult than I expected and she fully surprised me with how easily she settled at bed time. I'm not foolish enough to believe she is going to repeat this again and part of me fears I'm going to pay for it in some way, fingers crossed she doesn't exact her revenge overnight!
Those First Few Weeks
Although it may have been just over 3 months ago, those first two weeks still haunt me.
For the first 5 days we were stuck in hospital and I felt like I was being torn apart every night we had to say goodbye to the Mr. It wasn't helped by the fact I felt like a failure on the feeding front and that little Miss turned into a demon child as soon as the Mr left.
Yes I knew on some level that she was reacting to my anguish over being seperated from the Mr, but my poor sleep deprived brain couldn't help but imagine that little Miss resented being left alone with me.
The Mr also had a run in with one of the midwives after she decided to critique his feeding technique as being too soft and then swooped in to pick up little Miss and took her over to the new mum opposite, all the while exclaiming that little Miss clearly thought herself a princess (aka diva) and that we were pandering to her. As the Mr demanded our child back and none too politely told the midwife to back off, I wanted the ground to swallow me.
For the first 5 days we were stuck in hospital and I felt like I was being torn apart every night we had to say goodbye to the Mr. It wasn't helped by the fact I felt like a failure on the feeding front and that little Miss turned into a demon child as soon as the Mr left.
Yes I knew on some level that she was reacting to my anguish over being seperated from the Mr, but my poor sleep deprived brain couldn't help but imagine that little Miss resented being left alone with me.
The Mr also had a run in with one of the midwives after she decided to critique his feeding technique as being too soft and then swooped in to pick up little Miss and took her over to the new mum opposite, all the while exclaiming that little Miss clearly thought herself a princess (aka diva) and that we were pandering to her. As the Mr demanded our child back and none too politely told the midwife to back off, I wanted the ground to swallow me.
I felt like a failure for not defending our daughter and I was sick with worry over being stuck with a midwife overnight that my husband had just pulled up in front of the entire ward. That night was the first time I broke down post labour, quietly sobbing behind the hospital curtains and praying no one would hear me.
Once home Ellie was inconsolable. It was not unusual for her to cry unless sleeping or feeding and nothing we did could console her.
They were the darkest of days and the time that we constantly questioned whether we had made the right decision fighting so hard to become parents.
Health visitors and midwives seem to be visiting constantly during the early weeks and each visit would entail the post natal depression chat and each time I'd attach a suitablely sombre look to my face and tell them I knew the signs to look for and that I was fine, no really. They all gave me the same not quite buying it look, but none really pressed.
Admitting I wasn't coping and that there were times when I regretted the IVF felt like I was admitting to failure and that this made me a terrible mother.
My lowest ebb was when the Mr had left us to do something upstairs and she screamed at me for what felt like hours. Nothing would soothe her and my frazzled nerves were plummetting. I had to put her in her moses basket and take a step back. Just as I was trying to calm myself down a stray thought popped in to my head; this is your life now. I'll admit that I curled into a ball on the sofa and sobbed right along with her, it all just seemed so bleak.
There were also times that I am ashamed to admit I raised my voice at her. Immediately after I've always felt intense guilt at my short outburst, but this blog is supposed to be about honesty.
The midwives talk about putting baby down and leaving the room if your temper is rising and we both had to do this several times when the screaming got too much.
Now I am safely out the other side of the newborn phase, I can also look back at a lot of our time as treasured memories. It feels all doom and gloom when you're living it, but I promise it isn't.
Once we figured out that Ellie liked to be held and hated being put down, we occasionally managed to soothe her. I miss the early days of her snuggled on my chest so tiny and napping away most of the day. Her cute grumpy cat sleeping face and Mick Jagger waking pout has sadly faded, but I know the memories of these are safely locked in my heart forever.
For those Mamas currently struggling with the early weeks, I just want to tell you to hang in there. I didn't believe it when people said to me, but it does get easier. Don't be afraid to admit you need help with how you are feeling and never think you are a failure or abnormal for feeling the way you do. Talking really does help and I promise you will be surprised at how many women admit to feeling exactly the same way. If you don't have a support network of friends or family that you can confide in then reach out to your midwife or GP. Join baby groups, lots are free! Getting out of the house, enjoying some fresh air and speaking to mums experiencing the same as you really does help, even if getting to the class roughly on time feels like climbing Everest blindfolded!
Friday 15 April 2016
...Let Me Count The Ways
It's just 7 am and you're led swaddled on my chest with your soft, fine hair tickling my chin. Your sweet little snores are blending perfectly with your Papi's and the furry monsters who are at the foot of our bed. You've slept since 11 PM and I had to wake you at 6.10 AM so we could start on the first booby feed of the day. You are 8 weeks and 5 days old, where has the time gone? It feels like you've been part of our life forever, but at the same time as if our time is whizzing by.
Sometimes when I look at you my heart feels like it is swelling to the point of bursting. I still can't quite believe you are here and that you are so perfect.
I feel like I'm already missing out on so much with you.
I'm conscious that mummy is glued to her phone during feeding times and each time I've glanced down and caught you gazing at me, it's broken my heart to realize I've missed some vital bonding moment in favor of my stupid phone.
I feel guilty for rushing your feeds so I can have a few more minutes of freedom before you want to plug back in again. That sometimes I will tell myself that you can't possibly he hungry again so soon and that just one more minute to finish my whatever won't hurt.
How many times have I already willingly handed you over so that Mummy can rush to the work laptop and respond to a business email or return a call or finish a design.
Mummy feels guilty for having to work whilst you are still so tiny, but being the only earner and caring for you all also means that sadly mummy has no choice.
In light of all the things I feel I may miss, I vow to try and remember and cherish all the tiny things you do that make my heart soar just that little bit higher.
I love the way when you've just been woken from a nap you draw your legs up, raise your arms, arch your back, turn your head to the side and do the cutest Mick Jagger pout! I am determined to get a video of this so I can still get my daily fix when you no longer sleep in my arms.
I love your serious expression that constantly morphs into grumpy cat while you are sleeping and looks identical to the face of Big Nanny the last time I saw her, a bitter sweet experience every time it happens.
I love when you have been unsettled and wailing for everyone else and when I take you and try to soothe you, you finally settle.
I love the trembling lower lip that seems to come on when you are sad, but we just can't seem to figure out why.
Your new "girly" scream is adorable and I think the fact that Papi hates it is hilarious. I call it your not getting your own way scream as it's the one you use when you are feeling whiny for no particular reason.
You have been able to use real tears since you were two days old and although initially it would pull at my heart strings, it now makes me chuckle that you have this weapon in your arsenal. It works on most family members and they will put that extra effort into trying to console you when those real tears make an appearance.
I love how you are so petite and feminine and yet you burp, parp and poop like a trooper! Seriously, your poor Papi has been blamed countless times for your loud noises.
I love how you are seemingly addicted to the television. It doesn't matter where we are, or where you are placed in a room, that tiny head of yours will constantly swivel around to seek out the television. Just like Mummy.
We are cherishing every night that you give us a whole night sleep (surely almost a month of them now!). We know not to get complacent or to take them for granted, but I love the fact that you're addicted to sleep (at night anyway) as much as Mummy.
I cannot contain my love when I see a feature or mannerism that so perfectly mirrors my own, it is breath taking.
The fact that you are so tiny (most of your clothing is still premature or tiny baby size!), but your temper and strength is off the scale. You've had amazing head support and neck strength from your very first day and that temper goes from chilled angel to screaming demon in nanoseconds. Though she be but little, she is fierce.
How do I love thee? I actually couldn't count the ways. I hope I never forget a single precious moment that we spend together and that the times we are apart or that Mummy seems distracted by work is over-shadowed by the memories we make and the love I shower on you.
Sometimes when I look at you my heart feels like it is swelling to the point of bursting. I still can't quite believe you are here and that you are so perfect.
I feel like I'm already missing out on so much with you.
I'm conscious that mummy is glued to her phone during feeding times and each time I've glanced down and caught you gazing at me, it's broken my heart to realize I've missed some vital bonding moment in favor of my stupid phone.
I feel guilty for rushing your feeds so I can have a few more minutes of freedom before you want to plug back in again. That sometimes I will tell myself that you can't possibly he hungry again so soon and that just one more minute to finish my whatever won't hurt.
How many times have I already willingly handed you over so that Mummy can rush to the work laptop and respond to a business email or return a call or finish a design.
Mummy feels guilty for having to work whilst you are still so tiny, but being the only earner and caring for you all also means that sadly mummy has no choice.
In light of all the things I feel I may miss, I vow to try and remember and cherish all the tiny things you do that make my heart soar just that little bit higher.
I love the way when you've just been woken from a nap you draw your legs up, raise your arms, arch your back, turn your head to the side and do the cutest Mick Jagger pout! I am determined to get a video of this so I can still get my daily fix when you no longer sleep in my arms.
I love your serious expression that constantly morphs into grumpy cat while you are sleeping and looks identical to the face of Big Nanny the last time I saw her, a bitter sweet experience every time it happens.
I love when you have been unsettled and wailing for everyone else and when I take you and try to soothe you, you finally settle.
I love the trembling lower lip that seems to come on when you are sad, but we just can't seem to figure out why.
Your new "girly" scream is adorable and I think the fact that Papi hates it is hilarious. I call it your not getting your own way scream as it's the one you use when you are feeling whiny for no particular reason.
You have been able to use real tears since you were two days old and although initially it would pull at my heart strings, it now makes me chuckle that you have this weapon in your arsenal. It works on most family members and they will put that extra effort into trying to console you when those real tears make an appearance.
I love how you are so petite and feminine and yet you burp, parp and poop like a trooper! Seriously, your poor Papi has been blamed countless times for your loud noises.
I love how you are seemingly addicted to the television. It doesn't matter where we are, or where you are placed in a room, that tiny head of yours will constantly swivel around to seek out the television. Just like Mummy.
We are cherishing every night that you give us a whole night sleep (surely almost a month of them now!). We know not to get complacent or to take them for granted, but I love the fact that you're addicted to sleep (at night anyway) as much as Mummy.
I cannot contain my love when I see a feature or mannerism that so perfectly mirrors my own, it is breath taking.
The fact that you are so tiny (most of your clothing is still premature or tiny baby size!), but your temper and strength is off the scale. You've had amazing head support and neck strength from your very first day and that temper goes from chilled angel to screaming demon in nanoseconds. Though she be but little, she is fierce.
How do I love thee? I actually couldn't count the ways. I hope I never forget a single precious moment that we spend together and that the times we are apart or that Mummy seems distracted by work is over-shadowed by the memories we make and the love I shower on you.
The Pregnancy
I want to keep this blog focused on the arrival of our little girl, but figured that sometimes a bit of background helps to set the scene.
As mentioned in the about post, we had struggled for just shy of 6 years to conceive. We suffered our first miscarriage in October 2010 and our second in May 2012. In this time the Mr's health had taken a definite turn for the worst and we had the added pressure of trying to have a child whilst he could still manage to play and care for them.
After lots of testing and years of intense trying, we finally got a break when the NHS changed their criteria for IVF and we were offered a course of treatment at Dorchester hospital. The IVF itself wasn't too bad, a few side effects, but we figured it was worth it if it made our dream come true!
A few days after the egg transfer I took a turn for the worst. Initially I thought it was just the usual side effects intensifying, but then I couldn't wee and I figured something wasn't right. A call to the hospital with this new worrying symptom saw me being admitted for something called Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome (OHSS). It was explained that my blood was being stripped of fluid and that the fluid was being dumped in my abdomen.
I was in hospital for just shy of a week and boy was I uncomfortable! My stomach was distended, I felt like I couldn't breathe and no position seemed comfortable. After 5 days of a combination of IV fluids and albumin, I finally started to feel better and was discharged.
Less than 24 hours after leaving the hospital my abdomen starter to distend, but this time at a much faster pace. Every breath felt like fire and yet again my ability to wee had gone. I thought I felt like crap before, but this was terrifying.
After being advised to return to the hospital for re-admittance ASAP, I started to worry. After an agonizing 45 minute drive to the hospital (I was lucky enough to get my treatment the next county over for reasons unknown) I was terrified. I had puffed up like the stay puft marshmallow man (seriously, I was hulking out of my clothes) and any ability to bend at the waist had been lost hours before.
An x ray and blood test confirmed I had partially collapsed lung due to the fluid and my kidneys had shut down. Further testing the next day revealed damage to my liver, fluid on my heart and just shy of two stone in weight of fluid accumulation all over my body. I started struggling to breathe and was put on oxygen and sedated to try and rest. I was upgraded to a high dependency ward and there was talk about sending me to intensive care.
My general condition was pretty bad, but there was good news. My OHSS was previously in remission, but it had now spiked to severe. The fertility team told me that this generally only happens when the pregnancy hormone hCG comes into contact with the OHSS. It was early days bit they were confident I was pregnant.
Two weeks and a stomach drain later, my pregnancy was confirmed! A stone and a half of fluid had either been peed out or drained from my rather gross stomach tap. I was ready for home! We were elated but also facing the reality that another course of IVF was out of the question for us. I would almost certainly contract the most severe case of OHSS again, but this time there was a chance I wouldn't pull through.
I was wildly optimistic about this pregnancy though. I'd known from the beginning of the second one that we wouldn't make it, but this one felt different. To me it felt like the brush with death and agony of the OHSS was payment in advance for our baby.
When we had our scan at almost 8 weeks I was moved to tears at the heartbeat on the screen. Both of our previous pregnancies had been lost at the same time, 6+2 weeks. To have made it to almost 8 and to finally see a heartbeat cemented in my mind that this one was for keeps.
Our next drama came at the 12 weeks combined scan where tests revealed the baby was at a high risk for Edward's and Patau's Syndrome (T18 and T13). The news was delivered over the telephone by a somewhat cold midwife who was telling us this was a death sentence for our baby and pushing us towards an amniocentesis. When I'd made it quite clear an amnio was out of the question she finally gave us advice on a new private test called Harmony where a sample of my blood was taken and the baby's DNA removed and tested. It was none invasive to the baby and could be the answer to our prayers.
So off we went to Harley Street in London (yes it cost a pretty penny) and I had my blood test and a 45 minute ultrasound. The ultrasound was carried out by a user that was experienced in fetal abnormalities and we came away feeling reassured but anxious for the results. We were told 5 days later that the test had failed and we had to travel back to London for another sample. We had spoken to our midwife who dismissed the ultrasound findings and again mentioned the dreaded amniocentesis. During our second visit we saw a different ultrasound technician who was surprised we had come back as the first ultrasound results were so good. We explained that our midwife had disregarded the scan and that we were understandably worried. He took pity on us and re-confirmed all the measurements from the first scan and then told us the blessed news that in his experience there was always a physical marker that was picked up at the scan and our baby was perfect. When the second test came back as failed again (less than 3% of the population cannot have their DNA separated and I was one of the lucky ones!) we decided to draw a line under it and focus on the second ultrasound technicians words.
At the 20 week scan the baby was measuring small and they confirmed there was weakness in the placenta. From that point on we had to have regular growth scans and answer to the fact we had declined an amniocentesis at every appointment. At 32 weeks I was put on early maternity leave as the baby was hovering over the threshold for intervention. Throughout it all our little fighter was kicking and elbowing me so much and so frequently we knew she'd be fine.
Baby Ellie was born naturally on Saturday 23rd January 2016, she came out screaming and has continued in that fashion ever since. She is perfect (but very angry) and we count our lucky stars almost hourly, but my goodness she is hard work.
As mentioned in the about post, we had struggled for just shy of 6 years to conceive. We suffered our first miscarriage in October 2010 and our second in May 2012. In this time the Mr's health had taken a definite turn for the worst and we had the added pressure of trying to have a child whilst he could still manage to play and care for them.
After lots of testing and years of intense trying, we finally got a break when the NHS changed their criteria for IVF and we were offered a course of treatment at Dorchester hospital. The IVF itself wasn't too bad, a few side effects, but we figured it was worth it if it made our dream come true!
A few days after the egg transfer I took a turn for the worst. Initially I thought it was just the usual side effects intensifying, but then I couldn't wee and I figured something wasn't right. A call to the hospital with this new worrying symptom saw me being admitted for something called Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome (OHSS). It was explained that my blood was being stripped of fluid and that the fluid was being dumped in my abdomen.
I was in hospital for just shy of a week and boy was I uncomfortable! My stomach was distended, I felt like I couldn't breathe and no position seemed comfortable. After 5 days of a combination of IV fluids and albumin, I finally started to feel better and was discharged.
Less than 24 hours after leaving the hospital my abdomen starter to distend, but this time at a much faster pace. Every breath felt like fire and yet again my ability to wee had gone. I thought I felt like crap before, but this was terrifying.
After being advised to return to the hospital for re-admittance ASAP, I started to worry. After an agonizing 45 minute drive to the hospital (I was lucky enough to get my treatment the next county over for reasons unknown) I was terrified. I had puffed up like the stay puft marshmallow man (seriously, I was hulking out of my clothes) and any ability to bend at the waist had been lost hours before.
An x ray and blood test confirmed I had partially collapsed lung due to the fluid and my kidneys had shut down. Further testing the next day revealed damage to my liver, fluid on my heart and just shy of two stone in weight of fluid accumulation all over my body. I started struggling to breathe and was put on oxygen and sedated to try and rest. I was upgraded to a high dependency ward and there was talk about sending me to intensive care.
My general condition was pretty bad, but there was good news. My OHSS was previously in remission, but it had now spiked to severe. The fertility team told me that this generally only happens when the pregnancy hormone hCG comes into contact with the OHSS. It was early days bit they were confident I was pregnant.
Two weeks and a stomach drain later, my pregnancy was confirmed! A stone and a half of fluid had either been peed out or drained from my rather gross stomach tap. I was ready for home! We were elated but also facing the reality that another course of IVF was out of the question for us. I would almost certainly contract the most severe case of OHSS again, but this time there was a chance I wouldn't pull through.
I was wildly optimistic about this pregnancy though. I'd known from the beginning of the second one that we wouldn't make it, but this one felt different. To me it felt like the brush with death and agony of the OHSS was payment in advance for our baby.
When we had our scan at almost 8 weeks I was moved to tears at the heartbeat on the screen. Both of our previous pregnancies had been lost at the same time, 6+2 weeks. To have made it to almost 8 and to finally see a heartbeat cemented in my mind that this one was for keeps.
Our next drama came at the 12 weeks combined scan where tests revealed the baby was at a high risk for Edward's and Patau's Syndrome (T18 and T13). The news was delivered over the telephone by a somewhat cold midwife who was telling us this was a death sentence for our baby and pushing us towards an amniocentesis. When I'd made it quite clear an amnio was out of the question she finally gave us advice on a new private test called Harmony where a sample of my blood was taken and the baby's DNA removed and tested. It was none invasive to the baby and could be the answer to our prayers.
So off we went to Harley Street in London (yes it cost a pretty penny) and I had my blood test and a 45 minute ultrasound. The ultrasound was carried out by a user that was experienced in fetal abnormalities and we came away feeling reassured but anxious for the results. We were told 5 days later that the test had failed and we had to travel back to London for another sample. We had spoken to our midwife who dismissed the ultrasound findings and again mentioned the dreaded amniocentesis. During our second visit we saw a different ultrasound technician who was surprised we had come back as the first ultrasound results were so good. We explained that our midwife had disregarded the scan and that we were understandably worried. He took pity on us and re-confirmed all the measurements from the first scan and then told us the blessed news that in his experience there was always a physical marker that was picked up at the scan and our baby was perfect. When the second test came back as failed again (less than 3% of the population cannot have their DNA separated and I was one of the lucky ones!) we decided to draw a line under it and focus on the second ultrasound technicians words.
At the 20 week scan the baby was measuring small and they confirmed there was weakness in the placenta. From that point on we had to have regular growth scans and answer to the fact we had declined an amniocentesis at every appointment. At 32 weeks I was put on early maternity leave as the baby was hovering over the threshold for intervention. Throughout it all our little fighter was kicking and elbowing me so much and so frequently we knew she'd be fine.
Baby Ellie was born naturally on Saturday 23rd January 2016, she came out screaming and has continued in that fashion ever since. She is perfect (but very angry) and we count our lucky stars almost hourly, but my goodness she is hard work.
Saturday 5 March 2016
About
If you'd been trying to conceive for almost 6 years, suffered two miscarriages, almost died from a rare IVF side effect, but finally got your much wanted baby, surely you would love and cherish every single second of motherhood? I had definitely expected to and so when faced with feelings of depression, anxiety and a longing for my old life, I was not only surprised, but riddled with guilt.
I wanted to write an unedited account of just what it is really like to raise a 'rainbow' child. To admit that it isn't all sunshine and lollipops and that although we are thankful, (my god are we thankful!) sometimes being a parent is not quite the dream I'd spent 6 long, grueling years imagining.
This is my account from day one (well technically the blog was started on day 42). A blog that will not pander to the belief that after struggling for so long to get this child, any emotion other than pure joy should be met with extra lashings of guilt. This will be a true account of the good, the bad and the ugly. This is our journey (can those last two sentences be any more cliché?).
I wanted to write an unedited account of just what it is really like to raise a 'rainbow' child. To admit that it isn't all sunshine and lollipops and that although we are thankful, (my god are we thankful!) sometimes being a parent is not quite the dream I'd spent 6 long, grueling years imagining.
This is my account from day one (well technically the blog was started on day 42). A blog that will not pander to the belief that after struggling for so long to get this child, any emotion other than pure joy should be met with extra lashings of guilt. This will be a true account of the good, the bad and the ugly. This is our journey (can those last two sentences be any more cliché?).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)