Anyone for Seconds?

The past few months have flown by in a flurry of (more than usual) activity. In pursuit of sun and loved ones, we flew halfway across the world with our boisterous toddler barely on our laps. Visiting Perth for Christmas was a dream. A very hot one, but a beautiful dream nonetheless. Fast fading now amidst the cold, grey winter that we returned to in Blighty.

We landed back at Heathrow, heart, mind and body holding together and just as well for we have barely stopped since. Work, study, life have all crowded in as we readjusted to being a unit of three without the additional help or company of loving grandparents and old friends.

In this period many people I knew gave birth. All to their second child. As I heard of each new arrival into this world, I smiled and then asked myself:

Would I?

And the answer each time has been:

No.

It is a question I get asked a lot. It seems to be human nature to jump ahead of ourselves rather than relish what is there. Our few rites of passage (marriage, birth, death) are hurried. Years ago when I announced my engagement, the question on everyone's lips was:

When is the wedding?

After the wedding had barely been done and dusted, it was:

House?
Kids?

And when the kid did come along, my own mother asked me:

Do you think you'll have another?

Given that the stitches were barely out and I was still waking like a Rhinestone Cowboy, I thought the answer would have been obvious.

However it has been nearly two years now since Dragon entered the world. In that time I have considered the sibling question extensively.  I have said to the Husband:

We are putting all our eggs into one basket. It's very risky.

And it is. When you experience the love you have for your child, the thought of anything happening to that child is inconceivable. Better to have a spare. The same being if anything were to happen to you or your partner. Then as siblings they could support one another. That is, if they don't hate each other as some siblings do.

I wonder when people will stop asking that question? When it is evident that I am post menopausal? When I look post menopausal even if I'm not?

And I wonder when I am asked that question, when will I stop asking myself:

Will I?

The Baby Antidote

I have been told by non parent friends that I am a Baby Antidote.

People who don't want to have kids and want their decision validated are sent my way. People who do are ushered in the other direction. I haven't done any special training to warrant this title except speak about my first year of parenthood as it really was. A beautiful and unique Hell which I loved and railed against in equal measure.

My version is not dissimilar to this one here. We modern women who venture forth into parenthood for the first in our mid to late thirties. We who have lived lives of choice and autonomy. We are so unprepared.

I caught up with a friend on the weekend. She is due to give birth any day now and had lots of questions about baby stuff. Birth stuff. Pain stuff. And I, well I muted myself to an undecipherable level.

I'm scared mostly about tearing and bleeding afterwards, she confessed.

Hahahahahaha, I wanted to laugh hysterically, Are you serious? Is that ALL you're most worried about? but what came out of my mouth was: Oh don't worry about that. You'll be absorbed by the baby that's just come out of you. You won't even notice.

After our catchup I mentally kicked myself. I had just done to her others had done to me when I was pregnant. Smoothed the edges of shocking new experience that is parenthood for the first time. But what else can you do?

My powers are on the wane.

But What Do You Do All Day?

When I was childless, it mystified me as to why people with kids always said they never had any time or energy.

What's keeping them so busy?  I wondered.

Sure I'd heard about the sleep deprivation that newborns could cause but that was a just a phase right? What did these parents do that used up all their time and energy? After all there is 24 hours in a day.  I decided they must be exaggerating.

Well feel free to slap me.

Because they were NOT exaggerating.  At all.

After Dragon had been in my life for a few months,  non-parent friends asked me things like:

Have you been following that story in the papers?
Have you read any good books lately?
Have you been to any good shows recently?

Oh how I laughed. But I shouldn't have because I was exactly none the wiser myself before Dragon.

So where does all my time and energy go as I sure as hell don't have much of either? I decided to take an inventory. Just a random day in the life of a mum of a nine month old.**

 Here goes:

5.00: Dragon wakes and cries. I ignore her.
5.15: Still crying. I kick Husband out of bed to go soothe her
5.30: Dragon falls back asleep. So does Husband. I lie awake wishing I could.
6.05: Dragon wakes again. Cries
6.15: Breastfeed Dragon
6.45: Sit with Dragon in steamy bathroom and do her physio (for a mucus issue - long story).
7.05: Dress Dragon and change nappy.
7.30: Plonk Dragon in front of TV. I get changed, make beds, tidy Dragon's room and get her and my breakfast ready
8.00: Feed Dragon. Feed myself.
9.00: Play or Skype Family/Friends
9.20: Dragon nappy change and nap
9.40: Clean breakfast mess, fold and put away laundry. Put in new load of washing. Tidy house. Cook food for Dragon for following day. Answer emails. Make phone calls. Do online errands.
11.00: Dragon wakes. Check nappy. Give snack. Play if staying in or head out to meet friends or for some baby activities (paying exorbitant amounts of money for 30 minutes of singing and clapping, baby swimming, ie holding them in water for 30 mins etc)
11:45 Hang out new load of laundry if home. Get Dragon and my lunch ready
12.00: Feed Dragon lunch. Feed myself.
13.00: Clean lunch mess if at home
14.00: Prepare bottle and feed Dragon
14.30: Dragon nappy change and nap
14.45: Time to MYSELF!
16:00: Dragon wakes. Give snack. Play or go out. Meet up with mum and baby group. Cook or shop
16:30: Do second bathroom physio session with Dragon.
17:15: Get Dragon dinner ready
17:30: Feed Dragon dinner
18:30: Bathe Dragon and get her ready for bed
19:00: Breastfeed Dragon
19:20: Clean up Dragon dinner mess and kitchen
20.00: Eat dinner with Husband
20:30: Get Dragon food sorted for next day. Pack any bags needed for next day. Shower
21:00: Collapse. Talk to Husband. About Dragon
23:00: Breastfeed Dragon
00:00: Sleep
03.00: Dragon cries. Husband and I pray to the Baby Goddess. Please, Please, go back to sleep.

And sometimes, she does.

It'll be just as busy when she is bigger*

Not every day is as above. There are days where we are out and about from morn to night. Days where we have visitors. Days where surprises happen. Days where I get to go out and do whatever I want. Days where I go to uni and kickstart my brain.  But the one constant throughout is that Dragon needs a LOT of care; day in , day out

And for now, I wouldn't have it any other way.

*Image courtesy of Fotolia UK

**To give him his full credit, the Husband is also the primary carer for Dragon. He looks after her most weekends and does her morning routine twice a week on weekdays too. And cooks and cleans and all of it.  And did 80% of the night feeds when she was a newborn. And gets up and soothes her when she wakes in the middle of the night. He is a Good Egg.

A New Year Dawns...

Wow. What a crazy year 2011 was.

I pushed a human being out of my nether regions. That human being now can sit, eat and give me cheek.

What will 2012 bring. This time next year, what will my little world look like?

The very first blog entry I wrote here in 2008 was about whether or not children keep you young. I had heard this saying before but never understood it. To me, all parents looked permanently exhausted, not youthful at all.

Now that I have joined the ranks of exhausted caregivers, I finally understand what it means.

Having a young kid takes a lot. It takes all your time, energy, patience, sanity. But what you get in return is immeasurable.

Hope springs eternal in human breast wrote Alexander Pope.

It's true. In the dark hours of another sleepless night, your baby looks at you or holds onto you in a certain way and all exhaustion is forgotten and you are renewed.

It Gets Easier? Said Who?

One of the things that I am told constantly during my first year of parenthood is that it will get easier.

What does this mean exactly? Will I get to go on that tropical holiday soon and drink margaritas in the sun?  Will Dragon start making me breakfast in bed? Will the gamut of kids stuff clogging our small flat evaporate to be replaced by tasteful decor?

Nada.

I think people aka other parents, tell you it gets easier because that is the thing to say. They are not going to say:

Actually it doesn't get easier. It just changes but there will always be something you are worried about.

You lug this around all day and tell me its easy

A friend once said to me that the early years of child rearing is physically exhausting. Later on when they are older, it becomes emotionally exhausting. She said that she found the latter much harder.

Hooray for her honesty.

Because I haven't found that it gets easier. It changes. Your expectations change. You get used to the physical drudgery and the toll it takes. You shift ever so gradually into parenthood. You begin to get a glimmer of the long haul.

One of the reasons I held off having a baby until my late 30's was that I didn't want to be constantly worried. Nor lose my solitude, both inside my head and within my life.

I'm so glad I waited for life is not easy with Dragon. It is constantly challenging.

But I'm up to the challenge.

Eight Months On...

Technically that's not true. Dragon is now closer to nine months than eight.

Nine months. That's how long she gestated for inside of me. And now she's been out in the world for about the same time.

Slow down kid. What's your hurry? I want to say to her. I know she'll be off like a bullet once she tastes a smidgen of independence.

Amongst my new mum friends, there is heightened anxiety regarding milestones and development. Are they  eating? Crawling? Sleeping? Walking? Later on I imagine it will be other things like whether they know their ABCs or if they can swim yet?

Part of my job as a parent is to facilitate her development in the best way I can. But personally, I think there is too much emphasis on development and getting further along.

She's a kid. Let her have a childhood.

A friend of mine asked me recently what dreams and hopes I have for Dragon. I said I had none. Apart from her happiness and health that is.

After all, she's not here to live out my dreams and hopes.

I'm here to help her live out hers.

I hope she has many.

Turn the Other Cheek

One of the common myths about becoming a parent is that you ditch all your non -parent friends. That you become so obsessed with all things baby that you:

a) become a total baby bore
b) become a bit "us" and "them" in regards to people who don't have kids
c) secretly feel that people who don't have kids haven't glimpsed the meaning of life, blah, blah, blah

There is truth to all of the above. You do become obsessed. You have to in order to embrace the tsunami of a life change that is happening to you. As part and parcel of this obsession, you do become a baby bore for awhile. Therefore you do separate parent friends and non parent friends as you know who you can talk to about baby for more than five minutes and who not to. And as for the meaning of life, well its true that kids completely change your life forever. But it's your life. Not your friends.

Since birth, I have made a conscious effort not to become a baby bore in the presence of my non parent friends. After all, they have rich and varied lives which interest me more than discussing how many nappies I changed that day. I remember how much I used to hate it when I was not a parent and had to endure conversations about kids and nothing else.

What I did not expect though was for some non parent friends to ditch me. Yes! They turned the other cheek.

Did you hear? She had a baby. Another one bites the dust

After I gave birth to Dragon, some friends just disappeared from my life. They made all the right noises about coming to see me and the baby. But they never came. She's seven months old now. They ain't coming.

I wonder what I could have done to warrant this. Is having a baby so bad? It's not infectious.

It makes me wonder what our friendship was really about.

Turns out it was about them.

Paradoxes of Parenting

I have ten minutes to write this. This is what my life has become. Short bursts of moments where I can fit in anything other than Looking After Baby. Therefore I write in short sentences.

I was thinking yesterday what a contrary experience parenting has been so far. Riddled with cliches yet everything a new discovery.  I share these in short sentences;

You sleep less than ever before in your life yet have to do the most exhausting, non-stop work ever

Some days you wish your child to disappear but are filled with the most bone-chilling dread at the thought of it

Your brain is not engaged in the way it was prior to birth yet you are at your most intuitive

They take up your whole life and in doing so, your life changes

You long for your baby to stop crying and sleep but creep in to watch them breathe when they do

You collapse exhausted at the end of the day, relieved that the baby is asleep and you can have some time to yourself. An hour later, you start looking at photos of him/her on your phone

You miss them even though they are with you

Your relationship with your partner becomes tested to its very core and in being so, becomes stronger

You long to leave, to escape the four walls of parenting but on the days you have a baby free pass, you think about baby and hurry home.

My ten minutes are up. I'm back on duty.

The Trip of a Lifetime

Our five week stay in Australia is drawing to a close. I mistakenly thought that time away with family and friends would mean I would feel more rested but alas, I feel more tired than when I first arrived. Oh well. This is the first big trip we've done with Dragon and I've learnt many things about travelling with a young baby. Some of these include:

Despite all the advice you get or tips you read up on, 50% of how your journey will go depends on your baby's personality and the unknown factors you encounter along the trip

For the first time, you will be grateful for other young babies seated near you on a flight. It takes the pressure off you and your crying child.

That said, do not worry if your baby cries. See it as a good thing. They are clearing their airways. That means their ears won't hurt as much.

Your baby's routine/schedule/whatever will completely change when you are away. Freak out if you want for a day or two and then let it go. For us this meant that Dragon stopped sleeping through. Yes this sucked. Oh well.

Travelling and being on holidays with a baby is extremely tiring. But it's worth it.

If you have a predisposition towards being OCD about hygiene or cleanliness re your baby, you might also have to let this go slightly, depending on where you are staying, what you are doing and who you are with. Let your baby get a bit dirty and germy. It won't kill them and they need it to build their immunity.

Learn to say No to friends and family who want to see your baby as many times as possible. This is difficult as you want this too. But in order not to get run down, you must protect your own health and energy, and subsequently, that of your babys'.

Holidays with babies are not holidays. They are simply a change of the environment under which you continue to care for your child.

Everyone should travel with their babies if they have the opportunity. It enhances the whole early baby experience. And it makes you feel like a person, not just a parent. And it is a great lesson in flexibility.

All the new mothers I have met in the last six months seem to have taken the above to heart. India, Hungary, France, Australia, Slovenia, Germany, Amsterdam are some of the places that Dragon's baby friends have visited. It's a great privilege and luxury to be able to show your kid a different part of the world before they have teeth or can walk.

Next up, my favourite city of all. New York, New York.

Generation Google

Recently Dragon entered yet another phase of development with new and unexplained behaviours which left me drained and puzzled. So I did what my generation does. I hit the internet.

The more I read, the more confused I got. It seems that Dragon could be overstimulated; eating too frequently;  not eating enough; teething; going through a growth spurt; suffering from reflux or wind; have trust issues as I let her cry herself to sleep; on the wrong schedule for her age; ready to wean; have allergies; needing more activity time; needing less activity time; missing her sleep window; a psychopath or all of the above.

Dear Google - Where Did These Children Come From?*

My friend Suki who is also a new mum told me that a midwife once said to her:


Your generation of  women want to schedule your babies like you schedule your lives.

And its true. We want to have it all figured out. But you can't do that with babies. So there is a big industry out there making money from this insecurity. The Schedulers and the Whisperers.

Don't get me wrong. I think its a good thing that there is information out there. For I don't live in a society where I am surrounded by a village of experienced women who will guide and show me how to mother on a day-to-day basis. I have to get an inkling somehow.

But the best way I've found is through word of mouth with other mothers. And your own instinct.

Something that comes free and doesn't take hours of Googling to find online.

*Photo courtesy of http://melissacooley.com/2011/06/what-work-life-balance/

What Price A Mothers Love?

I'll be frank. Prior to having a child, I could never understand the proliferation of toys that would litter the home of every parent I knew. Their homes seem overrun by an army of stuffed animals and brightly coloured plastic things that hurt your bare feet when you stepped on them.

At some point in my pregnancy, I said to the Husband:

I am not going to buy our baby lots of toys. She doesn't need them. It's a total con.

Although this was my stance, it was not that of my friends and family. Before she was even born, Dragon had toys and other gifts generously lavished upon her; so much so that it scared me. I felt like I was drowning in baby stuff.

As it turned out, I was right. When Dragon was born she did not need the mountain of toys that waited for her or the four drawers of clothes accumulated. All she needed was milk, sleep, a wash every now and again and lots of love and attention.

Easy right?

Not so. For when Dragon was born, so was a mother. I surveyed all the toys we had been given by our generous friends and decided that I wanted MORE.

My name is Lavendar and I am a Fisher Price addict.

What happened?

On the advice of my friend Yvette and my physio (long story), I purchased Dragon the Fisher Price Rainforest musical mobile. So she could have something to look at when her nappy was being changed instead of a white ceiling.

This was the beginning of the end

She absolutely loved it, laughing and kicking her legs whenever she saw it. It's saved my sanity many times over and should be displayed in a museum somewhere.

But it was a slippery slope.

A few weeks after the introduction of this marvellous mobile in our lives, we visited a friend who had the Fisher Price Rainforest musical playmat. The minute Dragon lay down on it, she started laughing, kicking her legs, squealing.

A pattern was emerging.

We must get it for her,  my (own) mother said. See how happy it makes her.

I looked at my baby who was so happy on the playmat. I looked at her cheerful gurgling face and chubby legs kicking away as the happy smiling stuffed animals and flashing lights did their dance of addiction.

I knew then that I would fill my house with toys just to see her happy. I would bankrupt myself and the Husband in order to scratch this itch.

The mat was delivered two days later. And many other things since then.

What price a mothers love?

Ask Fisher Price.

Motherhood: It's Not all Apples.

When I was six months pregnant, I registered myself for an NCT Early Days postnatal course. Mistakenly thinking it was a course about childcare, I who had only changed a nappy once in my life pre Dragon, thought I would need all the help I could get.

Turns out I should've read the fine print. Early Days is actually a course for the mother. I quote my course leader:

Post birth, all the attention is on the baby. How is the baby? What should I do with the baby? Well what about the mother? She's going through a lot too. But no-one really asks about her. This course is for the mother. A place where she can discuss and examine how motherhood is impacting upon her.  After all, when a baby is born, so is a mother.

Great!  I thought. I'm in the right place.

I looked at all the faces around me and wondered what their stories were.

It turns out that most of their stories were the same. Shiny, happy love stories. Blissed up with baby stories. My life is complete stories.

It really pissed me off.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: The Veneer of Motherhood.

Is this what a good mother does? Dress identically to her children? Freaky.

Of course we all love our babies. Otherwise we would have killed them all by now for the torture of those early days/weeks/months. Let me tell you, the ONLY thing that keeps a baby alive when it allows you no sleep,  tears the skin off your nipple with her mouth, screams for hours at a time, ad infinitium (insert your trauma here), the only thing that keeps that baby alive is LOVE.

So it's a given that we love our babies.Would dive into a burning lake filled with vomit for them. Would throw ourselves in front of a stampede of mating brumbies for them (insert corny cliche here) 

But ladies, until that time comes when we must face the brumbies, let's do ourselves a favour and tell it like it is. I don't care how you put it. Changing twenty nappies a day is not blissful. Say it aloud. No-one is going to cart you off to the looney bin. Social services isn't going to come knocking. You are not a bad mother.

You are normal.

Going through a very normal, albeit, brutal rite-of-passage towards becoming a parent. The very core of your identity is shape shifting and that's gotta hurt at times.


But don't tell me its all fairy floss and rainbows. Just tell the truth.

Breast is Best? Give it a Rest.

Like any other human being, I have faced many challenges in my life. Death of loved ones, financial concerns, health glitches and the end of favourite television sitcoms. When I became pregnant, I thought giving birth would be one of these challenges.

How wrong was I.

Not that birth was a walk in the park. It hurt like hell. I once read that it felt like being set on fire, torn in half, then being cut up in bits and chucked into a pool of piranhas. I've not had any first hand experience of the above but it sounds fairly accurate.

No, my Waterloo moment came when I started to breastfeed. Before stitching my nether regions, the midwife clamped Dragon onto my nipple whereupon she unleashed her Hooverish industrial strength suck. Twenty minutes later, I asked:

Erm, is it supposed to hurt?

Yes at first. But it will get better in a few minutes , was the reply. 

One week later, I was still waiting for better to happen. I'd not slept since labour, cried constantly and dreaded feeding Dragon for it had come to equal agony for me. As a result I did not enjoy being with Dragon in that week as I 'd come to associate her with pain and trauma. It was horrible.

What's wrong with me?  I worried constantly. Why don't I feel good about my baby?  Why isn't it working? Is it supposed to hurt this much? Am I going to get post natal depression at this rate?

The parade of midwives that visited me post-natally all had different faces but the same message:

Persevere. Breast is best.

A few days later I hit the wall. It was either me or the baby. Husband and I took matters into our own hands and hired a lactation consultant. It was friggin expensive but when I called her, she was the first health professional who listened to me. Actually no. She was the first one who actually heard what I was saying.


I can hear you are desperate, she said over the phone, I'll come as soon as I can. 


That was the beginning of my climb out of breastfeeding hell although it has not been an easy time. I've had laser treatment on my nipples. Mastitis visited me three times. Dragon was diagnosed with posterior tongue tie. I got thrush in the nipple and Dragon got it on her tongue which we both still have. I developed a bacterial infection in my milk ducts.

One of the stated benefits of breastfeeding is that it is inexpensive but for me to try and get a hang of it has cost a fortune. Probably the cost of formula for a year. Just the lactation consultant alone was £70 an hour. But I had no choice as there was nothing else available to me on the NHS.

The roll call of medication I've taken because of breastfeeding complications has included antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, anti-fungal oral and topical treatment and paracetamol. A far cry from my pregnancy where nary a panadol crossed my lips for the entire nine months. The irony of this doesn't seem to filter down to the Breast is Best brigade who say:

The medication doesn't hurt the baby or the breastmilk.

But what about the mother? What about the effect of all these pills on her?

What about the I'm in Pain, Get this Baby Off Me position?

Because of my experience, I have learned more about breastfeeding than I ever desired to. I have spoken to and been seen by lactation consultants, breastfeeding counsellers, breastfeeding coordinators, breastfeeding pharmacists, personnel from the Breastfeeding Network and trained volunteers from the La Leche and NCT breastfeeding helplines.  So many people have looked at my boobs, nipples and latch that I am now more comfortable half naked with strangers than not.  From all these conversations and sessions I have drawn my own conclusions.

And that is the Breast is not always Best. And by that I mean breastfeeding. I do not mean breast milk which can have excellent benefits for the little one. But even this is contextual. After all, if the mum is taking in toxic substances or boozing it up or whatever, that isn't best at all.

The bond of intimacy created by breastfeeding between mum and bub is also only best if it is a positive experience for all. When I dreaded the sight of my daughter in the early days of breastfeeding, there was no constructive bonding going on.

Further to this, when Dragon started on the bottle and was fed by my Husband and my Mum, it created a bond between her and them that was special from an early age. After getting over my own ego of wanting to be The One and Only in my daughter's eyes, I fully appreciated how valuable it was that she be cared for by and trusting of others.  Like the saying goes, it takes a village....


The pressure on new mothers to breastfeed in the UK is immense. Whether it be direct pressure from midwives or lactation consultants who ignore the agony etched upon a new mother's face and only have one answer to all her entreaties (Breast is Best, Breast is Best)  or subliminal pressure such as being told things like, Imagine the discomfort of a cold, plastic teat in your baby's mouth as opposed to a nice , warm breast; it all serves to instill guilt in a new mother if she is not breastfeeding. It all serves to fuck her up!

As if she didn't have enough to deal with already.One lactation consultant suggested I find a pharmacist who would be willing to make up an ointment for me that duplicated a type sold in America but was not legal here to treat my nipple thrush as I'd had it for over a month.

Lady, I wanted to say, I have a newborn kid. I don't even finish a cup of coffee in the morning. I don't have time to find someone who will help me break the law.


The bulldozer approach is never going to win which is why the UK has such low breastfeeding statistics. There is insufficient support for women who run into problems in the first few weeks and so they give up. Or get trapped into a vicious cycle of complications and give up. It's all very well for the government to push breastfeeding as a message.  But with low resources invested in helping women establish it as a practice, the stats are going to stay low as there is nowhere to turn to when you run into trouble.  With Breast is Best continually shoved in their faces, new mothers will continue to suffer and feel guilty if they are unable to breastfeed.

It all makes me very angry and it's not just the post pregnancy hormones. The stress and pressure of breastfeeding robbed me of those early weeks with Dragon. I'll never get those first moments back. Had I known then what I know now, I would not have let breastfeeding take over the way it did post birth.

As for Dragon and I, we've got it all going on. Breast, bottle, boobmilk and formula. We're still finding our way but it WILL be our way and that's what's best for us.

New Parents Don't...

Just some observations of mine from the first few weeks of parenthood.

New parents dont't have mealtimes. They just shove in whatever they can scavenge as quickly as possible.

New parents don't have conversations with one another. They use walkie talkie lingo. Is she fed? Yes. Changed? Yes. Sleeping? Yes. Good.

New parents don't operate on clock time but feed and sleep time.

New parents are constantly lurching between terror and love.

New parents don't read more than three sentences at a time. Apart from articles found through Google about what to do if your baby is ____ (fill in the blank)

New parents don't get to finish cups of coffee or tea.

New parents don't fit their lives around anyone else apart from their baby. For now.

New parents don't care if you are put out by the new status quo. If you are a real friend, suck it up.

New parents don't care that much about themselves for now. As long as the baby is alright.

New parents don't do much for the first few hours but stare. At their baby.

New parents don't realise the scope of their own parents until it's their turn.

New parents don't want to hear negative things

New parents don't wear the emotional armour they usually have.

New parents don't know what the hell they are doing.

New parents don't want to ever go back to a life without their baby.

Love is a Battlefield

Pat Benatar was right. Love really is a battlefield. It's a war zone. It's the night of the living dead.

Dragon entered my life one month ago. She came promptly on her due date in a birth so glorious and straightforward that it seemed too good to be true. Yes it was painful. Yes it was hard. But as I twisted my sweaty head towards the open hospital window and watched dawn break as I pushed my baby into our world, I was conscious of how wonderful all of it was. Post birth, I was on a high.  I vaguely clocked that the little blinking creature on my chest was my responsibility. I was too busy cracking jokes with the midwife and doula. My husband was slumped in an ashen, grey heap somewhere in the corner.

They're tiny but they pack a punch

 I lost that high somewhere in the post natal ward where they deposited me and Dragon afterwards and left us alone. I realised that the buck stopped with me. I was her lifeline. It was utterly terrifying. Like many new, first time parents I didn't sleep a wink that night (or any thereafter), watching her breathe. I got on my Blackberry and unleashed my terror upon all my friends who handled this first time mum with care and understanding. That night was also when the tears set in. 

The tears continued for many days and nights as the spectre of breastfeeding reared its ugly head. All I can say about that right now is that if I had the guts to chop my breasts off, I would. Breastfeeding rendered me into a state of despair so deep I feared for my mental health. In the space of three weeks, I'd experienced thrush, mastitis, having Dragon's tongue tie snipped, severely damaged nipples and pain so bad that I would go through labour again rather than endure it.

Subsequently I have learnt a lot about breastfeeding the hard way. Not only about the physiology of it but the politics, the socio-cultural context and the pros and cons of how it is promoted to new mums in the UK.  More of that another time.

They say that nothing can prepare you for it and that's true. I could not have predicted the brutality of new parenthood, which in my case was severely exacerbated by breastfeeding problems.  But I'm lucky for Dragon was born a healthy, happy baby who I hope to keep that way for as long as I can.

For nothing can prepare you for the intensity of the love you have for your baby either. The love which keeps you afloat amongst the gruelling drudgery of looking after a newborn on no sleep.

Love is a battlefield but the fight is wholly, with yourself.

Enter the Dragon

Where oh where did those nine months go?

Enjoy the time chirruped all my (wise) mum friends, It won't come again.

And as I find myself perched on the precipice of labour, I couldn't agree with them more.

Why is it that we pregnant-for-the-first-time-women spend nine months fretting and worrying and busying ourselves with a million and one inconsequentials only to find that as we stare into the pit face of the unknown (a.k.a giving birth at any point now), we are none the wiser and wide-eyed as ever. The armour of information and stuff that you've accumulated over the past nine months is precisely that. Armour. It may help you but it won't do the work for you.

I have no control of what is about to happen. A thought that is petrifying and thrilling at the same time.

Looking back, I can now say that I have enjoyed my pregnancy. Despite the discomfort of symptoms, the hormonal madness and sometimes difficult life changes, I have enjoyed observing what's been happening to me; both physically and emotionally. 

I appreciate though that it is only the very beginning of something. Something enormous and fantastical. And by that I don't mean Dragon's head.

What I mean, is Dragon's heart.

I'm soon to meet my baby.

Oh boy.

Movie-a-Go-Go!

Somewhere along the line in my pregnancy I read that you should go and see as many movies as possible before the baby comes. That those quiet soujourns in a darkened cinema would become a distant memory for some years to come.

Being a movie junkie at heart, I didn't need any further convincing and have spent many a blissful afternoon since in celluloid escapism.

Some of the flicks that I have seen include Black Swan, The Social Network, The Kings Speech, Morning Glory, Blue Valentine, Little Fockers and Another Year. Of the lot, The Social Network won it hands down for me. I love geeks. I always thought they would inherit the earth.

Maybe all this movie watching will make me one of these?

Before Dragon arrives, I'd also like to squeeze in Biutiful, Barney's Version, How Do You Know, Somewhere, True Grit, Rabbit Hole and Fair Game.

I'm topping up for the year to come. Can you blame me?

Childcare :The Buck Starts Here

About two months ago over dinner some friends suggested that we start thinking about childcare options for our unborn, unnamed baby. 

Freaked out on the way home, I said to the Husband:

But s/he's not even born yet!

He just shook his head and replied:

Homeschooling.

Dragon still isn't born but over the past few weeks I've started checking out some of the local nurseries in my area.  Up against the coalface of future parenting reality, I either have to ditch my university course which I'm loathe to do or locate some childcare options quicksmart for when I return to study. Quick being the operative word as places go fast. Even for an unborn child.

Are they sitting quietly because they've been drugged?

 The thing is that everytime I've been to see one of these nurseries, something in me breaks a little. It doesn't matter how nice the staff seem nor how happy the kids look. Whether the meals are organic or if the fees are expensive rather than exorbitant. I feel a little sad each time.

Will I be able to leave my child at one of these places? Maybe when the time comes I'll welcome the break?

I don't know.

It's a small taste of the heartbreak a parent goes through. And I don't even have my stripes yet.

Mama Ain't Raisin' No Fool!

I saw this today. It made me laugh:

My Mother Wears Combat Boots

Today I discovered the existence of this book:

I want to read it immediately.

At an estimate, I've read about 70-80 books on the subject of motherhood, pregnancy, birth et al. I started about 5 years ago when a close friend in Australia had her first baby. I wanted to try and get an insight into what she was experiencing.  I ransacked my local library and Oxfam; hoovering up information much the same way a catfish hoovers an aquarium.

Since becoming pregnant myself, I've gorged again on the written word. But much of what I've read is so bland. I feels as if these books are addressing mothers as a faceless, homogenous group. I find that they don't really acknowledge the Person behind the Pregnancy or Parenting and are very Prescriptive.

A few books however have stood out for me. Ones that made me laugh, made me think or seared images into my brain indelibly. Making Babies by Anne Enright which has the best description I've come across as to how it feels to be pregnant. Rebecca Walker's Baby Love; Emma Tom's Attack of the Fifty Foot Hormones; Minus Nine to One by Jools Oliver, Life After Birth by Kate Figes and the one whose title or author I can't remember but whose description of tearing during her vaginal birth and subsequent experience of a fistula made me keep my legs shut for several years. I appreciated her brutal honesty even though it made me wince.

What's apparent is that pregnancy memoirs are more my thing than the Week One, Week Two, Week Three variety.  These have their place and are useful but I prefer people's stories. Even though we humans have been pro-creating forever, it's still a unique experience everytime. Memoirs remind us of this.

That's why I like them.