C-sections cut deep

Nearly four months ago, little TJ entered this world via emergency c-section.

Like so many others, I had a relatively easy pregnancy so there were no early indications that my delivery would be anything but “normal” (whatever that means).

Then came an induction due to reduced movement which led to an epidural and pethidine. But with no sign of even dilating 1cm after 12 hours of excruciating contractions and TJ’s heart rate dropping, it was a different story.

Today, I’m feeding TJ and One Born Every Minute came on and they show a c-section. I immediately start crying.

Whilst physically I’m recovering, emotionally there’s still a long way to go.

I have tried to watch YouTube videos of c-sections to try and get my head around what happened. I’ve never got through it. So that’s why I kept the TV on today – I needed to see it. I needed to remember it’s not just me.

The actual procedure went well. But the c-section recovery marred my first days and weeks of motherhood. My body didn’t pop back to normal like other c-section mamas I know. The drugs I relied on for weeks of pain relief were also my worst enemy as I remember so little. I still get twinges and pain in the area making it difficult to feel like “me” again.

I know it’s all OK as TJ is healthy, happy and all-round perfect. And I will be fine too. But, having been robbed of the birth experience I dreamed of, it’s going to take a while before I can put it all behind me.

The knowing look

I walked passed a fellow mum today and we exchanged a glance which said a thousand words.

It said that we knew why neither of us was wearing any make-up.

It said that we knew why both of us were wearing leggings.

It said that we’ve not had a full night of sleep for too long.

It said that we’re both finding our feet in parenthood.

It’s a good knowing look because we’re all in this crazy mess of marvellous motherhood together!

Do you know the look I mean?

Image credit – The Mirror

Baby, I need a massage

Following suit with other mums looking for a stimulating activity for their baby and an excuse to get out of the house, TJ and I signed up to baby massage classes.

It didn’t even occur to me that TJ might not be a fan – he’s more than used to being handled by now and he has seemed more than happy in our other group activities (namely, Gymboree baby sensory).

How wrong I was.

Less than two seconds into the class and TJ decided it wasn’t for him. He did the kind of crying where they stop breathing for a second (I’m sure you know what I mean).

He decided the class was actually OK another two seconds before the class ended.

We signed up for the five-week course anyway and I’ve got some notes for homework so TJ is more up for the treat next week.

If not, I’ll see if they can upgrade my booking to an adult massage class as, after trying to calm the little man down, I’m the one who needed the relaxation treatment.

What a shower of sh*t

I showered today. And washed my hair. This is the first time I have managed such a feat when it’s just been TJ and I at home.

The little man behaved perfectly, happily entertaining himself while strapped in his chair. I was so proud of him as I washed and dressed myself.

It wasn’t until I picked him up afterwards that I realised there was an explosive poo in his pants.

So I had enjoyed a whole five minutes being 100% sure I didn’t have baby by-product on me somewhere … Ah, the joys of motherhood!

There’s no point crying over spilt (breast) milk

Like most mums in a morning, I rush around trying to get a million jobs done. This morning, I tried to do too much and knocked over some expressed breast milk.

I have low supply so every drop of that stuff really is “liquid gold” to me and every bit I make is for TJ. Well, except for the 60ml I spent 20 minutes pumping out this morning.

I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to boost supply. I even begged my GP for some potentially questionable pills which are supposed to help (they didn’t).

But having had my heart set on breastfeeding ever since I did a wee on that little stick nearly a year ago, I’ve kept on trying.

So it’s a bit frustrating when all that hard work gets mopped up by kitchen roll!

Ah well, lesson learnt. Until next time I’m rushing around to get millions of jobs done at once of course.

Anyone else had problems with low milk supply? If so, any tips?

Screen time

I’ve been getting plenty of my own screen time in by staring at the baby monitor. After a couple of months of TJ calling it a day at the same time as mum and dad, it was time for him to hit the sack on his own.

It’s not been easy of course but we’re getting there. I just need to train my own eyes to stop staring at the baby monitor and to relish evenings with the other man in my life (TJ’s Dad) by catching up on my box sets instead.

Any tips for successful sleep training?