The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Showing posts with label breast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast. Show all posts
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Magical.
Over the past year our not so little boy has gone from a 10lbs 13oz fragile (yes, really!) baby who needed nothing more than his parents, boobs and warmth to a walking, babbling and very funny toddler who goes to nursery, eats spaghetti bolognese and shares it with the cat! Twice this week already I have genuinely cried just watching him and thinking how truly magical the whole thing is. So much has changed and yet the centre is the same; that of our family. The three of us.
There are times when I've been exhausted, rundown and at the end of any patience I ever had but when I watch that silly boy waddle over to me, laughing, clutching 'That's not my monster' for me to read again I cannot help but feel blessed.
As he dances to the hot dog song, turning around with a toothy grin to check we are watching, I can't help but think of my life and where I have ended up. Really, I've ended up at the beginning. The beginning of a new life which we created, which I carried safely and which I bought into the world on a hot, steamy night in our little flat in Leigh, Florence and the Machine as our soundtrack.
I don't think it will ever cease to amaze me each time a new life enters the world. The potential in that one tiny person, who has no idea yet which lies before them. Adventure, love, sadness. They have all of this to come and have no idea where they will be heading.
As I gaze upon our first born now, his personality is clear, his tastes confident. Ethan likes beans, not carrots. Ethan likes 'Jake and the Neverland Pirates', not 'In the Night Garden.' Ethan likes attention and will NOT be ignored by anyone, even the old man on the bus. So, predominately, if he doesn't change much, Ethan is going to be a dramatic, farting buccaneer! Lovely stuff!
Seriously though, I am so blessed and feel I should never forget this. As parents we should never forget how lucky we are. There are women and men everywhere who can't have children or have lost children for all number of reasons. You've probably spoken to one of them without realising it. So next time someone gazes over at your family or giggles at your baby, they could just be being friendly or that gaze and giggle could be masking all kinds of pain we can only imagine.
Be kind to your friends with children; we all make different choices for different reasons. Be thoughtful of the kindness of strangers; it is wonderful. Be understanding of childless friends; they have their own problems which are no less important than yours as a parent.
Feel blessed. Everyday. However hard it can be.
I love you Ethan George Hadley. More than you will ever know. You are my inspiration in everything I do, my dream turned to reality and my greatest creation. One day I hope you read this blog (you'll be asking what the hell a blog is) and feel proud. I would have achieved everything as a writer if that day comes.
Also, I will apologise in advance for all the swearing Son. Bad Mummy.
Thursday, 13 September 2012
From Birth to Breast.
The best word to describe the past 6 weeks is intense. Physically and emotionally intense. In some ways it doesn't feel that long since I was faced with the shock that I had just given birth to our 10lbs 13oz baby boy in our bedroom without pain relief! Now, I don't bring this up to boast but to this day it all feels a little surreal when people ask about the labour and I give this answer. The looks and comments I get are priceless and never fail to entertain me. Most of the time however, it feels as though Ethan has always been here and I have no idea what I did before he arrived. It is as though I have spent my whole life, in particular 9 and a half months waiting and preparing for something which you can never really prepare for fully.
I may have prepared my body, my mind and home to some extent but I certainly didn't prepare my breasts for what was to come. I was always determined to breastfeed, as my mother did; it seemed the natural choice. I read the books, undertook the training and assumed it would just happen. How naive I was. I figured that breastfeeding would only hurt if you did it 'wrong.' What I hadn't prepared myself for is how hungry babies are, how comforting my boobs are and how much strength of suck a newborn has!
For the first 3 weeks of breastfeeding at least I can only compare our son to a snappy turtle or one of those teethy animal heads on sticks kids get from museums or the zoo. It got to the point where the sight of the deadly jaws of my beautiful boy approaching my nipple filled me with genuine fear and bought many tears to my eye! Breastfeeding is an incredibly natural process, with practise and support. Thankfully after 6 weeks we have managed to settle into breastfeeding but it hasn't been without a lot of tears (on both sides of the breast), guilt and the odd bottle of aptamil. Some will judge those who bottle feed, whether it be the odd bottle or completely but my opinion on this is make your own choice, keep judgement to yourself and understand that the most valuable thing for a baby is a happy Mummy.
Until I gave birth myself I never imagined there would be such heated debate and in my opinion, ill treatment of women for their feeding choices of their own children. I have made my feeding choice for our son but it is just that; my choice. It is not the choice of the health visitor who tells me I am a 'failure' at breastfeeding (actual words) nor is it the choice of the multitude of leaflets which shout BREAST IS BEST over and over again. I may have managed to continue breastfeeding but I don't blame or judge any woman who has stopped breastfeeding at any point. It is hard work, really hard and for some it is impossible both physically and mentally to function and perform as a mother under the level or pressure and pain experienced. Think nipples bleeding while spending half an hour attempting to attach your crying baby to you only to then sit crying in pain for the next hour while they feed. Then imagine getting a 20 minute break before starting the whole process again. Over and over again. Top this with a generous dose of loneliness (as you are the only one able to feed your child at this point) and you have some idea of whether breast is always best.
As I say, I have continued with breastfeeding but this is my personal choice and you can quote me as saying that there have been points far more difficult than labour itself. Having continued with breastfeeding the next hurdle has been feeding in public. Now I am pretty sure that in the days when my weekends (and sometimes week nights) were spent necking cocktails and shots I flashed a boob or two but doing so when sober in daytime hours is a daunting prospect for most women. My first experience of public feeding really threw me straight into it. Sitting in a lovely cafe Utopia in Southend enjoying lunch with my Mum I rapidly realised Ethan was looking a little chompy. Instead of feeding him immediately I decided to start a conversation with him to ask whether he wanted to eat and begging for a clear signal. After a few minutes of this my Mum told me that I need to make a decision, rather than Ethan. Good point. The poor boy is not a lady that lunches, he is 4 weeks old and hungry. With my muslin cloth at the ready and fingers crossed I manage to get Ethan on to the breast without any nipple flashing and not one judgemental look from staff or customers. Lucky me. It has not been unheard of for women to breastfeed their babies in public toilets. As my health visitor said today would we eat lunch in a public toilet? After all my worrying Ethan fed for less than 5 minutes which tells me he either wanted to make the experience less traumatic for me or he got stage fright!
I could probably discuss breastfeeding and the judgement and guilt placed upon women for their feeding choice for the whole blog but will just end with these words. Hot Milk. Beautiful nursing bras; disturbing company name. There is nothing hot (in the sexy sense) about my massive milk machines.
Ethan and I at 5 weeks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)