National Breastfeeding Week; Our Story so far.

Euan is sixteen weeks this week, and our breastfeeding journey started a few moments after he was born. It’s luckily been, after his initial weight loss, a pretty straightforward journey. Not that it particularly felt that way at the beginning.

I am, as you know a second time mum this time round but it made me none the wiser on breastfeeding. Delilah never took to it, she had a tongue tie and due to not holding out in fear of her losing too much weight I took to pumping and combi feeding for her. Pumping lasted 6 months and then it became too time consuming along with everything else I was trying to do at the time.

This time, I had read up a whole load, I was so much more determined and I knew it was a normal occurance for a newborn to lose some weight a few days after birth (because these are the things they don’t tell you before you have babies). Euan was pretty easy to latch, we didn’t struggle but despite this being the case and havijg our latch checked by every midwife we saw, he lost 9% of his birth weight over the first 2 weeks. We were referred to “the feeding team” who failed to help in the slightest, not even a phone call. It was suggested that I use formula to top up initially to get his weight in check, this bothered me no end. It was however the right thing to do for my boy to help him get started.

Along with pumping after every feed, topping him up with the expressed milk and one bottle of formula every day, we managed to get on track but the help and support was somewhat none existant. Hubs bought formula and heavily suggested to go that way too, which killed me inside even though I knew he meant well. Failure this time round was not so option in my head, so I battled it all. Even my grandmother who had 2 kids herself bluntly ask “why the bloody hell are you doing that?”. I’m still met with “well how long are you going to feed him” to which I now simply say un-flustered, “till he decides otherwise”.

Being stuck to the sofa for weeks with our newborn schedule was tiresome but I was so determined not to give into the formula pressure from all sides. I just knew it wasn’t the end of our journey, I knew formula wasn’t right for us. And because of that I will be forever proud of us for sticking with it, the lack of support has been the hardest thing to get through. For a community of midwives, Dr’s and health professionals I was perplexed at how easy it was for them to all say “formula” despite me being so avid about breastfeeding.

Dont get me wrong, I’m on the side of “fed is best” but I was 1000% sure I wanted to breastfeed my son, so the lack of guidance or help postpartum has been diabolical. Maybe it was just because of lockdown? Postpartum care in fact has been lacking. As an individual I’ve been lucky enough not to suffer with any baby blues or depression despite having a history of mental health issues, but one phone call asking “how are you” in regard to the purely physical aftermath is not enough.

Why are we not looking after new mams?  The lack of care for us mums after this monumental change is possibly the most shocking thing. We’re checked up on at regular intervals over our pregnancy, yet as soon as baby is born we get one phone call and no further check ups. What has your experience been like with postpartum care? Was it the same as mine? What’s your postpartum story?

Going back to breastfeeding, we’ve hit leap 4 and I’m not going to lie I’m finding feedingbcrazy tiring. Euan constantly wants to be feeding. He will not nap and it’s so hard to put him down for even 5 mins. Trying to go for a wee holding a baby is all kinds of hard, pulling up your jeans after is beyond difficult. He naps on boob, as soon as he falls away I’ll try put him down but he will be right awake within seconds most of the time. Mix that with very nearly 4 year old who would like all the attention still, it’s been a rough leap so far. It seems delivery drivers always call when he needs feeding or mid feed too. Typical.

I’d just like to say, to mums (dads) all over, breastfeeding or not, well done! Parenting is hard. Bronze, silver, gold awards for breastfeeding boobies, higher awards or not at all, you are doing amazing things everyday just raising them little humans. As long as they’re loved, fed and cared for you are winning.

I’d love to hear your feeding stories, share them in the comments with us and know that this is a judgement free, safe space.

Love,
L, xox

PMSing. Hard!

Bloating – check

Weight gain due to fluid retention (and bloating) – check

Appetite disruptions – check (double check if you count wanting to eat the content on the house and then not wanting to eat at all)

Headaches – check

Boobache – check

Mood swing – check

Anger fuse – what effing fuse? I mean, check.

So here it is, the raw honest truth about massively PMSing. I’m not normally a sufferer, but I want to rip out somebody’s throat today.

How the he’ll can’t you gain 4lbs since yesterday body? It’s certainly not funny. So now you’ve got me (well a combo of you bloated self doubtingness, and man) waiting for Chinese deliver and it’s after 10pm.

I’m so unbelievably angry for no reason, at everything it’s funny. Or at least it will be, when I’ve bled out for 5 days not died and slept. Now I’m a little less angry because the gin kicked in. Another thing I blame bloating for. Two single measures of gin and I’m done. Like not drunk drunk, but slightly squiffy. Squiffy enough to shout about PMS.

Being a woman is hard bloody work.

Now don’t get me wrong, we have the pleasure of pregnancy and child birth. Yes, childbirth is painful but the whole process is amazing and for the most parts enjoyable. But periods? Then when your done with that menopause?!

Who thought of that? Who decided that women would just bleed and then have hot flushes? Oh yeah and to top it off, most women don’t get better with age. I’ve already decided I’m going to be a ‘glam-ma’ when I’m older (if we have grandbabies [in the very distant future]).

Takeout is still not here and the gin is wearing off. Not a good sign for the delivery driver. Best of luck to that guy!

Xoxo, L

** edit** takeaway didn’t turn up till 11pm and the feeling of wanting to rip someone’s throat out and feed it to them (physically impossible, I know) has returned. Oh good luck to anyone crossing me tomorrow. I don’t even want to cross me.

Sit Still

Have you ever tried to take a photograph of a nine month old child? Yes? How much of a workout is that?

Heads up, it’s a picture dump post…

I had the brilliant idea when walking back from the village. I bought Dela a bubble wand, sensory play and all that. Yeah I’m down with baby sensory. Love the stuff in fact. ‘Wouldn’t it be cute’ I thought ‘to get a picture of her with bubbles around when she’s looking up at them’.

Optimistic me.

We started in our dark and (currently) shabbily decorated living room. Dela didn’t have a huge reaction to the actual bubbles, she was more interested in the wand so kept crawling straight to me to grab it. And I’ll tell you for nowt (Yorkshire term) it’s really difficult to take a picture, blow bubbles and fend off a child with grabby hands. As you can see from this picture of the first batch (oh there were many), the backdrop is awful and the baby isn’t even paying attention to the glossy bubbles falling around her.

‘I know’ my inner monologue piped up again ‘let’s go in Dela’s room and try with a nice, bright backdrop’. Tucking the baby under arm and doing a light jog up the stairs (she finds this hilarious), pop her on the rug in her room and we are joined by the menagerie. Yep, all three cats and the demon dog followed. So we’re sat (all of us) in a white and pink room and I’m blowing bubbles and trying to keep the baby in one place and the dog and cats out of shot. And breath.

Ushered the dog back down the stairs. Cats revert to basking in the sun on the window sill. Dela wanted to be everywhere but where I plonked her. In a wise moment I though the standing fan would make a great bubble blower, I’d still have to hold the wand but it would do the blowing.

No. Just no.

The fan blew the bubbles in an upward frenzy and popped against the walls. Sigh. Still no nice photo.

Dogs pushed his nose through Dela’s bedroom door, cats sat hissing at him, Dela is chasing the cats round on her hands and knees. ‘Maybe an outfit change’ inner Lotty chimes into the chaos. The bubbles now lost in the mix.

I westle with the baby to change her outfit. For every item of clothing I took off her she made a dash for a cat. “DAT” she’s shouting them. “No Delilah sit still, let mummy just… urgh” she’s pinned India to the floor and started to ‘pat pat the cat’. I’m so pleased India is the softest kitty ever, I’m afraid any other cat would have swiped out for this treatment. Lucky, lucky Dela. I shuffle my backdrop as she’s distracted by the purry furry, grab her and set her down and start snapping.

As you can see it went really well!

She got adventurous and crawled between her wardrobe and cot, but then she got stuck so had a melt down. “Delilah will you sit still!” I felt like I was going to follow suit with the melt down front.

She gave me the run around, but apart from the ‘I got stuck’ melt down we were pretty happy. A fidget but happy all the same. Finally, finally I got a couple of okay shots. Some are a little hazy, but I liked them anyway and no bubbles in sight.

Im no photographer as you can very much see, but we got there in the end. The best bit was she crashed out for a nap as soon as I put her down. All that run around really helped.

Star cushion was from Next (last year). Rug from Ikea and Delilah’s all-in-one from George @ Asda.

Now I’m going to fall in a heap on the sofa and enjoy a glass of wine. Happy Friday Lovers.

Xoxo, L.

Just a Moment

I took a moment to not write last night. I’ve been drowning in everything. House work, no break from taking care of every one else, feeling inadequate and uncomfortable in the body I have at the moment and just not having time to just breath purely for myself.

I am proud and pleased to say I put everyone before me, but I just needed a moment. A simple, selfish moment when I’m only me. When I’m not mummy or fiancee or daughter or granddaughter or housekeeper or menagerie owner. A silent moment of nothingness. The thing about being an introvert is that I crave a little down time. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my tribe. I love them a million times over and more, and I would do anything for them.

I keep thinking I’ll try get back to running maybe 3 times a week. Get up earlier and just get out and alone for just 30 mins for a run maybe with Demon dog, although he makes running so very difficult. Might start fulfilling my needs as an introvert. It might improve my fuse, because currently the smallest thing sets me off.

It’s certainly worth a shot.

On the upside, this weather is glorious! We’re enjoying it completely, and tomorrow Delilah gets to meet my godmother for the first time and we are very much looking forward to seeing them. We intend to get together at the park, the one with a decent cafe. It means that Ems and Dela and N (my oldests friends son/my godmother’s grandson) can have a play in the sun and we can have a coffee and a chat.

Yesterday Dela and I went to play at Nana’s while the lads were at Airsoft. Dela likes her splashing bowl, and stole my icelolly. Fun was had by all.

I hope you are enjoying the the, And taking care of yourselves. We all need to do that, and I need to practice what I preach.

Xoxo, L.

20,000

20,000 steps. Well that’s topped up my workout from first thing this morning! Winning!

Anyone who read yesterday’s post will know I ordered my shopping online. One item on my list was coconut oil. I’m cooking super healthy and this is the oil I prefer to use. Now I have on the substitutes, meaning if the supermarket doesn’t have what I’ve ordered I will get an alternative.

3 of my items were substituted. Desiccated coconut. Just a swap out for a different brand. Great, okay. Fabulous in fact. At least I got this item. Second was almond milk, I use it in my shakes. Again just a brand swap. So perfectly fine. Coconut oil. Let me reiterate that. Coconut oil. My coconut oil was replaced with CREAMED COCONUT! Just what?!

Can someone please tell me (other than the word coconut) what these products have in common? I have no words. I think a closer item would have been olive oil or any kind of oil. Needless to say I refused this item at the door and will go coconut oil-less until I find some.

Tuesday’s are our out and about days with Dela’s Nana. We took a long walk, a coffee, a play in the park and a mini (healthy) picnic. My neice threw most of her sandwich on the floor because it obvs the best game in the world. Dela fell asleep at lunch time so missed the lot. I’m of the opinion that you shouldn’t wake a sleeping baby, especially for food. She will always eat once she’s woken up, you wake her, she might not nap again and be ratty for the rest of it.

For dinner we used up my pre prep’d courgette and bacon slice. I made some chocolate chip banana bread, and some peanut butter bubble crunch. There’s also a picture of my oats, which were heaven for breaky. If you haven’t tried frozen raspberries yet, go do it now. They’re like little frozen ice pops.

All in all a good day. And no disastrous happening so far, and it’s all most bed time.

Xoxo, L.