So this will be a short one..... Juggling mum duties, wife duties, work duties and yourself. This is something I struggle with, hugely. I work away pretty much every week so when I am home I feel I need to make up for lost time with both my baby girl and my husband. This leaves me putting myself and my needs at the bottom of the pile. Is that necessarily appropriate or deserved, probably not. Years ago this would be standard practice but nowadays mums are more preened, well looked after and presented than they have ever been. Why? I'm sorry if this leads you to believe that I have the answers to this, because I do not. However I do have my own opinion as to why this is and it comes from personal experience. This year I have made probably one of my first ever new years resolutions!! Something I never do because I have never stuck to them and by February I have forgotten what they were anyway. What is my resolution....? to make a fucking effort! I am the ultimate lounging lady, I love being comfortable and ultimately being in my home (when it's nice and clean). However with 2 very hairy dogs I rarely lounge in proper clothes or attractive 'lounge wear', I lounge in my dressing gown. This leads to a self deprecating cycle of; forgetting to shower, hair migrating from well brushed and loose to mum bun, unshaven legs, falling asleep on the sofa and then crawling to bed after only brushing teeth and forgoing washing my face as I'm just too tired to be bothered. This combination of events leads me to feel frumpy, unkempt, unhealthy (even if all I eat is salads) and most definitely not yummy mummy and sexy. So, in order to feel better about myself, my body, my health and happiness I am making an effort to actually aim to look presentable even if I am spending the day at home. Now, this does not mean that I'll put make up on to lie around the house, I'm just not that type of girl. But I will be washing my face day and night (I'm 30 now and wrinkles won't chase themselves away), maintaining clean hair, keeping up with all my preening and generally taking time to pamper myself so that I feel good. This also extends to actually spending money on myself rather than just the new baby, my baby girl, my husband, the dogs, or the house. I can't exactly feel great in holey knickers can I?! This dawned on me when my husband surprised me with a trip for my birthday, there I am in my bun, sans make up and we only end up in Louis Vuitton to pick up my custom mon monogram! Never. Again. So, watch this space for actual lounge wear and some simple but classic basics that are easy to throw together and suitable for any occasion. It's important to treat yourself now and again, by no means break the bank, always stick to your budget. But a new top or bag can make you feel extra special and I fully intend to feel extra special this year when I have 2 under 2 and will probably be extra frazzled. Will some old fashioned mums judge me for this, maybe. Do I care, no. When I look and feel better and more confident then I am far more pleasant to be around. I am more positive, effective and efficient. So if I have to set aside a small amount of time for myself so that I can be a better wife, mother and be more effective in work then I will. 2018, the year of the intermediate yummy mummy. Maybe 2019 will be the year that I put on a face and make sure my hair is in place daily.... don't hold your breath. Katie xx From this.... To this.....
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No matter how you look at it, approach it, discuss it, or even think about discussing it, breast feeding is a loaded subject. You're judged by others for doing it and you're judged for not. There have been periods where it was considered the only way to feed your baby, followed by bottle feeding being the dominant method and now it's anyone's guess. I have friends who knew they didn't want to breastfeed and those that couldn't, I myself was adamant that I was going to breastfeed my baby. I had read hundreds of articles on how to ensure breastfeeding success (and I believe that a large part of my success in breastfeeding was down to my hell bent determination).
I had times when I questioned why it was so important to me, was it purely because I knew (thought) that 'breast is best', or was it this huge overhanging societal pressure that we face as mothers to provide everything for not just our babies but our whole families as naturally as possible??!! Looking drop dead scrummy mummy while we do it (because it's totes simple to let alone shower with a newborn)!! For whatever reason when Florence came out of me I was fully prepared to go to whatever lengths I had to to feed her exclusively. She had her first feed 10 minutes after coming out, and every 10 minutes there after till she was 6 months pretty much! I immediately fell in love with that skin to skin bond and the closeness of feeding my baby, it was natural and primal and at that very first feed I knew it was for me. The rest of that first night however, I was questioning the beauty of the whole thing entirely! For those of you who are preparing to breastfeed or have breastfed I'm sure you've seen the nurses and midwives doing the whole duck hand latch thing with their hands on how to get the best latch so feeding never hurts, they even bring in breastfeeding 'ambassadors' who are perfectly lovely and their to offer support, but the whole schpeel about it 'never causing pain' - nonsense!! I delivered in the early evening at 18:11, so by the time I was washed down, stitched up and given my biscuit it was closing in on 9pm and I was going up to the ward on my own as visiting was over. Baring in mind as a first time mum you have no clue what is going on, every time Florence cried I was throwing her on, because I wanted breastfeeding to be a success and also because I didn't want to wake the other babies on the ward. That night was when the damage was done!! The ward was roasting, it was mid May and about 25 degrees and there was a heat lamp in the room as one of the babies was premature. I was hugely swollen and disgracefully sweaty and trying to properly hold Florence and latch her on was wild. Instead of persevering and taking her off if the latch was wrong I just left her to it dangling from the tip. I have never experienced anything like it, I was raw, bleeding and terrified. I was biting my lip every time I put her on as it was just pain on top of pain. Luckily I was released the next day as I truly believe I wouldn't have had the success I had if I had stayed in hospital. As if trying to figure out how to care for your new baby let alone feed your baby when you're a first time mother isn't hard enough. Some midwives are vert helpful but some truly are not. And I have now been told that they are not even recommending lanolin anymore, they have to train you in the correct latch. It sometimes feels as if they make it as hard as they can, is this meant to spur us on to try for the perfect latch because it only makes the whole thing harder. At home, I would wait for the right latch and take her off if need be, once I figured it out, taking a baby off is not as simple as you would think! But that didn't stop the nipple cross examinations and the judgement from some midwives till I got it right. I think they really need to give some of us a break. I get that it's meant to be in our best interest so we're not bleeding into the milk supply for the entirety of our breast feeding journey, but throwing out some encouraging words or passing the lanolin really shouldn't be doing much harm. It still took about a week to ten days for me to put her on just right. I firmly believe that newborns don't have a big enough mouth to cover your whole nipple anyway! Then a subsequent 2 weeks for the pain (and bleeding) to properly subside. Now, after this it is not pain free, for many months after as soon as your let down (when the milk starts coming out) kicks in, it does sting. For me, when Florence fed from one side the other side would leak and sting. But after the first time your baby goes more than that 2 hour window without a feed and your boobs almost pop, nipples flying out like darts, that sting is the sweetest relief!! Some fabulous side effects are your pert new boobies. Ok, so they leak, they're permanently sore, they're lumpy, and you are forever smuggling brazils, the boob swell can be so extreme that your nipples are in completely different orientations, they're as vascular as a body builder, they smell of old milk, your bras are as far removed from flattering never mind sexy that is physically possible, you may even have a cabbage leaf in there comfort (as if the smell of milk wasn't bad enough) and you can occasionally get serious boob sweats. But overlooking all these things, about 1 hour after a feed you've got a great pair! I could go on and on, but I think I might do a separate post on pros and cons since I've already wittered on for pages! After all of the highs and lows it's still the greatest thing I've experienced. Watching a contempt milk drowsy (boob or bottle it doesn't matter, despite what the critics say)baby suckle away till they fall asleep is the most beautiful, peaceful and pure bonding experience for a parent. I've always wanted to be a mum and breast feeding was important to me. It may not be everyone's desire and others may think less of me that this was so important or that it tops getting a degree or masters but everyone is different and those judgmental trolls can just walk straight out of the door out of my life. I may have skipped showering for days, or gone out in clothes covered in spit up and boob leak, but my baby was healthy and happy and that was my priority. Whatever your priorities as a mother, feeding or anything else for that matter, focus in on that with laser accuracy, Don't let anyone tell you what you should do or how to be, your journey is fraught with self doubt and judgement so start ignoring the comments early on and thicken that skin for the school gate years and competitive mother syndrome (try as you might it will sneak up on you). Hopefully soon we'll all realise that we are each doing our best and maybe we should throw each other some positive encouragement rather than judging each others decisions. Sending all my love to the hard working mothers out there, you're doing a great job. Lots of love, Katie xxx The Birth It was 4am when I made it to the labour ward… They were booking me in, hooking me back up to the ?@’!**;/? monitors and going over my birth plan when I spotted the gas and air. In TV shows and films they make this big deal of the birth plan... by this stage I didn't give a damn, I just wanted to get this baby out. I was already in hospital and had gas and air, things were looking rosy compared to my stint in the ward!! The polite student (as I said they are everywhere) asked if I would like some. I nearly bit her arm clean off! Johnathan came running in at 4:20am white as a ghost and rather distressed, but I was so glad to see him and pretty impressed by how quickly he'd managed to get to the hospital. I was given an examination and would you believe it, I was still only 1cm, give me a break! They started getting me ready (undressing me and putting on my 'labour outfit' sexy) and hooked me up to an oxytocin drip, this was to open up my cervix and help things along. I was allowed back on my feet as long as I didn’t disturb the monitors and was given these ultra sexy crepe pants with about 3 maternity pads in them to wear to catch my waters, correction, the meconium! I was cursing my mother who said that babies get quiet before labour… well not Florence. I was watching the monitor so that I could try to predict when a contraction was coming so that I could take the gas and air before it came. This did not work, it felt like the machine was lagging. My mum was on hand, in her usual commanding way, telling me when to start the gas and air. The midwife then heard us and pointed out that the machine was in fact running behind and that what we were doing would not work, cheers for that! Well, we would try to be smart arses about it. I eventually managed to work off my baby’s movements, before every contraction she started wriggling like mad, so when she went bananas I knew something was coming. One contraction and kicking medley was so bad that all I could do was shake and cry, it felt like it lasted for minutes, it was about 1 and a half, and Johnathan just rubbed my back as I doubled over and the midwife fought with me to keep the monitor in place. I couldn’t move for disturbing the monitors and getting tangled in wires, and the pain was just too great so I took morphine and later an epidural. In my birth plan, and throughout my pregnancy I was hoping to deliver as naturally as possible using only gas and air if I could. But being induced and going from no contractions to full on labour was too severe and it was in the babies best interest for me to take it. It wasn't a decision I took lightly, but labour is full of surprises and you have to roll with the punches. I then proceeded to lie on my large ass, sucking in gas and air and mouthing off like a trooper, for 12 hours!!! I really wish I could remember some of what I was yammering on about, as I’m almost certain it was comedy gold (at least it was to me). At 4pm it was time for the big push. Due to the meconium situation I had to be constantly monitored by paediatricians, so one came in to make sure I was safe to begin. She was concerned by the volume of meconium coming out of me and thought the baby may be breach, I was still far too high to deal with this but Johnathan could not hide the fear in his eyes. She gloved up and off she went ready to exam, I must say, when you are hugely dilated it’s not all together to unsettling to have a persons entire forearm inside of you. Luckily she was head down and turning ready to come out. Holy hell, the push was agony. I still feel to this day that lying on your back is the worst way to push out a baby!! I could not get the hang of how she wanted me to breathe; I was all over the place. Apparently you’ve to hold the breath in as you push…. This somewhat simple instruction seemed to elude me for a good 10 pushes. After putting too much weight on TV programmes I was very distressed after 10 whole minutes of pushing to not have a baby! The minutes went by and the screams continued, I thought it was never going to end. Johnathan was away down the business end getting stuck in to coaching me, once a PT always a PT. He was oh so helpful and encouraging, letting me know the exact progress down the birth canal “ooh it’s coming Kate it’s coming, oh no it’s just gone back up. Oh it’s coming again, keep going. Argh, it keeps going back. Can’t you hold it or something”. With what, with my retractable vaginal claws (rolls eyes). I got excited every time the midwives put on their gloves, I thought “this is it”, and then as soon as they came off I felt a small part of me give in. I cannot even begin to tell you how disheartening this was, and how many times it happened (I’d definitely say more than 10). Eventually I was adamant that the baby’s head was out, so much so that I was asking why no one was grabbing the head. The midwife thought I would benefit from being able to feel that the baby was crowning, I was most definitely not… CROWNING?! I thought she was half out. Also, feeling a large hairy thing is coming out of you is both wonderful and a little gross. I remember feeling so deflated that I was asking if it wasn't too late for a section. I was kindly reminded that the baby was IN the pelvis at this stage, to which I replied "have you not seen saw where she gets her ribs pulled open? Just do that to my pelvis, I'm totally ok with that!". When my mum eventually lost patience and the paediatrician threatened the ventouse I gave it every ounce of strength I had. Lying to one side, legs in stirrups, pulling at my knees and clenching every muscle in my body. Finally I felt her head come out…. and oh my the rest of the body just falls out, it’s relieving and distressing all at the same time. I took a few huge breathes and just cried with relief and exhaustion. I saw them move the baby over to the table to be examined . Johnathan remembers slightly different events, to him it was a lifetime before she cried but I heard her so quickly. She was checked by paediatricians while I had my afterbirth and got stitched back up, I had my baby, my beautiful, chunky, screaming baby. I looked over to see her and must admit, she was a lot larger than I had anticipated. After Johnathan cut the cord they brought over my beautiful baby girl. In that instant at 18:11 on the 20th of May I fell completely in love, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. Now I must stress that after talking to plenty of mums this isn't a general consensus. I know there that everyone feels something completely different when they hold their baby for he very first time. For me, my whole world felt complete, in that moment everything was perfect. Now I want to add a note here as I know some mothers and expectant mothers will be reading this... The way I felt is not the same for plenty of mothers, some are terrified or in shock. Whatever you feel I think the most important thing to do is embrace it, it's such a special thing to have a baby and whatever goes through your mind and body is completely unique to you. After that moment your whole life is flipped on it's head, your life is no longer all about you. It's about your baby, and in today's society people are so quick to judge mothers on every aspect of their child rearing skills. So embrace that peace and all of those emotions and feel whatever you want to feel. A mothers bond and instinct is the most powerful thing I have experienced. It may not be love at first sight, you may love your baby more and more as the days, weeks and months fly by. But embrace it in all its glory, childbirth is the most demanding thing our bodies go through so sit back and pat yourself on the back for what you achieved for your family. Get a little self absorbed, you deserve it :-). I wouldn’t say I agree with what people say about forgetting the pain of labour. The memory is definitely getting more foggy as time goes by, but to hold your baby makes every single pain and irritation worth it. It's the easiest but most difficult, selfless and rewarding experience I have ever had. And I hope I get to do it all over again. Lots of love Kate (and Florence) xxx We were to check in at 2pm, so obviously I was there, on the dot. There was no way I wasn’t going to be first there, as I saw it, it was first come first serve and I wanted my baby!
We were asked to wait in a tv lounge area, I wasn’t given a bed until 2:45pm and I was irate!! I was then shown to a room with two other women, who were both quite lovely. One was not local and had started going in to early labour so she was being kept in to keep her baby in. And the other had gestational diabetes so she was in periodically to be monitored. I was examined, hooked up to monitors and given my first progesterone tablet at 3pm. I was still only 1 lousy cm dilated; I was hoping that this pill would part my cervix like Moses did the red sea! My mother and Johnathan sat with me for a while hoping I could come off the monitors…. This was unfortunately not something that baby was willing to let happen. We couldn’t get a 20-minute reading where she wasn’t bouncing off the walls of my uterus. Unfortunately the huge baby resting on my bladder meant that I eventually needed to pee and I was told it would be easier to keep the monitors on, bollocks. I had nothing on from the waist down and had 2 big elastic straps around my bump monitoring movement and heartbeat, then at least 4 leads coming off those, to my recollection it was more like 8 but I know that is probably untrue, that plugged in to the monitor. I grabbed the sheet off the bed to put around myself and tried to slink off into the bathroom holding the sheet and the wires and trying to stop them falling. The sheet kept falling off so I was mooning my fellow ward mates, I nearly dropped the wires in the toilet and one of the straps came undone! I felt like I had an octopus attached to my stomach, and one with an opinion. When I was getting hooked back up Johnathan and mum went off to M&S to get me culinary provisions as I could be in for the long haul and hospital food isn’t exactly hyper palatable!! Alas when they returned I was still hooked up. I couldn’t wait to eat, as I was too nervous to eat in the morning so the hunger pangs were in full swing. The food (a delightful white chocolate and creme patissiere eton mess in particular) just sent baby into a tailspin and I ended up being hooked up to the monitors for 5 and a half hours!! They were only just off before they went back on!! Eventually J and my mother had to leave, definitely one of the downsides of being induced. I was given another exam at 11pm. Being pregnant you notice a few things; one is that no one truly cares about how you are suffering as long as the baby is ok. That’s right, your life is no longer about you! Another is that there is always a student on hand, ALWAYS. Now, I am all for students having a bash, it’s the only way for them to learn, so of course I let them dive in. And dive in she did, yet again, elbow deep in search of my cervix and being guided by another midwife. I had been getting regular but faint contractions and the midwife thought my traces looked good so was hoping that I had progressed at least a little. I could see the worried face and desperate looks that the student was giving the midwife so I figured either she managed as well as Johnathan or nothing had happened. She didn’t feel confident in her assessment so the midwife took over. Obviously I was just pleased as punch to hear the midwife confirm and support the student in acknowledging that absolutely fudge all had progressed with me. She rammed another tablet up there and told me to get some sleep as I was probably in for a long stay. OH JOY. Safe to say I couldn’t sleep, I bounced about on my ball and tried to read to take my mind off things. The girls in the ward went off to sleep and I sat in the dark and tried not to wake them, I know how hard it is to get a decent sleep when you’re pregnant. I could feel my insides start to tangle, I felt like a balloon animal, and spent an inordinate amount of time in the toilet (In the dark as I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to turn on the damn light). At 1am the contractions really ramped up a notch, it was like going from being tickled to being kicked in the stomach. I was doubled over hoping that it was having some effect, holding my hips and breathing heavily. I was terrified of waking my ward mates so I went off to the common room to moan and walk and squirm. Eventually I buckled and went to the nurses at around 2am and said that I was getting painful contractions and asked what to do. The overwhelming consensus was that I should take pain relief. Now, I am no easy way out type of gal, I hate having to take painkillers unless totally necessary and I wanted to try to make it through the birth as sober as possible. My requests were not well received I must say, I vividly remember being told “oh, you’re one of those”, how charming!! The midwife who had examined me told me that my contractions were most likely false and that I’d probably be waiting till my next check in another 8 hours as the progesterone didn’t appear to be making much difference. In cases like mine I would receive another pill at 7 or 8am and then if that didn’t work I’d have to wait 24hours and then if a doctor cleared me, I’d have one more pill before they looked at other means. It was Thursday night, by these standards I would be in until Sunday. After being made to feel like a princess, seeing 2 others take some drugs and believing I was in it for the long haul I took the pain relief and was told to try and rest. It worked like a charm, at making me extremely nauseous, but doing sod all for my ever mounting pain. I held out in the room for another hour in the pitch black, contracting for a minute every 5 minutes. I went out for a walk and then said that I was really, truly sore. The midwife ran me a bath, a hot bath!! After months of Johnathan giving me 20 degree baths I couldn’t wait for a skin scolding bath. I got in and immediately had a contraction, which didn’t seem altogether too bad, I had a few more but they started to sting, the heat was not my savior. I tried to lie back and relax; I felt something happen and squeezed my pelvic floor. I crossed my fingers that it would be my waters and looked down… to my horror a murky substance rose up in the bath. I flew out of there faster than I have ever moved in my life. I drained the water and cleaned the bath, horrified!! I had no idea what to do, I ran out of the bathroom, got dressed and put a towel in, well, you know where. I messaged Johnathan and paced in a panic, I stayed upright and kept squeezing to make sure that what happened came from where I thought it came from. Surely all of your functions go after the baby and not before?!! I went to the toilet and squeezed, hallelujah! I was not incontinent, I had not crapped in a bath, and I had successfully navigated my way back out of the most embarrassing moment in my life. But then horror set in, meconium in my water, which can mean fetal distress. I went straight to the midwives desk and told them what had happened and handed her the towel, she asked if I had kept the bath water (was she serious!!!!!). They took me back to my bed and hooked me straight back up, like a whale, on my back. It is possibly the worst position to be in when having a contraction. Which FYI feel like the worst period pain you can imagine, but instead of the cramp being confined to the pelvic area it stretches all the way to your armpits! The paediatricians came back pretty quick and confirmed that it was meconium and said I was going straight downstairs. I told Johnathan what had happened and then my bag was taken by the midwife and I was put in a wheelchair. Off we went to the labour ward, I was terrified. I couldn’t get my phone to let J know I was ok and I was going to give birth, to push a huge thing out of a tiny hole. I was so excited but I immediately felt horribly unprepared, why didn’t I shovel some chocolate into my face before the paediatricians came?! I will add a warning at this point…. If you are squeamish or if you do not want to know the details of labour then do not read on. For some reason when I was on my quest for labour details no one was properly coughing up the information I was after, I am not sure why, maybe it’s an unspoken rule between mothers to prevent scaring other women off having children. But for whatever reason I wasn’t given the memo. So you lucky lot are going to get a walk through all of my labour joys! The lead up… My little cherub wasn’t for coming out, I used to joke that the stork was not going to visit our house, as it was afraid that my husband would eat it! So I, like many, had the long 2 week wait post due date for my induction. It was the most agonising wait of my life!! I vividly remember when my due date rolled around; I spent the whole day sitting staring at my bump waiting for fireworks. Any twitch or cramp and I would freeze on the spot ready to go, but alas, no baby. Plenty of pathetically weak Braxton hicks but unfortunately that was where it ended.
All that ran through my head was a repeating stream of “If I can’t handle a smear then I’ll never manage labour, why is my body not ready, will my body ever be ready, am I designed for this and what if I’m not made to give birth”. It was a really dark day. After a lot of talking to my mother, my nanny and other ladies about their sweeps I started to come back down to earth. The midwife told me that I still had a long way to go, but a small part of me was hoping something would happen. The next week went very slowly, the daily messages poured in asking if there was any sign of a baby, my hope of going into labour naturally started to dwindle. I spent all day and most of the night on my ball, bouncing my hips into early arthritis. Johnathan came home from work every day frustrated by being asked about the baby but having no news to give (we would joke and say why do they ask, surely if he was in work then there was no baby?! Johnathan would say “yes she in labour just now, I just thought I’d come in today anyway!!” I know it’s human nature to ask but it is rather funny when you think about it). So after a painful week of tirelessly trying every labour inducing remedy known to man including eating whole pineapples, curries, a glass of wine, raspberry leaf tea, walking for miles, bumpy car journeys and the most practical fornication known to man. My poor husband really took one for the team on this occasion. There I am, hot, bothered, immobile and the size of a seal.
This beautiful mating ritual was then followed by me falling asleep on my forearms and knees with my naked hindquarters up in the air!! Luckily Johnathan discovered me in my extremely lady like state and threw a blanked over the full moon. It was time for my next midwife appointment…. T + 8 days, it was 25 degrees daily and I was over it. So, time for another sweep. I must say, this time it was far better! My cervix was still not quite right but I was one cm dilated and I felt on top of the world. I would take any improvement on my former performance at this stage. I had 3 days left until I was due to be induced and I was crossing my fingers for any progress. The midwife got properly stuck in so I was hoping that rumble was enough to encourage my waters to break, I must add that during all of these probes and prods Florence was completely undeterred. From the first time we heard her heartbeat it has been rhythmically thumping away, she was a happy baby right from the start. On the Tuesday morning I woke up and went to the bathroom and noticed a horrible slime, to put it mildly, I looked in the toilet before flushing ( a common practice in pregnancy) and saw what can only be described as oyster like, my mucus plug. I immediately phoned Johnathan (who thought I had caught it and kept it to show him… yuk), I was over the moon, something was finally happening! I toddled down to his work to see him while he had his lunch.
The Braxton hicks started again and were fairly regular but never at regular intervals or growing in strength which was soul shatteringly upsetting!! I was told to do side lunges to wiggle the baby over a bit as she was a little off course, so any chance I had I was lunging, in the supermarket, out with the dogs, you name it!
Although I didn’t want to be induced and pretty much hated every minute of it I must say that it had some perks…. I was able to put on some make up for going into labour and make myself feel human. I also knew that this time when I went in to hospital I was not coming out until I had a baby!!
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AuthorKatie Pugh - Wife, Mother, Product Manager, Aspiring Chef, Overachiever ArchivesCategories |