It’s all here. Adventures in extreme knitting, the house of poop, and suburban permaculture. You may also find rants about politics, ecology, humanitarianism, responsible living, toe floss, and other topics not covered here. Expect profanity and irreverence. You have been warned.
Inigo smiled today!
I spent most of the day trying not to cry in pain, and trying to stay positive while still having problems breastfeeding, but the smiles made up for everything.
And then mum watched the boy while Mark and I went out for dinner. Life would be pretty good if I could feed my baby without pain…
Inigo with Aunty Emily, my great aunt.
Inigo is screaming, and I have locked myself in the study to blog. He screamed for two hours this afternoon, and I can’t take it any more. It could be just that he is six weeks old (unexplained crying is said to peak at six weeks), or it could be reflux – we’re trying a different medication, but he refuses to swallow.
Apparently it’s not parental incompetence. I’ve been to see the baby health centre nurse today, and he is now 4.1kg – he has put on just over one kilo since he was born. The nurse watched me feed him and checked that I have the correct technique, which I do. There is a problem, but it warrants further investigation, and she is going to do a home visit next wednesday. In the meantime, I just have to carry on as I have been, and soldier on through the pain. Knowing that he is doing well is great, but the screaming and the pain are intense, and I am living a very intense life. But if you can’t be a good example, be a horrible warning…
Inigo in his swing, wearing the latest in Modern cloth nappies from TheoreticGal
He’s not smiling yet (for me anyway), but I am looking forward to some positive feedback. I worship his stinky little butt and his furry little shoulders, his full body yawns and his adoring gaze, but a smile would be nice.
Inigo having a bath with Nanna (my mum)
I have a picture of me being bathed by my nanna in the kitchen sink. I’ll have to dig it up to put beside this in his baby book.
Inigo and Mark on the play mat
Life isn’t all poop and screaming – there is some really good stuff too
P.S. Mark was with Inigo last night – I didn’t leave him to scream alone!
That seems to be the answer to most questions I get asked these days, and I get asked a lot of questions.
Massive post today, because Mark is home and has taken the baby for a little while, and I have some uninterrupted time at the computer.
The boy seems to be doing really well, he has put on another 460gm in the last 2 weeks, so he is now just under 4kg. Swim nappies don’t seem to come in sizes under 4kg, so that is a milestone I am looking forward to reaching so that we can start swimming lessons.
As Inigo becomes more alert, he also seems to be becoming more needy, and I seem to have less and less time to do the things I need to do. I’m doing a minimum of two loads of washing a day now (I really can’t believe how much laundry a baby can generate – sorry about the cliché), and even taking a few minutes to hang it on the line can often be more than he can tolerate. He’ll sleep peacefully for hours as long as I am hovering over him, but he wakes up screaming if I move more than a few feet away. Baby radar. Amazing.
I can’t really think of anything to say about the experience of being a mother that hasn’t already been said, and far more eloquently than I could ever say it. One thing I will say is that I adore him, and that really does go a long way towards making the insomnia and exhaustion worth it. Before he was born I was concerned about two things – that I wouldn’t “bond” with him, and that he would cry incessantly and drive me to drink. Frankly, no-one would believe that the baby was to blame for my alcoholism, but you get the idea.
So far, both of these fears have proved groundless. My first look at him left me cold – but he was covered in poo and had a yellow acrylic beanie on his head. And I was still vomiting at the time, so I can hardly be blamed for not falling instantaneously in love. After a few hours in the recovery room, I was wheeled up to see him and allowed to spend some time touching him. I was still paralysed from the boobs down, and on a hospital trolley, and he was facing away from me, but it was important that Mark and I had some time on our own with him. I was pretty much brain dead after what I had been through, and softly stroking my baby’s arm was an amazing experience.
Since I couldn’t walk around, the midwives took a picture of him for me, and printed it on the office laser printer, so that I had a picture of him that I could look at through the night. Mark stuck it up under the clock so I could see it without turning my head. That picture was incredibly helpful in getting through that first night.
It was a few days before it really sunk in to me just how sick he was. For the first few days I was thinking that we would be out of hospital in just a few days, but by monday I realised that we were lucky to even be at Hornsby Hospital – if I hadn’t trusted my instincts and gone in to hospital when I did, then we might have been in a very different situation. Hornsby doesn’t have a “real” intensive care unit for newborns, just an emergency transfer room for babies that need to be taken to a hospital that does. That is where Inigo was taken as soon as he was born, and luckily the decision was made that he could be cared for there instead of being transferred.
I am still pretty much in shock about the birth experience. I had thought I was ok about having the surgery, and very happy that Inigo was born as healthy as he was because of the choices that the doctors made. But a little part of me still feels like I have been run over by a freight train, and I think it is realistic to acknowledge that I am going to feel like that for a little while.
As for the crying, I read a book called “The Happiest Baby on the Block” (thanks for the loan Karen!), and also bought the DVD. Highly recommended – it gave me the confidence to deal with Inigo’s crying, rather than let it turn me into a quivering mess. He still cries, but 50% of the time I can either identify the reason and rectify the problem, and 40% of the time he is just “having a whinge”, and the DVD gave me tips for managing it that work to calm him very quickly. About 10% of the time he just cries, and I can’t seem to help, but a big fart or a omit will usually make him happy again.
He is vomiting rather a lot, and we are going to see another paediatrician for a second opinion about the treatment. THe first doctor gave us pills to crush up and syringe to him, but they had an enteric coating, and seemed to make him as unhappy as the vomiting.
Was going to add some pictures and links, but the baby is crying – anon!
Duke & Desiah left us recently, and I offered to put up a tribute page so that their mum, Erin, had somewhere on the web to memorialise her babies.
So here you go Erin, I hope you like it.
Love, Lara
PS. In Lara news, I managed to do this while rocking the baby in the pram with one foot. If I get good at that, I might be able to catch up on email, and blogs soon – and maybe even put up a progress post about us. In the meantime, we visited the baby health centre today, Inigo is 3.36kg – which means he has put on 280 grams in one week. Three weeks old today!
We’re all fine, but we took a trip to Casualty at Westmead Children’s Hospital today, as we couldn’t find a medical center that was open, and we thought we’d better get the boy looked at.
At hospital, they told us to clean his umbilical cord stump daily, and to see a doctor if it looked weepy, or started to smell. With all the excitement, we forgot to clean it on friday, and by saturday it didn’t look as good as it had. Today it looked even worse, and had started to smell.
Apparently, it’s all good. We’ve been given saline to clean it, but with his breathing issues, his little body has been concentrating on healing his lungs, rather than healing the belly button. We can expect that his cord will take up to an extra week to drop off than a “normal” baby.
On the upside, we now have a medical records number at Westmead, we know how to get there, and we know we can get the kid to hospital within 15 minutes of noticing something awry. And apparently, they aren’t going to report us to DOCS for child neglect. Yet…
And last night, we got 2 periods of sleep that lasted for 3 hours or more. The kid is gorgeous.
Another night with not much sleep, Inigo likes to sleep for an hour after a night feed, then wake 2-3 times in the next hour, then refuse to sleep for the third hour unless one of us is holding him. We have taken it in turns to do the settling after a feed, so we are both getting some sleep.
This morning, the 7am feed was followed by a bath, so not enough sleep was had before the 11am feed. When he was still awake at 1pm after the 11am feed, Mark and I turned to disco music. The two of us sang him a duet of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”, and he is out like a light.
What a great kid.
And in other news, Ella Grace Hodgkiss arrived last night just after 3am. No other details yet, but Bev & Ted will be here shortly to tell us all about our newest family member, and how her mum is doing.
Best friends?
Exciting as it was to get home, I was still aching for a taste of the outside world, so after a night of almost 4 hours between feeds, and at least 4 hours sleep, we decided to visit Richard, Miriam, and Oscar.
Still too tired to talk in complete sentences, but congratulations to Simone and Andrew, who settled on their new house today, happy birthday to Andrew, and please keep everything crossed for my sister in law Christine – who might be in labour as we speak. Another cousin for Inigo!
And while he’s sleeping then so are we….
ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…………………..
Inigo is off all machines, and has had two successful feeds. I have been moved again, and am downstairs in the children’s ward, where there are sick people, so Inigo has to stay in the nursery.
I am going to try to get some sleep in preparation for my first night of round the clock feeding, Mark has our boy sleeping on his chest upstairs, and I will be called when he needs me.
Thank you everyone for your well wishes, and words of encouragement. It’s working 🙂
We tried breastfeeding again today, and had a much better experience – not there yet, but better. I also had a chance to talk to the midwife that I saw for most of my ante natal visits, she validated everything I was feeling, and encouraged me to go back to the nursery and touch him as much as I like. It’s been a tough 24 hours, but I look forward to every day getting better from now on. Also spoken to the social worker, who says that I am going better than could be expected for somebody who has so much to deal with.
I have been doing pretty well with expressing, this morning I got 70mls, which everyone seems impressed with. Of course I have no idea about what should and shouldn’t be happening, but I overheard one of the doctors saying today that a c section interferes with normal hormone production, and therefore can delay and reduce milk production. Apparently I am very lucky, and supply is not an issue, only demand 🙂 We’ll get there!
The boy is looking delightful – he has been fed breastmilk through a naso gastric tube, about 2mls every hour, and it seems to have improved his skin tone and colour. It’s an almost imperceptible change, and I may be imagining it, but it does make me feel better that he is able to eat, and I am able to provide for him in some small way. It may not be the way he’s supposed to get it, but it’s the best we can have for now, and I am grateful.
Mum had a meeting at the hospital and has spoken to Inigo’s paediatrician – apparently they are hoping to let us go home on the weekend. That is the first official word on timing I have had, and am trying not to get too excited, but the idea that I might be able to see my son without wires, and being able to cuddle him so soon is almost too much to hope for.
Anna Gibson visited again today, and we had such a lovely chat, I am now feeling fortified and ready to deal with whatever tomorrow may bring for our little family. All good things I hope.
Disco Knitter 