For the very first time, our daughter is ill. It's nothing serious, just an eye infection, but it's really brought home to us how lucky we've been with her health.
Our friends R&A, whose son B is 8 weeks younger than our daughter, have had a couple of incidences of colds and sniffles. Nothing serious again, but the added exhaustion it has seemed to bring is something that N & I are quite glad to do without!
The downside of our daughter's infection is the treatment. She has to have cream in her eyes twice a day. Unfortunately, she doesn't want cream in her eyes twice a day. On the contrary, she wants Mummy to go away and stop poking her with the gunky tube! It took me a good 10 minutes and at least 6 applications of cream to treat both of her eyes this morning. Once I had wiped it off her hands, her eyelids, her nose, her t-shirt, my hands, and the sides of the tube she was quite happy! Luckily this evening I will have N to help me, and from tomorrow it will be the childminder's problem (phew!).
Other than the slightly itchy eyes, she is doing very well, and is scooting around the house at top speed, trying to climb on every piece of furniture that we own. As she's infectious, I'm having an unexpected day off work today, and am planning on making the most of our precious time together (although I don't think the cats are too impressed with the sudden invasion).
As a final note, when we saw the Health Visitor a couple of weeks ago, she told us that she thought our daughter would be walking within a month - aargh! I think this will open up whole new worlds of joy and pain - I can't wait!
26 March 2007
25 March 2007
New friends
Earlier this year, N & I had an interesting night out. We met up with people from an internet message board we both post on. There were quite a number of people there - a respectable turnout - and amongst those were a couple of people we really hoped to meet.
There are 2 people that N plays online football with that he really hoped he'd get on with in real life as much as he does online, and he wasn't disappointed. As an added bonus, one of the guys brought his other half, and the four of us got on like a house on fire.
After a drunken night out (daughterless of course!), we arranged to meet up again and Saturday night was the night. A and his girlfriend C came to us for dinner so we didn't have to worry about babysitters etc and it was one of those evenings where the conversation just flows and everything is easy. We nattered away, played board games, argued over the rules etc - it was fab.
What's even weirder is that we have discovered that C and I were at school together - she was in my sister's year! Bizarre! We're both trying to dig out the old school photos so that we can compare notes...
N & I are normally so shy it's hard to make new friends but this relationship seems to have just fallen into place at the moment. I hope it's one we can build on - but we're going to need a lot more board games! :-D
There are 2 people that N plays online football with that he really hoped he'd get on with in real life as much as he does online, and he wasn't disappointed. As an added bonus, one of the guys brought his other half, and the four of us got on like a house on fire.
After a drunken night out (daughterless of course!), we arranged to meet up again and Saturday night was the night. A and his girlfriend C came to us for dinner so we didn't have to worry about babysitters etc and it was one of those evenings where the conversation just flows and everything is easy. We nattered away, played board games, argued over the rules etc - it was fab.
What's even weirder is that we have discovered that C and I were at school together - she was in my sister's year! Bizarre! We're both trying to dig out the old school photos so that we can compare notes...
N & I are normally so shy it's hard to make new friends but this relationship seems to have just fallen into place at the moment. I hope it's one we can build on - but we're going to need a lot more board games! :-D
14 March 2007
Togetherness - Part II
After my daughter's swimming lesson is over, we get dried and dressed, and I take her back to the childminders and then head on to work.
On my route, as on every other day, I pass an old people's residential home. This one is special to me however, as my grandmother now lives there, and has done for the past 4 months. Tuesday mornings are even more special, as when I pass I can see my grandfather's car parked outside, visiting the woman he's loved for the last 66 years and who he has been married to for the last 60 years.
It's nice that they are still able to spend time together even though my grandfather can no longer care for my grandmother. I'm not sure if they can appreciate it though; my grandmother is dying, there is no doubt and the only question now is how long it will be.
My grandmother is very sick. As I posted last year, she had a major stroke and has never recovered. Towards the end of last year she got worse and worse and now it seems that she was (and possibly still is) having minor bleeds in her brain that were effectively enhancing the effects of the stroke.
She was in hospital for the best part of 2 months, and during this time she was heavily medicated to stop her wandering around and disturbing people at night. The side-effect of the medication however was that she lost what little energy she had and lost her communication skills.
When she finally moved into the home, they were able to take her off the tablets and my mum and my grandfather noticed an improvement. Since then however it has been rapidly downhill; she is retaining water so has put on weight; she is refusing food and medication and she doesn't want to go on any longer.
Unfortunately she is otherwise very healthy, and so she is unlikely to die quickly. Because her mother died of a stroke in similar circumstances, all of our family know that this is the way of dying she feared the most. She can't communicate, she doesn't understand where she is, and she can't remember when my grandfather last visited her so she doesn't know if he's still visiting her unless he's actually sitting in front of her.
I haven't seen my grandmother in her home and neither has my sister or N. We have been told by our family not to visit as we should not have to remember my grandmother as she is now. It's now been 9 months since her stroke and 6 months since I saw her last. Essentially she is dead to me, but she is not dead. Were I to visit, she would know who I was. She has seen my daughter recently when my mum took her in, and she recognised her but even her adored great-grandchild did not provoke a reaction. She has had enough, and quite honestly, I don't blame her.
Dr Crippen has always been against medically-assisted suicide, or euthanasia or whatever you want to call it, and I can't blame him for it - he is a doctor and has sworn to preserve life. At the moment though, I can't help but think that both my grandparents are being torn apart because my grandmother is being forced to live through the most miserable and frightening way of dying she has ever imagined. She even told my grandfather, right at the start, that she was "looking at you the way Sally looked at you". She was referring to the time when their beloved dog fell ill and, after a few weeks, was in so much pain and fear that she wanted to stop. My grandfather took her to the vets and she was put to sleep.
I know that neither of my grandparents would wish anyone to jeopardise their career, their morals or their freedom to help my grandmother, but I am certain that, had the law been different, my grandmother would have had no hesitation in saying "if I have a stroke, I don't want to be kept alive at all costs; if I cannot communicate I don't want to be here". Everything she has expressed since her stroke has confirmed everything she said before it. Sometimes being together is not for the best.
On my route, as on every other day, I pass an old people's residential home. This one is special to me however, as my grandmother now lives there, and has done for the past 4 months. Tuesday mornings are even more special, as when I pass I can see my grandfather's car parked outside, visiting the woman he's loved for the last 66 years and who he has been married to for the last 60 years.
It's nice that they are still able to spend time together even though my grandfather can no longer care for my grandmother. I'm not sure if they can appreciate it though; my grandmother is dying, there is no doubt and the only question now is how long it will be.
My grandmother is very sick. As I posted last year, she had a major stroke and has never recovered. Towards the end of last year she got worse and worse and now it seems that she was (and possibly still is) having minor bleeds in her brain that were effectively enhancing the effects of the stroke.
She was in hospital for the best part of 2 months, and during this time she was heavily medicated to stop her wandering around and disturbing people at night. The side-effect of the medication however was that she lost what little energy she had and lost her communication skills.
When she finally moved into the home, they were able to take her off the tablets and my mum and my grandfather noticed an improvement. Since then however it has been rapidly downhill; she is retaining water so has put on weight; she is refusing food and medication and she doesn't want to go on any longer.
Unfortunately she is otherwise very healthy, and so she is unlikely to die quickly. Because her mother died of a stroke in similar circumstances, all of our family know that this is the way of dying she feared the most. She can't communicate, she doesn't understand where she is, and she can't remember when my grandfather last visited her so she doesn't know if he's still visiting her unless he's actually sitting in front of her.
I haven't seen my grandmother in her home and neither has my sister or N. We have been told by our family not to visit as we should not have to remember my grandmother as she is now. It's now been 9 months since her stroke and 6 months since I saw her last. Essentially she is dead to me, but she is not dead. Were I to visit, she would know who I was. She has seen my daughter recently when my mum took her in, and she recognised her but even her adored great-grandchild did not provoke a reaction. She has had enough, and quite honestly, I don't blame her.
Dr Crippen has always been against medically-assisted suicide, or euthanasia or whatever you want to call it, and I can't blame him for it - he is a doctor and has sworn to preserve life. At the moment though, I can't help but think that both my grandparents are being torn apart because my grandmother is being forced to live through the most miserable and frightening way of dying she has ever imagined. She even told my grandfather, right at the start, that she was "looking at you the way Sally looked at you". She was referring to the time when their beloved dog fell ill and, after a few weeks, was in so much pain and fear that she wanted to stop. My grandfather took her to the vets and she was put to sleep.
I know that neither of my grandparents would wish anyone to jeopardise their career, their morals or their freedom to help my grandmother, but I am certain that, had the law been different, my grandmother would have had no hesitation in saying "if I have a stroke, I don't want to be kept alive at all costs; if I cannot communicate I don't want to be here". Everything she has expressed since her stroke has confirmed everything she said before it. Sometimes being together is not for the best.
Togetherness - Part I
I am very fortunate in that my employers have permitted me to work some flexi-time into my contract, so that on a Tuesday morning I can continue to take my daughter swimming. It's a real bonus for me; I love spending the extra couple of hours with her, and she adores going in the water (as long as it's not too cold!)
Each week we go down to the leisure centre and as soon as we arrive in the car park she recognises where we are and starts to get excited. We go downstairs to the changing rooms and she waves her arms and legs around; she can't wait to get into the water! Once I'm ready and she's in her swimmies, we go through the door to the side of the baby pool. I hang up her towel and we go down the steps into the water. I sit her on my knee and almost immediately have to restrain her to stop her flinging herself face-first into the water! I'm still not quite sure if she's trying to crawl on it, trying to grab hold of it or just trying to put it in her mouth...
The lessons mainly consist of lots of women shuffling around the swimming pool in a variety of crouching positions whilst towing a child who may or may not wish to be there and making encouraging noises along the lines of "Kick! Kick! Kick! That's a good girl!" "Come on darling, arms out, there's a good boy!" and other essentially meaningless phrases (meaningless as none of the children is over 10 or 11 months old!)
Our daughter loves this experience however. She giggles at the teacher, reaches for the pool toys and adores licking the water! I, on the other hand, am not always so keen, as unlike her my role doesn't involve casually floating around while being towed about on the surface! No, my role involves balancing in a squat position whilst towing a small child across a shallow pool - not exactly relaxing! But a good workout, and I love watching her enjoy herself and being able to spend the time with her.
Each week we go down to the leisure centre and as soon as we arrive in the car park she recognises where we are and starts to get excited. We go downstairs to the changing rooms and she waves her arms and legs around; she can't wait to get into the water! Once I'm ready and she's in her swimmies, we go through the door to the side of the baby pool. I hang up her towel and we go down the steps into the water. I sit her on my knee and almost immediately have to restrain her to stop her flinging herself face-first into the water! I'm still not quite sure if she's trying to crawl on it, trying to grab hold of it or just trying to put it in her mouth...
The lessons mainly consist of lots of women shuffling around the swimming pool in a variety of crouching positions whilst towing a child who may or may not wish to be there and making encouraging noises along the lines of "Kick! Kick! Kick! That's a good girl!" "Come on darling, arms out, there's a good boy!" and other essentially meaningless phrases (meaningless as none of the children is over 10 or 11 months old!)
Our daughter loves this experience however. She giggles at the teacher, reaches for the pool toys and adores licking the water! I, on the other hand, am not always so keen, as unlike her my role doesn't involve casually floating around while being towed about on the surface! No, my role involves balancing in a squat position whilst towing a small child across a shallow pool - not exactly relaxing! But a good workout, and I love watching her enjoy herself and being able to spend the time with her.
10 March 2007
Eek!
Where has all of that time gone?! I can't believe I've been away quite so long; if there's anyone still there, sorry, and I should be back more regularly now (I hope).
One of the main reasons for my posting silence is that I have started work again. As I was made redundant before my daughter was born, I have had to find a new job as well as adjust to returning to work. Luckily for me, it all happened really quickly so I didn't have time to agonize over things that may or may not go wrong!
I was called by an agency on a Wednesday afternoon and told about a possible role. It sounded interesting, so I agreed they could put me forward. On Thursday they rang me frantically and told me the company wanted to see me asap. Friday I went for the interview, and before I left the building had been offered the job! Suddenly I had an urgent need for childcare....
Luckily, my local council run an excellent service and when I spoke to them, they were able to provide me with a list of every nursery and childminder between where I live and my new office that had a space for a child my daughter's age. N & I sat and whittled them down, and made a shortlist. Only 2 of them could possibly do the hours we needed, so we went to see them.
The first lady was very nice - similar age to us and had a lovely child, but something didn't feel right to us. The house felt - well, there's no accurate way of describing it really, apart from sterile; although there were toys and places to go and things to do, there was no personality in the house.
The second lady we met was a lot older. She had grown-up children and her house was full of photographs - family, friends, the children she'd looked after over the years - there were walls covered floor-to-ceiling in images from different times and places. Unlike the first childminder we saw, this lady couldn't wait to hold our daughter - she played with her, cuddled her, talked to her as though she was one of her own children. This was exactly what we hoped for!
N & I always knew that our ideal situation would be for one of us to stay at home and look after our children, but we also knew this was unlikely to realistically happen. Our second choice would be for a family member to do it, and a childminder or nursery was our third choice. Luckily, in this second lady, L, we had found someone who would treat our daughter as a member of her own family and therefore continue looking after our daughter in the same manner.
So, three weeks after being offered a job, I returned to work. I've been there for5 weeks now and am loving it. I thrive on the daily stimulation; I can't tell what each day will bring and the adult interaction is great. I miss my daughter more than I ever imagined. Being away from her breaks me in two, but it makes me appreciate her so much more, and I know that the time I am with her, she gets more from me because I am fully able to be myself.
One of the main reasons for my posting silence is that I have started work again. As I was made redundant before my daughter was born, I have had to find a new job as well as adjust to returning to work. Luckily for me, it all happened really quickly so I didn't have time to agonize over things that may or may not go wrong!
I was called by an agency on a Wednesday afternoon and told about a possible role. It sounded interesting, so I agreed they could put me forward. On Thursday they rang me frantically and told me the company wanted to see me asap. Friday I went for the interview, and before I left the building had been offered the job! Suddenly I had an urgent need for childcare....
Luckily, my local council run an excellent service and when I spoke to them, they were able to provide me with a list of every nursery and childminder between where I live and my new office that had a space for a child my daughter's age. N & I sat and whittled them down, and made a shortlist. Only 2 of them could possibly do the hours we needed, so we went to see them.
The first lady was very nice - similar age to us and had a lovely child, but something didn't feel right to us. The house felt - well, there's no accurate way of describing it really, apart from sterile; although there were toys and places to go and things to do, there was no personality in the house.
The second lady we met was a lot older. She had grown-up children and her house was full of photographs - family, friends, the children she'd looked after over the years - there were walls covered floor-to-ceiling in images from different times and places. Unlike the first childminder we saw, this lady couldn't wait to hold our daughter - she played with her, cuddled her, talked to her as though she was one of her own children. This was exactly what we hoped for!
N & I always knew that our ideal situation would be for one of us to stay at home and look after our children, but we also knew this was unlikely to realistically happen. Our second choice would be for a family member to do it, and a childminder or nursery was our third choice. Luckily, in this second lady, L, we had found someone who would treat our daughter as a member of her own family and therefore continue looking after our daughter in the same manner.
So, three weeks after being offered a job, I returned to work. I've been there for5 weeks now and am loving it. I thrive on the daily stimulation; I can't tell what each day will bring and the adult interaction is great. I miss my daughter more than I ever imagined. Being away from her breaks me in two, but it makes me appreciate her so much more, and I know that the time I am with her, she gets more from me because I am fully able to be myself.
30 December 2006
Normal Service will Resume Shortly...
Apologies for the HUGELY extended absence. I haven't gone away, just not had the time/energy to post. Will be back in the new year when things start to return to something resembling normality.
I hope you had a great Christmas and that 2007 brings happiness for you.
I hope you had a great Christmas and that 2007 brings happiness for you.
20 November 2006
Eating out
We went to visit some friends in Stockport last weekend. It was great to see them - they used to live down south near us but relocated about 18 months ago. They seem to have chilled out so much - the commute to work is easier and the house prices seem daft to N and me!
N has known S since secondary school and they're really close, so it was lovely to be able to ask him to be our daughter's godfather. I think he was pleased - we didn't really know how to ask him and so it was a bit abrupt. I'm glad he said yes, as he's a fantastic bloke and our daughter is already fascinated by him!
While we were there, we visited the Trafford Centre for a wander and some lunch and so we went to a restaurant (a well-known pizza chain). Now, the pram-cum-pushchair we have is not small, and the table they showed us to was in the middle of the restaurant. We had to leave it in the middle of the aisle, which really bothered me - more because I didn't want to annoy anyone else! We sat in the very crowded restaurant (Saturday lunchtime in a major shopping centre should give you an idea) and ordered our food, hoping that our daughter would behave.
About 10 minutes before our starters arrived, she started getting crotchety. Uh-oh. So we decided to bring out our first (and only!) weapon: lunch. Not having brought the high chair to the shopping centre (I know, I know, school-boy error) I held her on my lap and N fed her. Cold goop from a jar - not the nicest. We got halfway through the jar and the starters arived, and of course they were far more interesting to her than her own lunch! Some minor rearranging of the table to remove all cutlery and salad from reach and we managed to finish her food. N ate his starter while I gave our daughter her bottle and then he burped her while I ate.
The waiters were excellent - although a little over-zealous when it came to plate clearing. Obviously our friends finished eating before us, and so the waiters were trying desperately to clear our plates, and then getting confused that we hadn't finished. They later told us that this was their second day open, which explained their keenness (and the fact that there seemed to be one waiter for every two diners!).
Once we'd finished feeding our daughter and our starters the rest of the meal passed without incident (apart from our daughter pulling cute faces at everyone sitting nearby that is). We were so proud - and so relieved!
Every little achievement like this feels like such a milestone, and allows N & me to think that we will possibly be able to have a social life again. We have our friends from York visiting this weekend and possibly next week, so it will be interesting to see how much difference there is between our daughter and their son who is 8 weeks younger. Of course, me being such a big soppy softy, I also feel slightly sad that she's growing up so much. But not enough to want to go back to the early days of no sleep and all that screaming!
_________________________
Sorry that I've not been posting so regularly - life has been getting in the way again! I have a couple of posts floating in my mind at the moment, so I will try and commit them to screen in the next week if possible.
N has known S since secondary school and they're really close, so it was lovely to be able to ask him to be our daughter's godfather. I think he was pleased - we didn't really know how to ask him and so it was a bit abrupt. I'm glad he said yes, as he's a fantastic bloke and our daughter is already fascinated by him!
While we were there, we visited the Trafford Centre for a wander and some lunch and so we went to a restaurant (a well-known pizza chain). Now, the pram-cum-pushchair we have is not small, and the table they showed us to was in the middle of the restaurant. We had to leave it in the middle of the aisle, which really bothered me - more because I didn't want to annoy anyone else! We sat in the very crowded restaurant (Saturday lunchtime in a major shopping centre should give you an idea) and ordered our food, hoping that our daughter would behave.
About 10 minutes before our starters arrived, she started getting crotchety. Uh-oh. So we decided to bring out our first (and only!) weapon: lunch. Not having brought the high chair to the shopping centre (I know, I know, school-boy error) I held her on my lap and N fed her. Cold goop from a jar - not the nicest. We got halfway through the jar and the starters arived, and of course they were far more interesting to her than her own lunch! Some minor rearranging of the table to remove all cutlery and salad from reach and we managed to finish her food. N ate his starter while I gave our daughter her bottle and then he burped her while I ate.
The waiters were excellent - although a little over-zealous when it came to plate clearing. Obviously our friends finished eating before us, and so the waiters were trying desperately to clear our plates, and then getting confused that we hadn't finished. They later told us that this was their second day open, which explained their keenness (and the fact that there seemed to be one waiter for every two diners!).
Once we'd finished feeding our daughter and our starters the rest of the meal passed without incident (apart from our daughter pulling cute faces at everyone sitting nearby that is). We were so proud - and so relieved!
Every little achievement like this feels like such a milestone, and allows N & me to think that we will possibly be able to have a social life again. We have our friends from York visiting this weekend and possibly next week, so it will be interesting to see how much difference there is between our daughter and their son who is 8 weeks younger. Of course, me being such a big soppy softy, I also feel slightly sad that she's growing up so much. But not enough to want to go back to the early days of no sleep and all that screaming!
_________________________
Sorry that I've not been posting so regularly - life has been getting in the way again! I have a couple of posts floating in my mind at the moment, so I will try and commit them to screen in the next week if possible.
31 October 2006
Geekdom
A non-baby related post for a change, but something else that I love. I love playing games. I'm not talking about hide-and-seek and the like, but the lovely shiny digital variety on games consoles.
I got into gaming at university. It was the N64 era, when GoldenEye (the game of the film) was out. A flatmate of mine played and I was hooked. Even better, he had Mario Kart and I ended up playing several times a week (or at least whenever I could get a look in). I loved it so much that I convinced myself that what I really needed was a reward for all my hard work after my finals (yeah, right) and I bought my very first console.
It was great - how realistic they looked back then! (How bad they look now!) As I moved into my postgraduate year, gaming became an even bigger part of my life as I owned my first PC and was able to add PC gaming to the N64. Interestingly, there were 6 of us living together in my 4th year and it was the 2 girls who owned the games consoles (not that you'd have known from the time the boys spent on them).
I left uni and went to work, but I still loved video games. I was always looking forward to the new releases, and was very excited about the next generation of consoles.
Around this time I met N, appropriately enough, online. We were both hugely un-confident in social situations, but the internet let us be honest with each other in a way we would never have dared in real life. When we met, gaming was one of the few things we actually had (and indeed, have) in common. I enjoyed being taken seriously when I talked about games, and N loved having a girlfriend who was quite happy for him to geek it up! (I think he still quite likes that, actually :-) )
Video games consoles have moved on yet again since I first started playing and I'm still hooked. We still own one of every console (going back as far as the Dreamcast and the NES for those who know/care) and I'm really excited about the release of the new consoles and interested how the HD/Blu-Ray battle will go.
Channel Five's "Gadget Show" had exclusive access to the PS3 and the Wii, and seeing the reviewer, Jason, get as excited over the consoles as I feel was fantastic. He's written a full review here (although as I type this the link is down).
I'm most looking forward to the Wii - I love the idea and the innovation and most of all the attitude behind its development. I also think that Sony are shooting themselves in the foot by a) delaying PS3 launch in Europe and then b) charging £400 a pop. £400?!! Who are they kidding?! That's without the games, extra controllers, and the rip-off downloadable content that they have created (you won't be able to play some games fully without buying extras from them).
Nonetheless, I still love my gaming. I could post forever on its pros and cons, why Microsoft have won me round and why I secretly love the frustration of a difficult jump or challenging puzzle; but I won't. That kind of disussion is best after a good dinner and most of the way through a nice bottle of red. I am however intensely relieved (as I know is N) that our daughter's arrival hasn't stopped our gaming - who knows, maybe she'll join in one day - and I hope that N & I manage to keep gaming together well into our old age!
I got into gaming at university. It was the N64 era, when GoldenEye (the game of the film) was out. A flatmate of mine played and I was hooked. Even better, he had Mario Kart and I ended up playing several times a week (or at least whenever I could get a look in). I loved it so much that I convinced myself that what I really needed was a reward for all my hard work after my finals (yeah, right) and I bought my very first console.
It was great - how realistic they looked back then! (How bad they look now!) As I moved into my postgraduate year, gaming became an even bigger part of my life as I owned my first PC and was able to add PC gaming to the N64. Interestingly, there were 6 of us living together in my 4th year and it was the 2 girls who owned the games consoles (not that you'd have known from the time the boys spent on them).
I left uni and went to work, but I still loved video games. I was always looking forward to the new releases, and was very excited about the next generation of consoles.
Around this time I met N, appropriately enough, online. We were both hugely un-confident in social situations, but the internet let us be honest with each other in a way we would never have dared in real life. When we met, gaming was one of the few things we actually had (and indeed, have) in common. I enjoyed being taken seriously when I talked about games, and N loved having a girlfriend who was quite happy for him to geek it up! (I think he still quite likes that, actually :-) )
Video games consoles have moved on yet again since I first started playing and I'm still hooked. We still own one of every console (going back as far as the Dreamcast and the NES for those who know/care) and I'm really excited about the release of the new consoles and interested how the HD/Blu-Ray battle will go.
Channel Five's "Gadget Show" had exclusive access to the PS3 and the Wii, and seeing the reviewer, Jason, get as excited over the consoles as I feel was fantastic. He's written a full review here (although as I type this the link is down).
I'm most looking forward to the Wii - I love the idea and the innovation and most of all the attitude behind its development. I also think that Sony are shooting themselves in the foot by a) delaying PS3 launch in Europe and then b) charging £400 a pop. £400?!! Who are they kidding?! That's without the games, extra controllers, and the rip-off downloadable content that they have created (you won't be able to play some games fully without buying extras from them).
Nonetheless, I still love my gaming. I could post forever on its pros and cons, why Microsoft have won me round and why I secretly love the frustration of a difficult jump or challenging puzzle; but I won't. That kind of disussion is best after a good dinner and most of the way through a nice bottle of red. I am however intensely relieved (as I know is N) that our daughter's arrival hasn't stopped our gaming - who knows, maybe she'll join in one day - and I hope that N & I manage to keep gaming together well into our old age!
29 October 2006
On my own! And coping.
N went back to work two weeks ago. I thought about posting sooner, but decided that it would be a bad idea and not a particularly balanced account!
I was, as previously mentioned, terrified about it for several reasons. The main reason was that I was worried (and still am to a certain degree) that it would trigger the return of my depression. Having lived with it for over 5 years and only recently returned to what passes as normality for me, I am not eager to go back.
Unfortunately the first week didn't do much to alleviate that worry. The days alternated between good and bad. Monday was ok, Tuesday was awful, Wednesday was ok, Thursday was awful and Friday was only ok because I handed over to my Mum in the afternoon so that I could go to choir practice.
Not only was the baby unsettled by the change in getting up time and going to bed time, she clearly missed her Daddy (which didn't help her Mummy who also missed him greatly)! Obviously that was one thing I couldn't fix for her and of course made me feel as though all the work I was putting in was sub-standard and pointless. I knew that this was the depression creeping back which bothered me even more.
At the start of last week, I said to N that I couldn't get up with him and take him to the station. I was so exhausted that the 6am start for a 6.30 station run was taking away the last reerves of energy that I had. I felt incredibly guilty, as it means that N's journey in the morning is over 2 hours long (he works in Chichester, around 60 miles away from where we live).
The difference last week was amazing. Our daughter slept until 7.45 most days (hurrah!) and had at least one long nap in the day. To make things better, N has been able to agree a slightly shorter lunch break, meaning he can get an earlier train home. He's now home over half an hour earlier, which makes a huge difference, and means we have been able to reinstate our daughter's evening routine (play, bath, bottle, bed) to it's original time, which in turn has settled her more readily and meant that we get a slightly longer evening and don't feel like we only have time to eat and sleep.
My next challenge from here is to find something interesting to do. Due to some kind of (administrative?) oversight, we weren't invited to a post-natal class, so I have no-one to talk to, visit etc during the day. We have some other friends that we were regularly visiting, but they have recently had their second baby, so are somewhat occupied at the moment! I know I really should take our daughter swimming, but it seems complicated - mainly to do with getting myself prepared to show legs and swimsuit-line (never bikini-line; I wouldn't want to scare anyone!) in public.
I have found one thing to do helping out a local organisation with some basic admin, but it's home-work, so I won't be getting out, which is a shame. I would love to be able to go for a walk, but we live on a main road (think 1/3 of a mile from motorways) which runs in a very steep valley, so there isn't anywhere suitable. Oh to be by the sea again!
Ah well, I guess there's always another trip round Tesco... :-)
I was, as previously mentioned, terrified about it for several reasons. The main reason was that I was worried (and still am to a certain degree) that it would trigger the return of my depression. Having lived with it for over 5 years and only recently returned to what passes as normality for me, I am not eager to go back.
Unfortunately the first week didn't do much to alleviate that worry. The days alternated between good and bad. Monday was ok, Tuesday was awful, Wednesday was ok, Thursday was awful and Friday was only ok because I handed over to my Mum in the afternoon so that I could go to choir practice.
Not only was the baby unsettled by the change in getting up time and going to bed time, she clearly missed her Daddy (which didn't help her Mummy who also missed him greatly)! Obviously that was one thing I couldn't fix for her and of course made me feel as though all the work I was putting in was sub-standard and pointless. I knew that this was the depression creeping back which bothered me even more.
At the start of last week, I said to N that I couldn't get up with him and take him to the station. I was so exhausted that the 6am start for a 6.30 station run was taking away the last reerves of energy that I had. I felt incredibly guilty, as it means that N's journey in the morning is over 2 hours long (he works in Chichester, around 60 miles away from where we live).
The difference last week was amazing. Our daughter slept until 7.45 most days (hurrah!) and had at least one long nap in the day. To make things better, N has been able to agree a slightly shorter lunch break, meaning he can get an earlier train home. He's now home over half an hour earlier, which makes a huge difference, and means we have been able to reinstate our daughter's evening routine (play, bath, bottle, bed) to it's original time, which in turn has settled her more readily and meant that we get a slightly longer evening and don't feel like we only have time to eat and sleep.
My next challenge from here is to find something interesting to do. Due to some kind of (administrative?) oversight, we weren't invited to a post-natal class, so I have no-one to talk to, visit etc during the day. We have some other friends that we were regularly visiting, but they have recently had their second baby, so are somewhat occupied at the moment! I know I really should take our daughter swimming, but it seems complicated - mainly to do with getting myself prepared to show legs and swimsuit-line (never bikini-line; I wouldn't want to scare anyone!) in public.
I have found one thing to do helping out a local organisation with some basic admin, but it's home-work, so I won't be getting out, which is a shame. I would love to be able to go for a walk, but we live on a main road (think 1/3 of a mile from motorways) which runs in a very steep valley, so there isn't anywhere suitable. Oh to be by the sea again!
Ah well, I guess there's always another trip round Tesco... :-)
25 October 2006
One year on
A couple of weeks ago, N & I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. We had a fantastic day - we dropped the baby off with her grandparents and then legged it into town for the matinee of Monty Python's Spamalot in the West End. We were originally going to see this on Broadway on our honeymoon, but as I was 10 weeks pregnant, I thought that the 7 hour flight to NY would be a bad idea, as I would either have had to be drugged to the eyeballs or I would be in full panic mode for the entire time!
After the show (which was EXCELLENT - if we can find an excuse/babysitter to see it again, we will) we went back to a local hotel; in fact the one we had our wedding reception in. As part of our wedding package, they gave us a free anniversary meal, so we stayed the night as well. This is no doubt the marketing ploy they are hoping for, but a night out is so rare, and last year we were (well, I was) too exhausted to enjoy being in a swanky suite.
The following morning we had a lie-in - we only got up at 8am! After a lovely breakfast, we opened our cards and presents in the hotel room and then went shopping without the baby. We went to pick her up in the late morning, stayed for lunch and then headed home mid-afternoon as the other grandparents were popping over. All in all, we had a fabulous weekend.
It was lovely; not only getting the "time off" to ourselves, but looking back over the year, remembering the fantastic wedding day we had and realising how lucky we are in our lives. After the huge changes that have happened to us, we are so aware of how much we value the support we have from our wonderful friends and family. And for two people who are incredibly shy and find new social situations very difficult, we have a great deal of people who care for us - we are truly rich in the only way that matters to us.
I know that this sounds wishy-washy, but I honestly believe that we can give our daughter no greater gift than the loving and supportive environment we live in.
After the show (which was EXCELLENT - if we can find an excuse/babysitter to see it again, we will) we went back to a local hotel; in fact the one we had our wedding reception in. As part of our wedding package, they gave us a free anniversary meal, so we stayed the night as well. This is no doubt the marketing ploy they are hoping for, but a night out is so rare, and last year we were (well, I was) too exhausted to enjoy being in a swanky suite.
The following morning we had a lie-in - we only got up at 8am! After a lovely breakfast, we opened our cards and presents in the hotel room and then went shopping without the baby. We went to pick her up in the late morning, stayed for lunch and then headed home mid-afternoon as the other grandparents were popping over. All in all, we had a fabulous weekend.
It was lovely; not only getting the "time off" to ourselves, but looking back over the year, remembering the fantastic wedding day we had and realising how lucky we are in our lives. After the huge changes that have happened to us, we are so aware of how much we value the support we have from our wonderful friends and family. And for two people who are incredibly shy and find new social situations very difficult, we have a great deal of people who care for us - we are truly rich in the only way that matters to us.
I know that this sounds wishy-washy, but I honestly believe that we can give our daughter no greater gift than the loving and supportive environment we live in.
1,000 and counting!
Six months ago today, at 11.47am to be precise, our daughter was born. Wow. I can’t believe it’s been so long, and at the same time, I can’t believe it’s only six months.
I have found it hard adjusting to being a mother. At the start, the night feeds would have me in tears as I fought the pain of her rough feeding technique and the exhaustion. I found it hard to bond with her, as the experience of giving birth was horrific for me – not the birth process itself, but the lack of communication and any kind of empathy shown by the midwives. One midwife on her final post-natal visit managed to reduce me to tears with her inconsiderate attitude. Dr Crippen's comments on “madwives” struck many chords with me.
I am frustrated by my daughter and infuriated at times. I do not cope well with not being able to reason with her, even though I know it is not the fault of either of us. My fear of not being ready for this has had a big impact, and I know I am not as patient as I could be.
But for every second of the tears, fears and sleeplessness I have had, the joy is multiplied one-thousand-fold. I adore her. Every look, every smile, the laughter and the chance to watch each new experience is more magical than I ever believed possible. Even as she struggles against her daytime naps (and how she fights to stay awake and experience more of the world, and NOW!) she makes me smile. The way she beams at me when I get her up in the morning, the giggles as I make aeroplanes with her food and the excited laugh and arms-held-aloft that greets her Daddy as he comes home make every second of the hard bits infinitely worth it.
All I have to do now is keep reminding myself of this when we decide to have another child! (Thinking of you Emily, hope all goes well) Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the title refers to the approximate number of dirty nappies we’ve changed in the last 6 months!
I have found it hard adjusting to being a mother. At the start, the night feeds would have me in tears as I fought the pain of her rough feeding technique and the exhaustion. I found it hard to bond with her, as the experience of giving birth was horrific for me – not the birth process itself, but the lack of communication and any kind of empathy shown by the midwives. One midwife on her final post-natal visit managed to reduce me to tears with her inconsiderate attitude. Dr Crippen's comments on “madwives” struck many chords with me.
I am frustrated by my daughter and infuriated at times. I do not cope well with not being able to reason with her, even though I know it is not the fault of either of us. My fear of not being ready for this has had a big impact, and I know I am not as patient as I could be.
But for every second of the tears, fears and sleeplessness I have had, the joy is multiplied one-thousand-fold. I adore her. Every look, every smile, the laughter and the chance to watch each new experience is more magical than I ever believed possible. Even as she struggles against her daytime naps (and how she fights to stay awake and experience more of the world, and NOW!) she makes me smile. The way she beams at me when I get her up in the morning, the giggles as I make aeroplanes with her food and the excited laugh and arms-held-aloft that greets her Daddy as he comes home make every second of the hard bits infinitely worth it.
All I have to do now is keep reminding myself of this when we decide to have another child! (Thinking of you Emily, hope all goes well) Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the title refers to the approximate number of dirty nappies we’ve changed in the last 6 months!
12 October 2006
Diplomatic Relations
The second big thing that happened last week was very unexpected. My dad came to visit.
Now I know that doesn't sound like a huge thing, but our relationship is... complex. My parents split up when I was about 13, but before that, my dad had been flitting in and out. He is an alcoholic, and was never stable, partly because of problems in his own childhood. I have memories of arguments and shouting, and I vividly remember praying that I fell asleep each night before my dad woke up to start shouting again otherwise I knew I'd be awake for hours trying to block out the sound. When my mum finally told my dad to leave I was really happy.
In the intervening years, my relationship with my dad deteriorated further. I couldn't forgive him for treating us the way he did, even if he did have other problems. I also found an old diary that my mum used to keep, and, being the nosy interfering child that I am, I read it. It really helped me, as it filled in gaps in my life that I wanted to know but could never ask, but I knew that I could never tell my mum about it as it was all about the unhappiest parts of their marriage.
My dad then disappeared off around the world, living out of my parents' joint bank account and running up debts on their joint assets - that my mum then had to pay back. It was a horrendously stressful time for my mum, and as the oldest child, I felt responsible for helping her through it. When my dad did get in touch, I didn't want to speak to him. Eventually, one day when I was about 15 or 16, he rang when there was no-one else in, and (in my memory at least) calmly and as dispassionately as I could I told him how I felt about him. It was horrendous, and made us both cry (can you imagine how I felt at 16 making my father cry). Since then, we've never really spoken. Most recently I saw him at my sister's 21st and at her graduation (she still has a good relationship with him), but that was over 3 years ago.
When I found out I was pregnant I dithered about whether to tell him, and if so, how. My instincts were always that he would be my child's grandfather and therefore had a right to know - even if we had no relationship, my child had a right to his/her grandparent. My reservation was down to the fact that he had remarried (a lovely lady, no problems there) and I knew that this was the kind of thing that could cause him to wobble and disappear from the scene.
In the end, I rang him and told him. It was a weird conversation, a bit out of the blue about 2 weeks before our wedding (to which he wasn't invited). He asked about visiting us, and I said of course he could, but then didn't hear from him again. When our daughter was born, I rang and told him. He sounded so emotional on the phone, and asked if he could see her. I said that of course he could, because he's her family. But again, we didn't hear from him, and I also found out that he left his wife briefly and started implying to my sister that he missed our mum and wanted to get back together with her (raising my sister's hopes, even after all this time).
I began to get annoyed - I have no issue with our relationship, but messing my daughter around is another thing altogether. I fumed about it, and in the end, about 2 weeks ago I sent him and his wife a polite, chatty letter with a couple of photos. In the letter I said that I hadn't been in touch as I didn't want to offend or upset them, but here were some pictures and a little news. To my huge surprise, about 3 days later he called me and after a quick chat asked what we were doing at the weekend, and arranged to visit!
I spent the next couple of days being surprised and a little excited - after everything, he's still my dad and I know I've always loved him even when I've disliked him more than I can describe, and I'd given up on ever knowing him again. On the other hand, I was aware that this could be an unmitigated disaster and I knew that I had to be prepared. My main goal was to enable my daughter to see all of her grandparents as she grows up.
On Saturday, N & I cleaned the house, while trying not too look like we were too bothered (I don't know who we were trying to kid). N is very tidy, unlike me, and as he's never really met my dad, I know he was a lot more nervous than he was letting on.
Just before 2 they arrived, just as our daughter decided she needed a nap. So we sat down, and the four of us chatted. It was strange, as though there was no history, but nice. An hour later, our daughter got up, and we introduced them. As ever, she had the effect that she seems to have on everyone she meets; she watched them intently with her huge blue eyes and then after a few minutes decided that they were trustworthy and gave them the biggest grin she could. Of course, they were completely won over, and we spent the next hour talking about babies, including what I was like, which was very funny. Everyone seemed to get along, and although I can't speak for anyone else, it seemed very relaxed.
All of a sudden it was 4pm, and they had to go for the 2 hour drive back to Oxfordshire, and I spent the rest of the weekend wondering if they had actually been, it had been so surreal. I haven't dared let myself be happy about it - I really really hope that something comes of it, and that we manage to stay in touch, but until it happens, I'm just glad that they finally met our daughter and sad that they missed so much fun in her earliest days.
Now I know that doesn't sound like a huge thing, but our relationship is... complex. My parents split up when I was about 13, but before that, my dad had been flitting in and out. He is an alcoholic, and was never stable, partly because of problems in his own childhood. I have memories of arguments and shouting, and I vividly remember praying that I fell asleep each night before my dad woke up to start shouting again otherwise I knew I'd be awake for hours trying to block out the sound. When my mum finally told my dad to leave I was really happy.
In the intervening years, my relationship with my dad deteriorated further. I couldn't forgive him for treating us the way he did, even if he did have other problems. I also found an old diary that my mum used to keep, and, being the nosy interfering child that I am, I read it. It really helped me, as it filled in gaps in my life that I wanted to know but could never ask, but I knew that I could never tell my mum about it as it was all about the unhappiest parts of their marriage.
My dad then disappeared off around the world, living out of my parents' joint bank account and running up debts on their joint assets - that my mum then had to pay back. It was a horrendously stressful time for my mum, and as the oldest child, I felt responsible for helping her through it. When my dad did get in touch, I didn't want to speak to him. Eventually, one day when I was about 15 or 16, he rang when there was no-one else in, and (in my memory at least) calmly and as dispassionately as I could I told him how I felt about him. It was horrendous, and made us both cry (can you imagine how I felt at 16 making my father cry). Since then, we've never really spoken. Most recently I saw him at my sister's 21st and at her graduation (she still has a good relationship with him), but that was over 3 years ago.
When I found out I was pregnant I dithered about whether to tell him, and if so, how. My instincts were always that he would be my child's grandfather and therefore had a right to know - even if we had no relationship, my child had a right to his/her grandparent. My reservation was down to the fact that he had remarried (a lovely lady, no problems there) and I knew that this was the kind of thing that could cause him to wobble and disappear from the scene.
In the end, I rang him and told him. It was a weird conversation, a bit out of the blue about 2 weeks before our wedding (to which he wasn't invited). He asked about visiting us, and I said of course he could, but then didn't hear from him again. When our daughter was born, I rang and told him. He sounded so emotional on the phone, and asked if he could see her. I said that of course he could, because he's her family. But again, we didn't hear from him, and I also found out that he left his wife briefly and started implying to my sister that he missed our mum and wanted to get back together with her (raising my sister's hopes, even after all this time).
I began to get annoyed - I have no issue with our relationship, but messing my daughter around is another thing altogether. I fumed about it, and in the end, about 2 weeks ago I sent him and his wife a polite, chatty letter with a couple of photos. In the letter I said that I hadn't been in touch as I didn't want to offend or upset them, but here were some pictures and a little news. To my huge surprise, about 3 days later he called me and after a quick chat asked what we were doing at the weekend, and arranged to visit!
I spent the next couple of days being surprised and a little excited - after everything, he's still my dad and I know I've always loved him even when I've disliked him more than I can describe, and I'd given up on ever knowing him again. On the other hand, I was aware that this could be an unmitigated disaster and I knew that I had to be prepared. My main goal was to enable my daughter to see all of her grandparents as she grows up.
On Saturday, N & I cleaned the house, while trying not too look like we were too bothered (I don't know who we were trying to kid). N is very tidy, unlike me, and as he's never really met my dad, I know he was a lot more nervous than he was letting on.
Just before 2 they arrived, just as our daughter decided she needed a nap. So we sat down, and the four of us chatted. It was strange, as though there was no history, but nice. An hour later, our daughter got up, and we introduced them. As ever, she had the effect that she seems to have on everyone she meets; she watched them intently with her huge blue eyes and then after a few minutes decided that they were trustworthy and gave them the biggest grin she could. Of course, they were completely won over, and we spent the next hour talking about babies, including what I was like, which was very funny. Everyone seemed to get along, and although I can't speak for anyone else, it seemed very relaxed.
All of a sudden it was 4pm, and they had to go for the 2 hour drive back to Oxfordshire, and I spent the rest of the weekend wondering if they had actually been, it had been so surreal. I haven't dared let myself be happy about it - I really really hope that something comes of it, and that we manage to stay in touch, but until it happens, I'm just glad that they finally met our daughter and sad that they missed so much fun in her earliest days.
London Calling
Last week was a really big week for me personally, as two big things happened. I'm not going to post about them both in one post as they're so different, so you'll have to wait for the other one!
The first big thing was that I went back to my choir. I've always sung in a choir, ever since I was eight, and it's a huge part of my life. I started in our church choir, then with the Royal School of Church Music who run cathedral choirs, and then local choral societies as I got older.
In 2004 I joined the BBC Symphony Chorus, and I absolutely love it. I get to sing a really wide repertoire with some amazing orchestras and conductors and best of all, we're one of the main choirs for the Proms! The BBCSC provides the choir that sings on the first and last nights in the Albert Hall, so I have sung on stage at the Last Night of the Proms - I never thought I'd be able to say that! (They also provide singers for the Blue Peter Christmas show - so I've done that too - how cool will it be when my daughter is old enough to watch?)
I had decided to miss some time before our wedding, so didn't do the 2005 Proms, and then when I found out I was pregnant I realised that I was going to be far too tired to commit to the 3 nights a week (plus concerts) I would need to do, so I missed all of the 2005/06 season as well. Last week, the new season started, so I went back for the first time in almost a year.
I was really nervous about going, as I realised that I had not been out of my comfort zone of friends and family for over six months. It was quite scary to realie how easy it is to fall into the habit of not going out and not making any effort. I knew that if I didn't go, I'd never get back, and so I forced myself out of the door.
Once I'd made it, bought my ticket and got on the train, I suddenly realised just how much I missed it. I've always enjoyed working in London, and am one of those weird people who doesn't mind the commute (I leave enough time to travel in rush hour without having to push or shove anywhere). When I finally arrived in Victoria Station I actually felt relieved to be back - not the normal reaction to the hustle and bustle, I know!
Being back singing was fantastic - apart from seeing other normal people again, just getting the workout was great. It's amazing how having a baby teaches you about support and all the muscles you need to use when you're singing; I guess knowing where my pelvic floor is helps too!
I just hope I can carry on. N goes back to work next week, and as it stands he won't be home by the time I need to leave to get there. My mum has offered her partner's services (not sure if he knows though) so hopefully we can work something out. I miss not seeing my daughter's bed time as it's my favourite part of the day, but I know I'm a much better mother to her when I feel that I have a life that isn't all about her.
The first big thing was that I went back to my choir. I've always sung in a choir, ever since I was eight, and it's a huge part of my life. I started in our church choir, then with the Royal School of Church Music who run cathedral choirs, and then local choral societies as I got older.
In 2004 I joined the BBC Symphony Chorus, and I absolutely love it. I get to sing a really wide repertoire with some amazing orchestras and conductors and best of all, we're one of the main choirs for the Proms! The BBCSC provides the choir that sings on the first and last nights in the Albert Hall, so I have sung on stage at the Last Night of the Proms - I never thought I'd be able to say that! (They also provide singers for the Blue Peter Christmas show - so I've done that too - how cool will it be when my daughter is old enough to watch?)
I had decided to miss some time before our wedding, so didn't do the 2005 Proms, and then when I found out I was pregnant I realised that I was going to be far too tired to commit to the 3 nights a week (plus concerts) I would need to do, so I missed all of the 2005/06 season as well. Last week, the new season started, so I went back for the first time in almost a year.
I was really nervous about going, as I realised that I had not been out of my comfort zone of friends and family for over six months. It was quite scary to realie how easy it is to fall into the habit of not going out and not making any effort. I knew that if I didn't go, I'd never get back, and so I forced myself out of the door.
Once I'd made it, bought my ticket and got on the train, I suddenly realised just how much I missed it. I've always enjoyed working in London, and am one of those weird people who doesn't mind the commute (I leave enough time to travel in rush hour without having to push or shove anywhere). When I finally arrived in Victoria Station I actually felt relieved to be back - not the normal reaction to the hustle and bustle, I know!
Being back singing was fantastic - apart from seeing other normal people again, just getting the workout was great. It's amazing how having a baby teaches you about support and all the muscles you need to use when you're singing; I guess knowing where my pelvic floor is helps too!
I just hope I can carry on. N goes back to work next week, and as it stands he won't be home by the time I need to leave to get there. My mum has offered her partner's services (not sure if he knows though) so hopefully we can work something out. I miss not seeing my daughter's bed time as it's my favourite part of the day, but I know I'm a much better mother to her when I feel that I have a life that isn't all about her.
25 September 2006
Out and about
On Saturday, my mum took me and my daughter down to visit my sister in Reading. It was an absolutely fabulous day of "doing lunch" and shopping. None of us are particularly girly, but it was lovely for the three of us to get out and gossip like we used to when my sister and I both lived at home.
It was great for us to have some "fun" time - and for my mum to relax a bit - as things with my grandparents have not been great. My grandfather has had a pacemaker fitted - which is good, as he now seems to be incredibly well, but he only had it fitted because he collapsed at home, which was scary. My grandmother has had a fit (we feared that it may be another stroke) and is even more confused than before. It is hard work for my mum and aunt looking after them on top of it being very upsetting to see my once fiercely independent gran reduced to needing help with washing, dressing, using the toilet and so on. However, things there seem to be stabilising for now, so we all keep our fingers crossed and pray daily for small miracles on their behalf.
It was also incredibly liberating for me to be able to go out with my daughter for a whole day without having to dash back home to feed her. Although I ended up giving her her lunch on a bench outside M&S, we were still able to be out for the best part of 5 hours without too many problems. Suddenly I can see me getting out a lot more once N goes back to work.
Sadly for me, N will be back at work in 3 weeks. I'm really going to miss him. It's great that he's got himself a job, and I know he'll really enjoy his job there, but I have absolutely loved the last 6 months of the two of us being at home together with our daughter, and I'm really sad to be giving that up.
It's only because we were both made redundant before our daughter was born (me voluntarily, N compulsorily) that we could afford to be at home together, but I am so glad that we could. Apart from the fact that N has kept me sane and we have helped each other through the difficult patches, it has given us a chance to spend the quality time together that I thought we would have lost due to the unexpected pregnancy. We had originally planned to be married for a year before starting a family (but our daughter had other ideas!) and one of my biggest fears was that we would lose part of our relationship because we didn't have the year to enjoy being married that we had planned to have. Having this time off though, N and I are now closer than ever and I'm suddenly very conscious of just how much we have going for us.
I'm aware that we're extremely lucky to have even been able to have this time, and that it will be good for us to get back to what will be long-term normality, but it is going to be a major change and I will miss it, and N, hugely.
It was great for us to have some "fun" time - and for my mum to relax a bit - as things with my grandparents have not been great. My grandfather has had a pacemaker fitted - which is good, as he now seems to be incredibly well, but he only had it fitted because he collapsed at home, which was scary. My grandmother has had a fit (we feared that it may be another stroke) and is even more confused than before. It is hard work for my mum and aunt looking after them on top of it being very upsetting to see my once fiercely independent gran reduced to needing help with washing, dressing, using the toilet and so on. However, things there seem to be stabilising for now, so we all keep our fingers crossed and pray daily for small miracles on their behalf.
It was also incredibly liberating for me to be able to go out with my daughter for a whole day without having to dash back home to feed her. Although I ended up giving her her lunch on a bench outside M&S, we were still able to be out for the best part of 5 hours without too many problems. Suddenly I can see me getting out a lot more once N goes back to work.
Sadly for me, N will be back at work in 3 weeks. I'm really going to miss him. It's great that he's got himself a job, and I know he'll really enjoy his job there, but I have absolutely loved the last 6 months of the two of us being at home together with our daughter, and I'm really sad to be giving that up.
It's only because we were both made redundant before our daughter was born (me voluntarily, N compulsorily) that we could afford to be at home together, but I am so glad that we could. Apart from the fact that N has kept me sane and we have helped each other through the difficult patches, it has given us a chance to spend the quality time together that I thought we would have lost due to the unexpected pregnancy. We had originally planned to be married for a year before starting a family (but our daughter had other ideas!) and one of my biggest fears was that we would lose part of our relationship because we didn't have the year to enjoy being married that we had planned to have. Having this time off though, N and I are now closer than ever and I'm suddenly very conscious of just how much we have going for us.
I'm aware that we're extremely lucky to have even been able to have this time, and that it will be good for us to get back to what will be long-term normality, but it is going to be a major change and I will miss it, and N, hugely.
12 September 2006
Feeling Icky
I've not been feeling 100% over the last week. On Wednesday I started to feel a bit bunged up and fluey, and my armpit felt like someone had been snapping elastic bands in it. I ignored it for most of the morning, but as I began to feel worse towards lunchtime, I thought I'd better make an appointment with the doctor.
I remembered reading about mastitis when I was pregnant, and it sounded like that was a possibility, as my daughter has just started reducing her feeds as she takes more solids. If it was mastitis, then I knew I needed to make sure that I tried to clear any blocked ducts. The advice given in all the NHS booklets is along the lines of "keep feeding your child, whilst gently massaging". Easier said than done.
To be on the safe side, I carried on feeding my daughter from the sore side (not amusing, I can assure you - imagine having a very large, very painful bruise, and at regular intervals someone tugs on it, whilst you prod it in every other direction). It felt a little better, so I hoped that maybe I'd caught it soon enough, but when I woke the next morning I felt absolutely dreadful. I felt as though I had a full-on case of flu. I have not felt so ill since I had glandular fever at university. Never have I been so grateful for N still being at home as I was in no state to look after our daughter.
N took me up to the doctors, where he confirmed that I did indeed have mastitis, and prescribed a course of antibiotics to help the infection. We went straight to the pharmacist to fill the prescription and I've essentially been sleeping since. I still can't believe how exhausted I am; I've got a young baby for goodness sake, you think I'd be used to being tired. At the moment though, I just can't do more than a couple of hours before being shattered and needing another sleep.
What I was really shocked about (perhaps naively) was the huge list of contraindications on the antibiotics. Aside from the fact that these things look like horse pills, there are horrific side effects that I may not notice until "several weeks after the course of medication is complete" and that it is possible to pass some of these side effects on to my daughter as I'm still breastfeeding. I'm assuming that these are suitable tablets as I talked to the doctor about breastfeeding, but it does seem slightly contrary to common sense that the medication for an illness commonly found in breastfeeding mothers is potentially harmful to a young baby being breastfed. Luckily our daughter seems to be ok so far (touch wood) so that's ok.
The other problem is that my eating and sleeping is now heavily regimented. These tablets are so strong they have to be spaced evenly apart (where other tablets say "you should try to take them spaced evenly" these say "you MUST take them at regular intervals") and I can't eat for 2 hours before or 1 hour after each tablet. This means that I can only eat in 3 hour slots, and by the time we've put our daughter to bed and had dinner it's so close to the next tablet that it's not worth me going to bed, only to get up to take a tablet, so I've ended up staying up until midnight, when all I've wanted to do is to crawl into bed as soon as possible.
Luckily N has been an absolute star. He has been entertaining our daughter, taking her out and about so that I can sleep, and generally looking after me in the best possible way. I'm very lucky to have him, and even luckier that we've both been in the position to be at home for the first 5 months of our daughter's life.
___________
In other illness-related news, my grandfather has had another funny turn and is back in hospital, this time needing a pacemaker. Although it probably seems a little callous of me to just mention this as an addendum, it is not really a major thing; firstly because the operation is simple; secondly because it will improve his quality of life onehundredfold; and thirdly because everyone is so un-bothered by it that my mum told me of his latest wobble via email. Not exactly rushing the news through!
I remembered reading about mastitis when I was pregnant, and it sounded like that was a possibility, as my daughter has just started reducing her feeds as she takes more solids. If it was mastitis, then I knew I needed to make sure that I tried to clear any blocked ducts. The advice given in all the NHS booklets is along the lines of "keep feeding your child, whilst gently massaging". Easier said than done.
To be on the safe side, I carried on feeding my daughter from the sore side (not amusing, I can assure you - imagine having a very large, very painful bruise, and at regular intervals someone tugs on it, whilst you prod it in every other direction). It felt a little better, so I hoped that maybe I'd caught it soon enough, but when I woke the next morning I felt absolutely dreadful. I felt as though I had a full-on case of flu. I have not felt so ill since I had glandular fever at university. Never have I been so grateful for N still being at home as I was in no state to look after our daughter.
N took me up to the doctors, where he confirmed that I did indeed have mastitis, and prescribed a course of antibiotics to help the infection. We went straight to the pharmacist to fill the prescription and I've essentially been sleeping since. I still can't believe how exhausted I am; I've got a young baby for goodness sake, you think I'd be used to being tired. At the moment though, I just can't do more than a couple of hours before being shattered and needing another sleep.
What I was really shocked about (perhaps naively) was the huge list of contraindications on the antibiotics. Aside from the fact that these things look like horse pills, there are horrific side effects that I may not notice until "several weeks after the course of medication is complete" and that it is possible to pass some of these side effects on to my daughter as I'm still breastfeeding. I'm assuming that these are suitable tablets as I talked to the doctor about breastfeeding, but it does seem slightly contrary to common sense that the medication for an illness commonly found in breastfeeding mothers is potentially harmful to a young baby being breastfed. Luckily our daughter seems to be ok so far (touch wood) so that's ok.
The other problem is that my eating and sleeping is now heavily regimented. These tablets are so strong they have to be spaced evenly apart (where other tablets say "you should try to take them spaced evenly" these say "you MUST take them at regular intervals") and I can't eat for 2 hours before or 1 hour after each tablet. This means that I can only eat in 3 hour slots, and by the time we've put our daughter to bed and had dinner it's so close to the next tablet that it's not worth me going to bed, only to get up to take a tablet, so I've ended up staying up until midnight, when all I've wanted to do is to crawl into bed as soon as possible.
Luckily N has been an absolute star. He has been entertaining our daughter, taking her out and about so that I can sleep, and generally looking after me in the best possible way. I'm very lucky to have him, and even luckier that we've both been in the position to be at home for the first 5 months of our daughter's life.
___________
In other illness-related news, my grandfather has had another funny turn and is back in hospital, this time needing a pacemaker. Although it probably seems a little callous of me to just mention this as an addendum, it is not really a major thing; firstly because the operation is simple; secondly because it will improve his quality of life onehundredfold; and thirdly because everyone is so un-bothered by it that my mum told me of his latest wobble via email. Not exactly rushing the news through!
04 September 2006
A Basic Glossary
While writing my last post, I mentioned one of my daughter's favourite toys and it made me realise just how much of N & my terminology is quite possibly meaningless for those outside our family and friends circle.
In order that I don't have to post huge explanations each time, I thought I'd write a glossary, and I can update it each time I think of a new family word or phrase. Here are a few to be getting along with:
Blart:
Baby sick. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh no, she's just blarted all over the sofa"
Blart Rag:
Cloth or tissue used to mop up blart (varies, depending on proximity to offending blart patch). Would be used in sentence such as "Ewww, it's all over me - pass a blart rag, will you?"
Heffalump:
A much-beloved red, green, blue and yellow creature that rattles, squeaks and has two interesting bell noises in it and has a trunk that is perfect for stuffing in one's mouth.
Keys:
A handily-grabbable item with 3 strange interpretations of animals. Designed to be both a rattle and a teething ring, this item's most frequent use is to inflict bruises on any nearby skin (including child's own).
Kicky Chair:
A reclining baby bouncer/rocker that has footpads that can be kicked, thus setting off a variety of lights and tunes. Also comes with 'calming vibrations' option that can rattle the eyeballs out of the skull of a newborn. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh God, the kicky chair's going out of tune - whatever you do, buy more batteries!"
Naked Baby Song:
The tune that is sung to signal the arrival of the bedtime routine, which begins with aforementioned baby being completely stripped for bathing.
Snail:
Favourite book, in which we follow the thrilling tale of Stan the snail looking for his friend Sam. As we follow the trail through the garden, we encounter fabulous scenery, especially the scrunchy leaves that are perfect for grabbing and stuffing into the mouth. Companion publications include "Hen", "Frog", "Fish" and "Mouse".
Spinny Thing:
Ceiling fan in bedroom that is completely fascinating to small babies. Would be used in a sentence such as "Don't cry sweetie - oh look, is that your spinny thing up there? Ooh, look at that!"
I do hope that this weird alternative language isn't going to have too many long term negative implications for our daughter - we can't be the only ones doing this... can we?
In order that I don't have to post huge explanations each time, I thought I'd write a glossary, and I can update it each time I think of a new family word or phrase. Here are a few to be getting along with:
Blart:
Baby sick. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh no, she's just blarted all over the sofa"
Blart Rag:
Cloth or tissue used to mop up blart (varies, depending on proximity to offending blart patch). Would be used in sentence such as "Ewww, it's all over me - pass a blart rag, will you?"
Heffalump:
A much-beloved red, green, blue and yellow creature that rattles, squeaks and has two interesting bell noises in it and has a trunk that is perfect for stuffing in one's mouth.
Keys:
A handily-grabbable item with 3 strange interpretations of animals. Designed to be both a rattle and a teething ring, this item's most frequent use is to inflict bruises on any nearby skin (including child's own).
Kicky Chair:
A reclining baby bouncer/rocker that has footpads that can be kicked, thus setting off a variety of lights and tunes. Also comes with 'calming vibrations' option that can rattle the eyeballs out of the skull of a newborn. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh God, the kicky chair's going out of tune - whatever you do, buy more batteries!"
Naked Baby Song:
The tune that is sung to signal the arrival of the bedtime routine, which begins with aforementioned baby being completely stripped for bathing.
Snail:
Favourite book, in which we follow the thrilling tale of Stan the snail looking for his friend Sam. As we follow the trail through the garden, we encounter fabulous scenery, especially the scrunchy leaves that are perfect for grabbing and stuffing into the mouth. Companion publications include "Hen", "Frog", "Fish" and "Mouse".
Spinny Thing:
Ceiling fan in bedroom that is completely fascinating to small babies. Would be used in a sentence such as "Don't cry sweetie - oh look, is that your spinny thing up there? Ooh, look at that!"
I do hope that this weird alternative language isn't going to have too many long term negative implications for our daughter - we can't be the only ones doing this... can we?
03 September 2006
Feeding Frenzy!
Our daughter started on solids just over a week ago. She went to see the health visitor at the clinic, and I explained how feeding times had deteriorated into a tug of war - she was NOT interested in feeding, it was boring, and she wanted to be doing something else thank you very much! Also, everytime N or I sat down to eat, all activity would cease, and she would stare at us with rapt attention. Never has such a shouty baby been so silent!
I had planned to breastfeed for at least 6 months, but apparently my daughter had other ideas! The health visitor recommend we start with baby rice at lunchtimes and then gradually build the meals up from there. Now, I had never heard of baby rice (clearly I am already a failed parent) so got some from the shop - well, actually, I added it to the next home delivery; let them search the aisles for it!
So we were armed with baby rice, and managed to find some bibs, a suitable container and a soft spoon. We were all set.
Then we hit hurdle one. No high-chair. As we hadn't planned to start solids for at least another 2 months, we hadn't worked out which set of grandparents was going tocough up help with the chair. No problems - we had 2 options. A weird bath seat thing which our daughter can't really sit in as she can't sit up yet, or her beloved kicky chair (like a baby bouncer, but interactive), without the bit that has the light and sound show. We opted for the former, as it has higher sides and is a lot easier to wipe clean.
Then came hurdle two. How the hell do you make up the baby rice? I mean really, I have no idea! The health visitor had said one thing, the box another, but neither actually gave me a useful comparative measure, such as "mix until the consistency of runny porridge" or "until there are no lumps at all" or whatever. So I mixed it up until N & I thought it looked ok and we went for the first feed.
There I was, baby rice at the ready. The look on our daughter's face was priceless - we even managed to capture it on photo (yes, we are already planning her humiliation when she brings her first boy/girlfriend home to meet us - is that wrong?). She looked at us as if to say "What on earth is THAT?" swiftly followed by "OK, I'll try it, but I'm not making any promises".
Her first meal was, how shall I put this, not successful. Apart from the fact that she had to get used to the fact that this food wasn't all runny, and she had to keep waiting for it while Mummy refilled the spoon, it tasted horrible and she let us know about it! Now I know why I had never heard of baby rice. It's like eating soggy cardboard but with none of the excitement. She ate about 3 teaspooonsful and then refused to eat any more.
We knew we had to persevere however, and so the next day we tried again. This time we used the adapted kicky chair as we could strap her in more securely so she couldn't fling herself out (probably trying to escape the vile rice). I mixed the rice, this time with formula milk to see if that was better, and we tried again.
Well, if anything, this was worse. She knew what was coming, and wasn't having a bit of it. Each spoonful started out with huge promise, and each one let her down, by still being filled with that yucky gunk. We gave up the baby rice for that day, but just out of curiosity I decided to try a jar of mushed veg baby food that I had in preparation in the cupboard (no, I haven't mashed my own - obviously I am aware this will contribute to her delinquency later in life).
The difference in the reactions had to be seen to be believed! She shovelled that orange goo down her throat like it was nectar from the gods. It was almost as if she was saying "Finally! I knew that this eating thing was more fun than that!" So we abandoned the baby rice and have moved to varying selections of vegetables - not least the more *ahem* interesting jars brought back from France by my mother (she's doing the nappies after the pulverised artichoke - I kid you not).
10 days on, and she's happily on 2 meals a day, and she hardly even covers herself in the stuff anymore. Mainly, I think, because that would be a waste of good food and if she's anything like N or me she'll be able to eat for Britain. The really fun bit is when she tries to help with the spoon and sticks her own fingers in goop, and in her mouth, and then, in a devastatingly cute display of affection blows parsnip-flavoured raspberries at us. Damn, that kid is gorgeous!
I had planned to breastfeed for at least 6 months, but apparently my daughter had other ideas! The health visitor recommend we start with baby rice at lunchtimes and then gradually build the meals up from there. Now, I had never heard of baby rice (clearly I am already a failed parent) so got some from the shop - well, actually, I added it to the next home delivery; let them search the aisles for it!
So we were armed with baby rice, and managed to find some bibs, a suitable container and a soft spoon. We were all set.
Then we hit hurdle one. No high-chair. As we hadn't planned to start solids for at least another 2 months, we hadn't worked out which set of grandparents was going to
Then came hurdle two. How the hell do you make up the baby rice? I mean really, I have no idea! The health visitor had said one thing, the box another, but neither actually gave me a useful comparative measure, such as "mix until the consistency of runny porridge" or "until there are no lumps at all" or whatever. So I mixed it up until N & I thought it looked ok and we went for the first feed.
There I was, baby rice at the ready. The look on our daughter's face was priceless - we even managed to capture it on photo (yes, we are already planning her humiliation when she brings her first boy/girlfriend home to meet us - is that wrong?). She looked at us as if to say "What on earth is THAT?" swiftly followed by "OK, I'll try it, but I'm not making any promises".
Her first meal was, how shall I put this, not successful. Apart from the fact that she had to get used to the fact that this food wasn't all runny, and she had to keep waiting for it while Mummy refilled the spoon, it tasted horrible and she let us know about it! Now I know why I had never heard of baby rice. It's like eating soggy cardboard but with none of the excitement. She ate about 3 teaspooonsful and then refused to eat any more.
We knew we had to persevere however, and so the next day we tried again. This time we used the adapted kicky chair as we could strap her in more securely so she couldn't fling herself out (probably trying to escape the vile rice). I mixed the rice, this time with formula milk to see if that was better, and we tried again.
Well, if anything, this was worse. She knew what was coming, and wasn't having a bit of it. Each spoonful started out with huge promise, and each one let her down, by still being filled with that yucky gunk. We gave up the baby rice for that day, but just out of curiosity I decided to try a jar of mushed veg baby food that I had in preparation in the cupboard (no, I haven't mashed my own - obviously I am aware this will contribute to her delinquency later in life).
The difference in the reactions had to be seen to be believed! She shovelled that orange goo down her throat like it was nectar from the gods. It was almost as if she was saying "Finally! I knew that this eating thing was more fun than that!" So we abandoned the baby rice and have moved to varying selections of vegetables - not least the more *ahem* interesting jars brought back from France by my mother (she's doing the nappies after the pulverised artichoke - I kid you not).
10 days on, and she's happily on 2 meals a day, and she hardly even covers herself in the stuff anymore. Mainly, I think, because that would be a waste of good food and if she's anything like N or me she'll be able to eat for Britain. The really fun bit is when she tries to help with the spoon and sticks her own fingers in goop, and in her mouth, and then, in a devastatingly cute display of affection blows parsnip-flavoured raspberries at us. Damn, that kid is gorgeous!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
