Elah

We are slowly learning to speak Miri-language, that is, recognising her different cries. The noise that sounds like an indignant duck being sat on, for instance, roughly translates as "I am seriously pissed off now!" There is also the rhythmic, monotone and repetitive "A-yaar", which means "Give me attention!" or more often, "Why am I in this chair when you are doing something interesting?" The first word we learnt however, the one repeated most often is "Elah".

Elah means FOOD, or more precisely, Boob. At just under 3 weeks old, Miranda is having a growth spurt. She has put on nearly half a kilo in a week, and I swear her feet have got even bigger. This all means that she is eating constantly at the moment, demanding food every hour when she is awake, and disrupting our nights even more than "usual". (nothing as yet is usual or normal!). It is completely exhausting!

I am breastfeeding exclusively at the moment, which has earned whole-hearted approval from the midwife. It wasn't really a conscious decision as Miranda  found the milk bar and latched on within an hour of being born! However, I have no problem with this really. In purely practical terms, it is easier than faffing around with bottles and powder and mixing formula at 3am, I know it is all she needs, and I am never going to run out. And why pay for something when you can get it free?

It hurt like hell to begin with though. Rachel helpfully advised me: "It's fine once the first layer of skin has come off!". Seems to be true actually, it as actually a lot easier now than it was. Nevertheless, as if the episiotomy wasn't bad enough, getting blisters on your nipples is quite high up my list of Things You Should Never Have To Endure. Miranda's suction power is astonishing for one so small! At the moment it is only sore for the first few sucks - and Miri has a habit of lunging at me from a distance. Unfortunately that few seconds of intense pain is enough to render me wide awake meaning it is impossible to sleep through middle-of-the-night feeds. Also, she needs extra fluids at the moment because of the hot weather, so coupled with the growth spurt, she is feeding little but often and my nipples never get the chance to recover!

The hormones associated with breastfeeding are highly weird too. It is very bonding, which I suppose is a survival technique from baby's point of view as Mums wouldn't put up with it otherwise! Carl actually gets a bit jealous so I've started expressing milk so he can have a go at bottlefeeding her. It took a few days for the amount of milk to settle down though, and at first my boobs just swelled up enormously to the point of looking fake and cartoonish, and then promptly leaked everywhere. They have settled now though, leaving me having to panic-buy nursing bras in a ridiculous size 36J!

Sometimes I am quite proud of being able to breastfeed, I do love the time with her and it makes me feel 'capable' somehow, especially since parenthood is so new and there are so many things we need to learn and get used to. I don't have a problem with feeding Miri in public either, most of the time, and I've not had any discouraging comments yet either, not that I should nowadays anyway. I am sure our local pub has seen plenty of women get their boobs out in it in far less respectable circumstances.

At other times, however, I get frustrated with it all. I don't like just being The Milk Bar. Whenever I hold her, she smells food and immediately demands some. This means I don't get cuddles in the way Carl does, I can't just sit and talk to her or play with her like he can because she just hunts for Elah. More annoyingly I can't settle her to sleep in the middle of the night because the food supply is so distracting. When I am really tired, I feel completely useless; sometimes she has actually drained me dry, I can't give her what she really wants, and I can't cuddle her and calm her down either. Aaargh!

I do know this will pass and when she is older I will get to be Mummy properly rather than just Provider of Sustinance. I also know that it is not always going to hurt - though I am dreading when she gets teeth. The benefits of Elah outweigh its annoyances, so I will persevere. And I do love the newfound enormity. To Boobs! *chinks glass*

She's arrived!!!!

Miranda Dione, born 13/06 at 12.14pm, 7lb 2oz....

She finally arrived! And a week early!

She has seriously massive feet (like me) with really long toes, and also loads of dark hair and although everbody says this about their babies, we are convinced she is the cutest most beautiful little girl in the world!!

My labour was absolutely nightmarish though - it is not true, you do not instantly forget the pain. TWENTY EIGHT AND THREE QUARTER HOURS!!! My waters broke around 8am on Saturday 12th, and I started having contractions almost immediately. We went in to hospital, but after checking me over, they sent me home saying come back in a few hours when I was in stage 2 of labour - ie: 3-4cm dilated. By half past 4 the contractions were so painful I couldn't cope any more, so we headed back to the hospital, but I still wasn't dilated. The midwife wasn't actually very simpathetic and told me I shouldn't really have any pain relief until I was more dilated. So I got in a bath at the hospital - hot water really helped the contractions so I sat in that bath for three hours!!! I refused to get out until she'd give me some drugs!! Fortunately by 7pm I was 3cm dilated, I got set up in the labour room, and given gas and air, and a TENS machine. I didn't really get the point of them - it's a little thing that gives you mild eletric shocks in your back. You turn it on when you have a contraction, and whereas it doesn't actually stop it hurting, it does distract you. After a while I forgot I was wearing it, but then noticed as soon as I took it off!

I was only 4cm dilated by 9pm, and worse still, baby's heartrate was really really high, sometimes going over 200bmp. Doctors were worried that she was stressed, and gave me a saline drip to rehydrate me, in case that was what was stressing out Baby. It didn't seem to help, however, and they ended up having to take blood samples from the baby's head to check on her. That was absolutely excrutiating from my point of view, especially because I was so nervous and tired anyway. Fortunately all the tests came back fine.

INCREDIBLE PAIN continued all night - I eventually got on Remifentanil - the new morphine based drug which you self-administer, dosing yourself when you need it. It was absolutely WONDERFUL. Didn't actually stop you feeling pain but does stop you caring about it. I got absolutely sky high, thoroughly amused the midwife by talking utter rubbish, insisting on Carl playing Rammstein songs to me on his phone and dancing in the bed, I even started seeing things - including Nelson Mandela on a bicycle... blooming weird  but there you go. However, my labour was still not progressing very fast, and by the small hours of the morning, I was just too tired to continue, and the morphine made me throw up everywhere!!

I decided to have an epidural just so I could sleep through the contractions. They set it all up and took my beloved remifentanil away. But - the damned epidural didn't work!!! it was ridiculous, I dunno what happened, but they had to refit it and give me a second dose - in the mean time, I had about 45 minutes of contractions every 3 minutes, with no pain relief at all other than gas and air. I SCREAMED THE PLACE DOWN. Carl was completely freaked out, though I didn't do the stereotypical swearing at and blaming him for everything; as far as I remember, it was along the lines of "MAKE IT STTOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!!!". I honestly felt like someone was trying to saw me in half. Eventually, however, the second epidural kicked in, and I calmed down and managed to get a bit of rest.
By 10am, I was still only 7cm dilated, baby was still stressed with a high heart rate, and a consultant was called in. She said she would give me another two hours, and if I STILL wasn't fully dilated by then, they would give me a C section. I could have cried!! I sooooo didn't want a c-section, especially after suffering all that labour already. Fortunately the midwives were brilliant - like a pair of cheerleaders!! I started to get some feeling back as the epidural began to wear off, and they started encouraging me to push. By 11.15, I was 9cm dilated, and so determined, I screamed and screamed and screamed, and managed to get her out, on my own with no caesarian, no 'assistance' (ie: forceps etc) and no more drugs by 12.14!!! I did tear though, and had to have an episiotomy. I now have stitches in a place no-one should EVER have to have stitches!!!

I was soooooooo proud of myself and Carl (who had been with me the entire time) was absolutely over the moon and nearly cried. He cut the cord, and we finally got to hold our beautful little daughter. I cannot describe those emotions, it was just mindblowing. She's perfectly healthy, bright and alert, and we are all completely blissed out now!!! You don't forget the pain, you just realise it's all worth it...