Letter to a new mother

Dear new mother

Everyone will say 'congratulations' and you should rightly feel proud of yourself.  You just made a new human being.  They will usually follow the congratulatory remarks with a searching "and how are you?". They will study you for signs of cracking.  It's absolutely okay to get a little teary and say you're overwhelmed and confused most of the the time, not to mention exhausted.

Those who are already parents will tell you to "enjoy it - they grow up so fast".  As if they enjoyed every waking, shitting moment with their precious little bundle.  What they mean to say is to savor it.  Savor the highs and the lows.  Let the lows wash over you and tell yourself, repeatedly, this too shall pass.  And savor and celebrate the highs, commit them to memory, or better yet, take a photo.

There will be days when getting out of your pyjamas is a superhuman feat.  Put it on your 'to do' list and tick it off so you feel like you've achieved something.

Time in the shower, or even on the toilet, has suddenly become a precious commodity.  Sorry but I have no solutions here.  Console yourself with the thought that you're doing the planet some good by saving water.  Take evening baths with your baby.  Make up for lost shower time when you visit your parents or in-laws.

Everyone will tell you to "sleep when your baby sleeps". I say do whatever the hell you want while your baby sleeps - this might be your only chance today to take a shower.

Strangers will want to hold your baby, or touch his cheeks, hands or feet.  I have no solutions here either.  Give over that baby and enjoy a break.  Watch those grandma-looking types - they usually know a thing or two about holding a baby - you might learn something.  

Most days you will have moments of misery and moments of triumph.  You will be baffled when the trick you used yesterday fails to work today.  

Learn to laugh at yourself.  Tell stories about your worst days and have a laugh. Tell them to other mothers - let your guard down and get some perspective.

You may not get to the end of every day in the same clothes.  Or if you do make it, by the end of the day, forgive yourself your dignity if you're covered in splotches of milk, drool and baby vomit.

You'll be baffled, repeatedly, by the question, 'is he a good baby?'. As if babies either come out innately 'good' or 'bad'.  What they mean to ask is whether your baby is an easy baby. To which you might answer "mostly".

I also want to tell you that it's okay to feel like you might throw your baby out the nearest window because he's been fussing and crying for three hours straight and you still haven't had a god-damned shower or gotten out of your pyjamas.  In these circumstances you also need to know that no harm ever came to a baby who was put in a safe place and left to fuss for 10 minutes while her mother has a cup of tea or a quick shower.

Contact with other parents with babies will save your sanity.  Or at the very least, should give you an excuse to get out of the house.  But don't engage in the parental one-upmanship that can sometimes be a feature of conversations at mum's groups.  Your baby might sleep through the night, or even sleep for more than three hours in a row at night.  Even if you want to shout it from the rooftops, remember that the mother sitting next to you is on the edge of sanity as she hasn't slept in three days and keep it to yourself.  Tell your parents, grandparents and anyone else who doesn't have a baby in the house.

Go easy on yourself.  Your number one job is to be a parent, not to run around like a blue-assed fly ticking off jobs on your maternity leave to do list and getting all manner of household chores done.  If your baby wants to sleep on you all day, slow down, forget about the washing, vacuuming and ironing, and savor the feeling of his gorgeous little body snuggled on your chest.  Try not to feel guilty when your partner arrives home and the house looks the same as when he left that morning.  Don't imagine he's looking around thinking "what the hell has she been doing all day?".  He'll realise exactly what the hell you do all day on Saturday when it's him stuck on the couch with a sleeping baby on his chest.

The God particle: may or may not be
related to whether your baby sleeps.

Accept the fact that the buck stops with you. You're his one and only.  You know his cries, his faces, his noises and his needs.  You know the special rhythm that will ensure his descent into lala-land faster than anyone else.  You know the bounce or special move that will get a burp.   You get him.  

Take comfort from the thought that all your rocking and bouncing is burning calories.  You can finish your meal or your cup of tea later.

Above all else, don't try to solve the mystery of baby sleep.  It's the parental equivalent of discovering the God particle. 

Keep calm and carry on.

xx 

P.S. I have so much more to tell you, but I know you'll work it all out for yourself.  Go you!

Strange conversation #2: What school will he go to? and other silly questions

A conversation with an acquaintance last week:

"So what school will he go to?"
"Not sure.  He's only one so we've got plenty of time to think about it."
"Not really.  You should get onto it."
"Hmm"   [I'm wondering how deciding on, and enrolling in, a primary school will take 4 years]
"Are you Catholic?"
"No"
"Oh that's too bad... the Catholic school in this suburb is really good.  I've sent all my children there."
"Really?" [Feigning interest]
"Are you sure you're not Catholic?  I really thought you were Catholic for some reason."
"No definitely not.  Well, probably not Catholic enough to enroll in that school anyway." [I'm trying to help her out here...]
"But aren't you Greek?"
"Nope."
"Huh, I thought you were Greek, and you know, Catholic." [Greek? Catholic?  Whuck?]
"Nope, I can't claim any Greek heritage."
"Well anyway, you'll need to start thinking about what school to send him to." [Phew! Back on safe ground.]
"Yes definitely." [I thought about mentioning Montessori, but bit my tongue thinking that would really confuse things.]


I think I'll just concentrate on surviving creche for now...

Motherhood lesson #2

How to pee in a public toilet while wearing your baby in a backpack.

So you've just got the damn pack on your back and suddenly you need to pee.

Step 1: Wedge yourself and your baby into a toilet cubicle, taking care to lock the door behind you.  No one needs to see you do this.

Step 2: Attempt to sit on the throne in the normal fashion.  You can't can you?  Because the baby-filled backpack is jammed up against the wall behind you, and your tush is not sitting where it should be.

Step 3: Think for a minute.  Employ your once amazing problem solving skills (they were amazing until you went for about 256 nights without decent sleep).

Step 4: Turn around and sit on the throne backwards.  Straddle it, in other words.  Hey, it actually makes no difference.  Though in case you're wondering, there are actually wrong ways to use a toilet:

"Flowchart" in Massey University bathrooms

Step 5: Congratulate yourself on having conquered another perennial motherhood dilemma, without having taken the wretched backpack or baby off your back.

Step 6: Give a smug smile to the people giving you strange looks as you come out of the bathroom.  Bet they couldn't work it out!

Motherhood lesson #1

Never, I repeat NEVER, undo a nappy without wipes handy, unless you know exactly what's inside...

I was getting Milkbaby ready for his bath.  He was standing, almost naked, at the bath, excitedly leaning over and watching it pour.  I blithely whipped off his nappy, only to be greeted by... yes you guessed it... a GIANT poo.

Obviously my sense of smell had failed me.

I looked around the bathroom for the wipes, knowing that they were handily tucked in my handbag.  Beginner's mistake.

Before I had finished yelling "Darling I need some help in here!!!", Milkbaby had somehow gotten himself covered, from head to toe, in poo.  I'm not joking.  He'd reached down and spread the poo over his cheek and into his hair.  I immobilised his poo-covered fingers, but then he decided to use his feet to spread it.

And then somehow, there was poo on the bathroom floor, poo on Milkbaby's fresh bath towel and poo on me.  It took two of us to clean him up enough to be able to put him into the bath.  Somehow he knew not to drink the bathwater.

And so I repeat: never NEVER de-nappy a child without wipes handy, unless you know what's inside (or not inside) that nappy.

Square carrots: adventures in solids

As his nickname might suggest, Milkbaby's a tits man.  He continues to show very little interest in food.  Mealtimes for him range from being a boring distraction to a form of unusual torture.   During which time he practises smushing the finger food I've given him, dropping things from his high chair, blowing water and food raspberries, and garroting himself with his bib (he hates bibs with a passion, and I don't really blame him).

Thinking, somewhat simplistically, that better eating = better sleeping, I called the Well Child nurse in desperation.

"He's not really eating that well." I said, fighting back tears.

"I'd better come for a visit, and watch you feed him.  Then we can make sure his mouth is working."

"Right.  Okay."

"Do you have baked beans?  We can give him some baked beans for lunch."

"Ahm, no, I haven't given him baked beans yet.  I thought they were a bit sugary and salty."

"Well maybe scrambled eggs then.  What kind of baby food are you giving him?  Does it have carrots in it?"

"Um, err, (fumbling with a jar and searching for the "correct" answer), well I mostly give him homemade stuff and yes I do sometimes give him steamed carrots."

"Okay, good.  It's just there's a brand of baby food that has square carrots.  Babies don't like square carrots."

"Umm, right. No I don't think I've been giving him square carrots."

At this point I was thinking "SQUARE CARROTS?!  I think the problem is bigger than [insert inappropriate swearwords here] square carrots!!"

www.squarecarrots.com

And so she visited.  And we watched Milkbaby:

• smush finger food
• drop things from his high chair
• blow water and food raspberries
• garrotte himself with his bib.

Then she said "have you heard of baby lead weaning?"

Given all the finger food at Milkbaby's fingertips, I just about said "yes I have, have you?"  Instead, I just said "uh huh" (extreme fatigue was setting in by this point).

Finally she said "well his mouth is working fine, and he seems to know what to do - you might just try giving him three meals in the afternoon.  Lunch, afternoon tea and dinner."

I smiled and nodded.  It's the best response in these types of situations.

Strange conversation #1: Advice well meant

When you're pregnant, all sorts of people give you well meaning advice.  As I mentioned in my last post, I think it's probably a taboo of the secret society of parenthood for older males to give unsolicited advice about breastfeeding to the uninitiated (and especially if you're a stranger - or just strange).

I was browsing the pregnancy books in an op-shop in a small town, when I noticed a short, older man browsing the books near me.  He sidled up to me and started asking the usual questions (when are you due? do you know what you're having? etc).  He then started talking about breastfeeding, saying that it was obviously the most healthy and natural way to feed a baby.  I nodded and smiled, agreeing that yes I was planning to breastfeed.  This is where the conversation should have ended, and I could have gotten back to browsing the preggy books.  But no, the man launched into graphically describing how best to get a baby to latch, his hands fondling the breasts of his jacket while he talked.  

Old guy: "before a feed, you express a bit of milk, then rub it around the areola [picture his hands demonstrating that action], and maybe even put a little bit of milk on baby's lips - baby will be able to smell the milk and will be really interested in feeding.  Then when baby's mouth is wide open, you just pop baby onto your nipple."  [more demonstrating]

Me: "uh-huh" [red-faced and wildly looking around the shop for my husband].

Old guy: "I bet you're wondering how I know so much about breastfeeding."

Me: "erm, yes I guess I am actually"

Old guy: "I am a student of medicine, among other things, and I've learnt all about breastfeeding"

Me: "Really?  Well, thanks very much for that information - very useful.  I'd better go - oh there's my husband - it looks like he's wanting to get going."  [finally spotted DH - here that stands for Damn Husband - engrossed in checking out the kitchenware, oblivious to my need for rescue and not looking at all interested in leaving the shop]

I took my leave of the man with a friendly smile.  There are just some things you shouldn't talk to strangers about, even if you're a student of medicine and are very learned in such matters.

Is yours a contented little baby?

Ahh, "The Contented Little Baby", seemingly one of the most controversial parenting books of the last decade, and, if you've read it, it's either your bible or the devil's work.  Even if you haven't read it you've probably got an opinion on it.

Ok so I'll admit to having read it, when, after six weeks of at least 2 feeds a night, I was looking for that Holy Grail of motherhood - sleep (more on this later).  I also wanted to be able to have an informed opinion on it when the heated debates at coffee group started.

So I opened its pages with interest, and skim read to the part that related to the routines of a six week old.  In the opening paragraph of this section was a sentence which went along the lines of "If your baby is over 4kg, he should be sleeping through to 7am from his last feed at 10pm."  Umm, what if your baby was over 4kgs at birth?  I looked for the answer but found none.  My heart fell as I realised this book would not be the panacea I was looking for.

That sums up my experience of The Contented Little Baby.  It raised more questions for me than it answered, and there was no indication on what to do if your baby didn't follow the routines set out in the book.  If baby wakes after only an hour of a two-hour nap, are you supposed to try and get him back to sleep?  What if he feeds for only 10 minutes and refuses more?  And what if I'm too exhausted to give him his evening bath?  Will the baby implode?

On days when he did follow the prescribed routine, I felt like a total supermum (and just a little but haughty), and on days when he didn't (and these were more common), I felt a bit inadequate.

I'll admit, however, that the book contained some useful information, and I can see that it would be great for ideas for parents who are really lost and struggling.  Reading it helped me realise that I'm not.