Celebratory “I’ve been born!” fist pump
It’s taken me a while to post on here because, in summary, birthing a baby is bloody hard and then looking after them is bloody hard. I’ll go into a bit more detail but right there is basically the conclusion of everything I’m about to say. Birth and babies are hard. The end (not really).
But first! Let me introduce my son, Keanu Phoenix. He was born on 4 April 2016 at 15:25 weighing 9 pounds and 9 ounces. The labour was tough and the birth itself was tougher still. It was a ventouse delivery, I lost 2.5 litres of blood, HB went down to 6 and I had a second degree tear. Despite the sound of all that, it was a positive experience. The midwives and obstetrician, who delivered Keanu (and told an exhausted me to “get angry and have a baby” – just what I needed to hear), were brilliant. They kept me informed, let me know what was happening and allowed me to feel in control.
What happened during the three days after the birth was not positive. I was on the labour then the postnatal ward because of the tear and blood loss and, by the time I got home, my mental health had taken a battering. I’d slept a total of about four hours in the three days since the birth, I’d refused a blood transfusion just so I could get out of there and I had a human to look after. At some point I will write about my post- birth experience. But not now. It’s going to take me a while to process it.
Since then, however, things have been on the up. Keanu was a big boy when he came into this world and he’s continued to grow! He’s now 13lbs4 at 6 weeks and 3 days. He has started to smile and giggle and gaze at everything. He’s got a massive temper which is amusing. He really disliked having his nappy changed at first but has realised that it’s preferable process to lying in a wet one, so no longer screams the house down. He hates being cold but is getting used to having a bath (except the getting out bit but, let’s be honest, no one likes that). He is quite a good sleeper at night although likes to keep us on our toes so will sleep for five hours straight or decide that he OMG has to wake up at 4am and have a party. He likes eating. A lot. He also recently discovered his fist and gets confused between that and the boob quite a lot, which is very amusing – the only thing that can make me laugh at 4am.
Speaking of which, boob feeding is going quite well. For the first week, I was totally convinced I was doing it wrong because it HURT. “If it hurts you’re doing it wrong” was fairly well drummed into me at various breastfeeding classes. Bloody tosh. It hurt. But I was doing it right and, by the end of the second week, it had stopped hurting.
We are now slowly getting into the rhythm of daily life. I thought I was prepared for a baby but I wasn’t. It’s far and away the craziest, most amazing, hardest, trippiest trip I’ve ever been on.
And this is just the beginning.