Stopping time.

Newborn - Six Months

Yesterday good friends of ours told us the happy and exciting news that they’re expecting their first baby. Due on the 7th October. 3 days before Sophie’s 1st birthday. SOPHIE’S. FIRST. BIRTHDAY. HOLY CRAP. It feels like only yesterday I handed my hubby the positive stick and said I’m pregnant and he said “shit, already!”

I’m so excited for our friends and can’t wait for them to have their baby. But I can wait for Sophie’s 1st Birthday. In 10 days she’ll be 6 months. SIX MONTHS. Where has the time gone? What happened to my little newborn and how the hell did I end up with a six month old?!

I miss that tiny little brand new newborn baby. So tiny and well, new. When you’d hold her, like a baby, and she wouldn’t squirm. Now of course she wants to sit up all the time. When she’d fall asleep on your chest and happily stay there for hours on end if you’d let her. When she fitted into that 0000 suit that when you bought it you couldn’t believe you were going to be responsible for something so tiny. And when her poo’s didn’t smell so bad.

But now that my little newbie is giggling, grinning at me and pulling the most hilarious faces, hanging out with her really just gets better and better. Watching her do something different each day fills me with pride. Encouraging her to roll, reach out for her toys, try to sit up on her own.

Then I want it to stop. Stop time. So she can be my baby for just a little bit longer.

First Impressions

In my second year of Uni we were put into groups for a Public Relations assignment. One of the girls in my group was a loudmouth and extremely opinionated. Or so I thought. That was my first impression. Yes she was loud, but not a ‘loudmouth’, and yes opinionated, but in a confident way.

She thought I was a stuck up snob who thought she was better than everyone else. When actually I was just a little shy and stand offish until I got to know people a little better.

First impressions are funny things. The old saying of first impressions count, is no doubt true and important, especially in situations like job interviews, but are our first impressions of someone always correct?

Sometimes I think we can be too quick to judge. How do you know the girl standing quietly there doesn’t necessarily think she’s better than you, but is just shy. Or the loud girl who won’t shut up, is just bubbly, or talks alot when she’s nervous?

There’s been alot of talk on this subject around the blog world lately, thanks to the recent Aussie Bloggers Conference, which unfortunately I wasn’t able to go to as we were away on holidays. Many, well probably most of the people attending the conference were meeting Twitter and blogger friends for the first time in real life.

Had I have been able to go, I would have been a bundle of nerves! What if I was different to the impression people got of me from my blog? What if people were different to what I thought they would be?

It can take a long time to get to know someone, and most people have different aspects to their personality.

If you had 10 minutes to make a first impression on someone, what impression would you want them to have of you?

One extreme to the other.

Happy Baby!

5 and a half months ago I was tired, in agony, and practically drowning in breast milk. If you missed my initial breastfeeding saga you can read about that here, and here and here too.

Now it appears my body has gone from one extreme to the other. Last Thursday Sophie and I had, well a really shit day. She was unsettled all day. Had slept maybe 20 minutes between 6.30am and 2.30pm. As I started feeding her at about 2.40pm I suddenly wondered if she wasn’t getting enough milk. I grabbed my breast pump and pumped for nearly 10 minutes. Now in the old days I’d get close to 120ml. Not anymore it would seem. I was lucky to have gotten 5ml.

Holy shit, my milk was drying up. Completely out of no where. I was devastated. While that may sound dramatic, I was proud of where we had go to, after the initial horrible time we had. So I did what any self respescting grown woman would do. I called my husband in tears. I didn’t know what to do. I called the lovely ladies at the community health centre and felt better after our conversation.

Maybe I was just having a bad day. I persisted with trying to get Soph to feed properly. Then finally defrosted some of the frozen milk stash we had. She gulped 130ml and promptly went to sleep.

My heart sank. Here I was thinking she had wind all day and needing extra burping and that was the reason she wasn’t sleeping. Turned out she was hungry. I’ve never felt so awful in my life.

Thankfully our frozen stash got us through till mid next morning. Then I set off to find out what I could do. A friend recommended a health place, so off we went. I was given a breastfeeding tonic, which included fenugreek. The lady told me, ‘women swear by this for increasing supply’. I felt hopeful. We grabbed a tin of formula just in case.

By Friday afternoon we needed the formula. I thought the herbs just needed time to kick in, and more expressing would be the key. This morning (Saturday) I was relieved to be able to give Sophie a full feed. Unfortunately this happiness was short lived as I struggled to get enough milk for her 11am feed. Today was the day we had decided to start her on solids as well. Which for the poor little thing wasn’t the most delicious culinary experience.

If you had have asked me a week ago how long I was going to breastfeed for, my answer was quick and simple. 12 months was my goal. I know we’re lucky to have got this far and it has given Sophie a great start. It’s just sad that all of sudden my body decided that milk making was no longer it’s priority, and Sophie and I didn’t get to decide when we stopped.

I hate being in two minds about something. I’m a Libran and can’t make a decision to save my life. Do I express, take herbs, and hope my supply comes back, or take a chill pill and treat this as a new chapter and go all formula?

So we’ve come to a decision. The more I tried to express, the more stressed out I felt, and the less milk came out. I could persist and hope that my supply comes back, or we could be thankful we had 5 and a half months, and move onto a new chapter. So formula it is. That doesn’t mean I haven’t shed a few tears over no more breastfeeding.

At the end of the day all we want is a happy and healthy baby.