Mothers Day (a few months late, I know!)

Did I ever tell you about Mothers Day?

It seems that the husband had a case of the guilts after forgetting our anniversary (the convo went like this: "Happy anniversary B". "Don't scare me like that April......(a brief pause)......oh."), and realised that the best way to rectify this situation was to go all out.

Wise move husband. Wise move.

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What is in a name?

(Eliza Rose, found from here)

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Last night I learned that our family has welcomed a new little boy into the world, by the way of my husbands cousin. A new life is a prescious thing, and with a new life comes a name.

The name that his parents chose for their special gift just happens to be the name we had chosen for a son, if we were ever blessed with one.

And whilst I am happy for the husbands cousin (who I don't know very well, I think I have met her less than fice times in eight years), I am sad for the fact that we won't be able to ever use that name.

The name is a family name to me, and is the name of my great grandfather, a man who I idolised growing up. My Pa and I had a special bond, quite possibly because I was the only great grandchild he had. I have fond memories of him telling me the story of Jane Duff, a story which holds special meaning to him, as he lived close by.

But this got me thinking about Shakespeare, and how we put so much meaning into a word by which we call ourselves. Why do we put so much emphasis on a word, that is shared with quite possibly millions of other people in the world. Take my name, April. Whilst it is reasonably uncommon, it is not unique. The reasoning I was named April quite possibily is, however the word is not.

The logical side of my brain is yelling at me to move on, yet I still feel sad. The husband doesn't see the great deal and is still happy to use the name, as we rarely see them. But to me it's just not the same.

What do you think?



For those wondering, I was named April after my Great Gran and my Grandma being born in April, and my mother meant to be born in April. When I came along in July I had to follow the trend of the previous 3 generations, and was given the name to carry on. Pin It

Monday to Friday

I have had a few emails the last few days asking how I am going with returning to full time work. In short, we're all coping well, so far.

Working full time is not without its challenges to a regular person, throw an almost one year old into the mix and it becomes a little more tricky.I am incredibly lucky that the staff at Eliza's daycare centre are amazing, and are more than willing to fill in the blanks when I can't do something.

Our days look like this

6am - I get up and get ready for work. I generally pack Elizas bag the night before, but still need to get her bottle from the fridge in the morning, make sure she has a bunny etc.
6.30am - I wake Eliza and get her dressed for daycare.
6.50am - Eliza and I get in the car and drive the 15 minutes to daycare. We drink our morning bottle in the car on the way (hers = milk, mine = coffee)
7.05am - Arrive at daycare, talk with her carers for the day, check on how she is going developmentally etc, if there is anything to be changed etc.
7.20am - Kiss the girl goodbye. In 6 weeks she has cried once when I left. Every other time she hasn't given two hoots that I am leaving her. Makes me feel loved.
8am to 4.30pm - I pack as much into my work day as humanly possible. I rarely take my lunch break, knowing that the time is better spent doing other things.
5.10pm - I arrive at daycare and collect her belongings, chat with the night staff, collect any memos and finally claim my nightly cuddle and kiss.
5.30 - Eliza and I get home, where we play in the ktichen, whilst I try to prepare something edible for dinner. Whilst that is cooking we play games together, practice walking and other developmental things.
6-6.30pm - Dinner.
6.45pm - Bath.
7.00 - 7.30pm - quiet play time in the lounge. Eliza isn't one to sit still and listen to a story, so we play with her trucks, make up stories and generally just hang out together.
7.30pm - Bottle, night nappy, hugs and kisses and into bed.

Then the real fun begins, I start the washing, preapre things for the next day, try to get some housework done, catch up with friends online and update the blog.

Some days our systems work. Somedays they don't. But tomorrow is always another day to try to make things right. Where our system comes unstuck is when I need to have extra things done, like buy birthday presents, organise family events etc. Thank goodness for technology!

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The Guilt

For a long time I have been carrying around guilt, over many things. Silly things that i know are beyond my control, yet the guilt is still there.

I feel a huge amount of guilt that I got pregnant when friends didn't. I am all to aware that it wasn't an easy ride for the husband and I, and that we got VERY lucky one month when the odds were all stacked against us. Whilst our journey wasn't easy, friends of mine have it tougher.

Because of this guilt I never enjoyed pregnancy. It freaking hurt my body. For the first 15 weeks I was that sick that I have no idea if I had morning sickness or not, as I couldn't keep anything down. It wasn't until I had surgery to remove my band that I felt somewhat human. That surgery brought a whole new type of guilt to the table, as I put my poor little baby under so much stress by forcing her to have major surgery. I owe everything I have to my amazing surgeon and anethesisist. Around 22 weeks pregnant my pelvis gave out and I wished away my pregnancy just so I could walk 100m without being in crippling pain. The guilt of being able to experience pregnancy was not lost on me.

When Eliza arrived the guilt disappeared for a little while, whilst I was lost in the world of sleepless nights and constant feeding. It returned when she was around 3 months and I realised I wasn't really enjoying this gig. I hated being home all day with her, hated how much of an effort it was to go anywhere, and how alone I felt in the world. The guilt stopped me from telling anyone how I felt though, as I had everything I wanted. All I ever wanted was a baby, and here she was. I eventually broke down and got some help, but it wasn't really the help I needed. I needed my baby to start sleeping properly, not to be shipped off to daycare during the day. And as it was, the guilt still stopped me from complaining, so I was discharged from the mental health service as being "perfectly fine". It's easy to be fine for someone once a fortnight for an hour, and to pretend that everything is fine and dandy. It's harder to carry it out at 3am in the morning when nothing you do will calm your screaming child.

As time wore on, and we did our stint at sleep school things started to get better, but the guilt was still there. Right now the guilt trip inside my head is about returning to work full time. Along with having got pregnant, having not enjoyed pregnancy, wishing away the first 9 months of Eliza's life and never wanting to give her a sibling. And that doesn't even include the guilt that everyone else lays on me.

Whilst it might seem like I have everything together, don't assume that I do. I carry this huge ball of guilt in my core that stems from getting lucky one month and actually catching that damn egg. Who knows, maybe by the time I am 80 I will have moved on from the guilt?

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Eliza vs Lucy

I promise I am a watchful parent, however I don't intend on being a helicopter parent either. So after many times of telling Eliza to leave the cat alone, I had to film this.

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My gift to Eliza

I received an email this morning from Pinkie McKay about special gifts that we can give our children (and each other). It touched me deeply, and I wanted to share it with you.

* Self confidence: Help your child understand and accept that nobody can be approved of all the time, and when she encounters disapproval she needn't feel immobilised, that she much trust herself, not the opinions of others. Give this gift with a hug.

*Possibilities: Give children the freedom to be anything they choose, rather than limit them by labels or roles. Teach them by example that a boy or girl can sew or play football, cry or be brave, mow lawns or do dishes. Give this gift with a smile.

*Life without needless fear: Encourage children to become 'doers' by showing them that you will tackle problems and not be a worrier yourself. Give this gift with a laugh.

*The gift of loving: Encourage children to be fully alive in every way. Allow them to have adventures, a chance for laughter, fun, creativity. Give them the supreme gift of being able to find happiness in virtually all circumstances. Give this gift everyday through the year.

Whilst for so many little children Christmas is about gifts, I want to teach Eliza that there is more to it than just a present under a tree.


PS: If you are a parent I highly recommend Pinkie. She is a down to earth person who encourages you to have confidence in yourself and your own parenting ways, rather than following some strict guidelines set out in a book. She has helped me many times and I highly recommend you sign up to her emails. Pin It

Confession Time

I struggle with being a parent on a daily basis, and part of that is because I don't think I am good enough. Someone always seems to be giving me advice and telling me I am doing it wrong. Strangers, friends and family all do it. Family are the worst though. They cut deep with their criticism.

It has taken me to realise that no matter what I said I was doing, it would always be wrong, as it isn't their way. Somdays you just can't win.
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Being a Mummy is hard

I didn't have the easiest time getting pregnant, our fertility troubles were the hardest thing I had ever faced. I learnt a lot about myself, my husband, and our marriage. I never once thought that getting pregnant would be the easy part!

I really did think I was prepared for life with a newborn. I expected to be up at all hours of night, I expected to change dirty nappies and I expected to get the Day 3 Blues (oh yeah, they came. My poor Obs found me hysterical one morning reading the birth report - which was stupid as I have a complication free delivery). I read the books, went to classes and watched other parents.

And then Eliza arrived and everything I thought I knew went out the window. The first few weeks we ok, I was living on adrenalin. When I complained I was tired I didn't know that I could be even more tired than that. Each week brought a new level of exhaustion. A new level of self confidence that was just that little bit lower than the week before.

I do it easier than some, but I still do it tougher than others. Majority of weeks the husband leaves at 7.30am on Monday morning and comes home at 7.00 Friday night. My mum works shiftwork and might call in once a week if I am lucky, and I don't have friends that can really call in as they have their own lives to lead. Most days I cope, but some days I don't. Somedays I just want to run away and not come back, because that just seems easier.

Funny how they don't tell you this in the books though.

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Breastfeeding is...

Disclaimer: I have no qualms about using formula, hell Eliza gets the occasional formula feed every now and then when I need a break, and I don't believe that it has any impact on a child's development. Not everyone can breastfeed for many different reasons, and they shouldn't be judged for that. We all do the best for our children, and any food source is better than none. For me though, I wanted to breastfeed my child until 6 months. I have no idea why I picked 6 months, just seemed like a good point to reassess everything.

Not at all what I expected.

When I was pregnant I was naive. Baby+boob=fed baby. Plus the 'breast is best' brigade shove their knowledge down your throat like there is no tomorrow. I knew it would be uncomfortable for the few few weeks, but I would get used to it and all would be dandy.  I figured I could get around feeding in public by buying wraps and covers to shield us, and if all else failed, I researched feeding rooms in every place I would possibly be going. It was going to be grand.

And then reality set in. I had some fantastic nurses at my hospital who helped me every step of the way. I would push the little green button each feed and they would come and watch and tell me if I was doing it right. And by their standards I was. I felt like a pro. I even managed to feed in front of friends and family.

And then we went home and reality set in. Reality that had me in tears every time she latched on. Each feed would require a huge number of latchings, which I thought was normal. No-one ever told me otherwise, and I just continued. Then it got harder, she would only latch on for two sucks and come off. Rinse and repeat. That made feeding in public the most uncomfortable I have ever been in my life. Lots of people looking up my clacker whilst I shoved a head out of my private parts was fine. People judging me as I tried to feed my screaming child in Ikea whilst juggling a wrap was not so fine. As the final straw, I had a case of mastitis that saw me fall in a heap on the floor, considering giving up.

Sadly my stupid pride stood in my way and stopped me from quitting, and I saw a Lactation Consultant who announced that Eliza had a tongue tie which wasn't helping, and I had flat nipples which also wasn't helping. Did you know that all nipples aren't the same, and that they can be flat? No, neither did I! But help was at hand, and I started using nipple shields. I reasoned with myself that I would make it to 2 months, then four.

Nipple shields are not ideal, they can apparently decrease your milk supply, require washing and are messy (or maybe I just have a sloppy eater?). But they are a means to an end. And it means that my nipple is now three times as long as it originally was, so there are less latchings to be dealt with. That said I will still take a feeding room over public, but if need be, I will flash everyone a boob for free.

At four months now, I am ok with my choice. My supply isn't as much as it used to be, but that also could be it self regulating itself. To make sure I have enough I express each night, just in case. There will come a day when I do give up, and it will be not that far away, but for now I am content.

And that is all we can ask for in life.

This post was inspired by my friend Amy over at Thinks I Never Knew. See what she has to say about breastfeeding her second child.

PS - Think my breastfeeding my daughter is pornographic? Deal with it, boobs were a food source before they were your funbags. Pin It

Eliza - 2 months

Weight: 5.02kg
Height: 58cm

Feeding: You have started to cut back on your feeding times as you have become a very efficient feeder. What used to take us 40 minutes is now done in 20. The health nurses are very happy with how you are developing, and you are meeting all of your milestones a week or so than they say you should be. 

You have had silent reflux, which was ignored by doctors for some time. Mummy knew something wasn't right, as you would cry and scream in pain for hours on end. Some nights we couldn't even get you to lay down enough to feed. It was heartbreaking to watch and lead her to finding Lardners Colic Relief which contained a natural antacid. It changed you completly and from that we started you on Zantac. 

Sleeping: We are continually amazed at how well you have worked out night and day, and are absolutly thrilled thast you are rewarding us with longer night sleeps. We now average between 6-8 hour stints over night, and mummy generally only has to get up once overnight. A lot of our mummy friends are very jealous of us, though it does mean you don't sleep as much during the day. Mummy and Daddy are willing to deal with that though.

Personality: You have started to smile, saving your biggest grins for mummy first thing in the morning. You have quickly worked out that by greeting mummy with a lovely big smile you will be met with an even bigger smile and a loving cuddle. You have also started to babble away to yourself and will often have a conversation with Lucy the cat.

Looks: You continue to stop complete strangers with your hair. Everyone loves to comment on it and marvel at how much of it there is. I can barely get through an aisle in the supermarket without someone stopping me to discuss it in great detail. We have brought clips for your hair, but mummy never remembers to put them in. We struggle to get rid of your mow hawk at the moment, your hair just needs to grow that little bit more, so most days you look like a very startled baby with hair standing straight up!

You continue to be a tall child, taking after your dad. You have outgrown many of your newborn clothes and now are wearing 000's.

Activities: Bath time has become one of your favourite times to share with mum and dad, and you often scream when we get you out as you want to continue floating and kicking. After a bath we often massage you with a lovely cream (Little Innocents Massage Cream) which you seem to enjoy if the giggles and smiles are an indication.

This month you have started to enjoy your rocker more, and spend a bit of time staring at the magazines and books on the bookshelf in the lounge room. Due to your reflux we sit you in it after a feed to help the yucky acid stay down. Somedays you will happily sit there and chat with the lady/man bugs that are on the toy bar, though you get cranky at them after 10 minutes of them not talking back to you, and start kicking your legs which makes them dance, and makes you giggle.

This month saw you take another trip to Melbourne, and you stayed in another hotel. You were a perfect little girl and allowed us to go out to a swish steak restaurant whilst you slept the whole time. You made your first trip to both the Apple Store and Tiffany's.


Every day our love for you grows and we can't wait to watch you grow into the beautiful little girl we know you will be.

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Parenting According to April

Like most first time mums, I was a little naive. Naive about the birth, and very naive about what my child would or wouldn't do. When pregnant I made statements like "my child will never have a dummy", "I will breastfeed and not use formula" and "Routines are best, my child will stick to a routine" and my personal favourite of the day "my child will only be in disposables for the first box of nappies, then it is all cloth".

Now, I don't judge anyone else for their parenting style or decisions, never have and never will, these were statements I was making for my own child and myself, and have broken in the last 7 weeks. "My child, my way"is very much my motto.

The dummy thing lasted until that first night when we got home and she would not stop screaming. I cried giving it to her, and sighed when she spat it out again. Since then she has taken it, but it is only when she is unsettled, especially when in the car. Silent child = safe and stress free driving mumma.

The no formula statement lasted for the first two weeks, then I got gastro and mastitis at the same time and basically banished myself from the small one. I kept on expressing, but as I wasn't well and very dehydrated, my supply dipped a bit and we moved to formula. I cried yet again. Through sheer determination, against advice from my very "breastfeeding is the only option" mum, I continued pumping and got my supply back up and Eliza continued on breastmilk and is still going with it. I know it wouldn't be the end of the world if she was on formula, some mornings at 4am I wish she was, but I really wanted to give breastfeeding a good crack and wasn't quite ready to give up just yet.

Routine in our household? What routine? We don't have one, and I am good with that. Makes for some interesting trips in the car, especially when you are required to breastfeed in a truck stop on the side of the freeway in amongst a bikie gang, but hey, it didn't kill me and it fed my child.

Nappies? Yeah, well at the moment we are avoiding looking at that giant bag of cloth nappies in the corner of Eliza's room. It all seems a little bit too hard right now, and sposies are a lot more convenient. I have tried them in the last week, but they make my baby girl look massive! I am trying to use one nappy a day and slowly build it up, but we will see on that one.

Being a mum is the hardest thing I have ever done, and I have cried many tears in the last 7 weeks. I am still not convinced I am good at it, nor do I know what I am doing, but in the words of one of my best friends today, I "am doing it, and she is happy and healthy, and that is all that matters". Wish that bloody mother guilt would piss off though!!!
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