She’s one!

Freya, I marvel at you every day. 

 I write this as a log of a space in time, one that I will have already archived as you change daily.

Your favourite word is CAT. You say cat about 50 times a day. Everything is cat. We have numerous farm books and each animal especially if it is black/white is CAT. It is because you love our cat Pepper who I hate to say doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. I have recently taught you how to say POP to mix it up a bit. 

When you hear music or singing you wiggle your bum and dance. Even if an advert has music you start to move. You remind me of one of those sunflowers in the 80’s that dance when they heard vibrations of song. 

You have mastered the frown and scowl to a tea. Sometimes I forget that you are one. You engage your audience with your frown, you get a reaction from whoever you are toying with and then seconds later the most devious beautiful smile springs into action. It’s infectious and you know it.

You love being centre of attention, which I love to watch. On your birthday I sat next to you when they all sang to you as I thought you would be in floods of tears. If anything you relished it and clapped the singing crowd for an encore. 

 You know exactly what you want and you have so many devoted family members who adore you, you usually get it. All you have to do is reach your arm out, look in the direction of the object and then raise your eyebrows to say ‘are you going to pass me that?’. Which is probably why you’re not walking yet. You can, assisted, but you prefer to get around on your own by rolling.

You are fiercely independent. You want to drink from my glass and hold the glass. You want to hold the spoon and dip it in the yoghurt. You love your food but in particular cheese (still) – cheesey pie / grated / cheddar / Leicester / cheese flavoured snacks. And blueberries – all berries raspberries, strawberries, blackberries.

I’m now rabbling as it’s so much information that changes all the time but some things still remain. Which I guess is how the mechanics of our personalities are built. 

I’m looking forward to the next chapter my little angel. 

You can’t keep a good woman down

More to the point you can’t keep my little woman down. Ha.

Baby training mark #2 – FAIL

And do you know what, yes we hired someone, yes we lost 2 weeks of our lives and yes we nearly fell apart doing it but I’ve come out of the other side smiling.

Is my little girl a happy, intelligent, bright, humorous, energetic healthy bean – yes. Does she sleep well in the nest of her mummy and daddy? Yes. Should I stop giving a s*** about what I’m supposed to do? Yes.

I could never understand that piece of advice that said; You can’t change the way people behave but you can change your attitude to it. This always bothered me. Throwing my moral compass in a chaotic spin. No! These people are awful, these people are wrong they need to be brought to justice, we can’t take this impassive route as if no one stood up for anything what state would the world be in?

However, I feel as though I have been trying to put Freya in a box, or to put it more accurately, a rectangle with white bars and grey star embroidery. She has, through bags of determination and a trolley load of strong-will got the message to me (after a year) that she doesn’t want to sleep there.

I have been writing about my worries, my concerns and somewhere along the line I have forgotten to concentrate on the positives. The web holds all this information and what I should be logging is you. Your uniqueness. Your wondrous development. Your personality which flourishes every day.

Tying shoelaces

So, if at first you don’t succeed try, try again.

Now, as you will tell it is now January 2015, nearly a whole year since I had my little baby girl – madness. However what we are focusing on is the gap from my last blog and to this one. The reason: ZZZZzzzzzs.

As a family, we all rejected the CC method. I won’t even go into it. Freya hated it. We hated it and at some point we all hated each other for doing it, including ourselves.

I have been taking Freya to an Osteopath – ‘Laurasays’ (it’s just Laura but Dan got sick of me coming home and starting a sentence Laura says, we decided to rename her), as I was saying Laurasays that Freya due to her difficult birth had one hell of a traumatic entrance to the world and because of that, it built up tension in her neck which build up a lot of pressure = not a happy baby. I signed up for a course of 4 and she is like a different baby. I used to dread 4’o clock roll around (there is only so times you can say ‘Daddy’s coming home soon’.) but now she is a happy, contented little bean.

It turns out that Laurasays is also a sleep coach. What are the chances?

Hired.

We need professional help I’m not ashamed to admit it.

We are half way in the ‘programme’ and it is going really well. It is a much softer approach, we stay with her, support her, show her we care whilst we teach her this new valuable life skill. To quote Laurasays you don’t just hand a kid a pair of shoes and say here go tie your laces. She speaks a lot of common sense it’s hard not to quote her!

Night 9 – she sleeps in her cot / she takes 15-20 minutes to put down / cries but we don’t pick her up / cries and can put herself back to sleep / wakes frequently in the night / still has water in the night / sleeps in our room / we shush or sing her back to sleep.

Night before sleep training started – she slept in our bed / we fed her to sleep / we’d rocked her if she woke up till late at night / we didn’t know when she would naturally fall asleep / I would go to sleep with her at 7pm / she woke frequently

During this time Freya has had tonsillitis, conjunctivitis , and a common cold so the progress we are making is by Laurasays standards ‘outstanding’.

Right signing off as my laptop, with all this talk of sleep has decided to get tired and writing one letter every minute grrrrrrr (that took 8 minutes)

COME ON FULL NIGHT’S SLEEP

Toxic

Now, this title refers to CC or CIO method which can release ‘Toxic Stress’ in the baby’s brain.

Let me explain my acronyms to those of you who still have your sanity.

*Controlled Crying / *Crying it out — A method devised by Dr.Ferber (also referred to as Fiberising), where the baby is left to cry in order to learn how to self soothe without the assistance of a carer or sleeping aid i.e dummy.

I am tired people. Grumpy. Short of patience. Snarly. Unimpressed. Flat. Frustrated. Anxious. Did I say tired? Oh and also I’m completely LOSING MY MIND. My daughter (whose face lights up my whole entire world) is a bad sleeper. To those mums who are reading this who have excellent sleepers….don’t pity me. I don’t want your pity.

Freya is now 8 months old and relies on grub to get her off to sleep, a bad habit I fear I have installed and so now it is time for reprogramming. Tough love reprogramming.

Had you asked me 6 months ago if I would do controlled crying I would have thought it barbaric! Leave your child to cry? It’s practically a crime against nature. When I was young and naïve (2 months ago) I thought that all my baby needed for a good night’s sleep was cuddles and love and a sheep shaped soft toy called ‘Ewan’ that plays white noise;  I was wrong.

I write this blog today, (excuse the gap I have been A: Loving my child B: Missing my sleep C: Loving my child) as a desperate woman, one who is going to war tonight with her instincts. For the greater good. For Sanity.

Wish me luck. x

Let me just make a phone call…

Seeing as I had time on my hands I thought I would go to the doctors. I wanted to make sure my body was up to scratch for ‘the big day’.

Much like a car, since becoming pregnant something breaks down in the engine regularly, it fixes itself and then something else goes wrong. I will look forward to getting my old motor back. The one that runs well.

So as I was having my mini MOT – the doc noticed that my blood pressure was high (not surprising stress levels were rising by this point) and my sample was showing signs of preeclampsia. What is this you say?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pre-eclampsia

So the doctor just made a quick call to the hospital. She spoke to one nurse. And another and then finally another.

‘Amanda I’m going to have to ask you to go to the hospital. Just for a check up.’

Ok. This is what happens next and I can assure you it happened this fast.

I went to the hospital.

Checked for preeclampsia.

I don’t have preeclampsia but though whilst I was there I would show her a picture of something similar to that of my show I didn’t know what it was.

Could be my waters rupturing.

I have a scan.

My waters have ruptured.

I’m strapped up to a machine.

Nothing happens.

I read a book.

I’m booked in to be induced the next day.

THIS IS IT I’m HAVING MY BABY. The day is Wednesday. I’m getting induced on Thursday.

 

Up periscope

So I have surfaced…just…vomit stained, happy and weary. My little girl is here and she certainly has her mummy and daddy in a spin.

We are approaching week 7 and my my what a rollercoaster these past few weeks have brought.

I know what you all want to know…the burning question that is on all my friend’s lips…?

‘How was the birth??’ ‘Is it really as bad as they say?’

First of all I will pick up where I left off.

My last blog explained that ‘my show’ had come and I can tell you what happened after that…

NOTHING. Big fat NOTHING. This was not a highlight of pregnancy. I had told all the family and friends it’s happening soon, cancel all engagements, pack the hospital bag and let’s get everything ready for the babies arrival. She’s coming.

2 WHOLE WEEKS – waiting – like a watched pot that doesn’t boil – a pregnant women waiting for her waters to break.

Fear of going to Asda and going into labour. Fear of being so far away from the hospital that I’d have it in someone’s bathroom. Anxiety isn’t the word. Not to mention the turmoil of ‘will I cope?’ ‘how will I know?’ ‘what do contractions feel like?’ ‘how painful is it?’.

Turns out it didn’t come naturally…

“Don’t go climbing Ben Nevis”

So…it has been all going on over the past few days…first signs, change of heart on where to have her, nesting instinct, total lack of sleep and house arrest.

We had our second antenatal class on Thursday of last week and from that day onwards it’s been mentally overwhelming.

Before, my days existed of what I like to call baby-land prep…’best changing bag’…’nursery colours’…reviews on Amazon on the best monitors (ooo Angelcare or TOMY digital etc), which formula to use if she doesn’t take my milk? ~ bidding for a baby bundle on ebay for £10 – oh how I wish I could go back to that. Safe zone.

On Friday morning, I had what they very politely call ‘my show’. I won’t go into detail as it will just be TMI – but it was one of those moments in life where everything changed. Is this really it? I took a picture (I know gross) and took to my midwife’s appointment that day.

I was being tested for gestational diabetes as from 2 weeks ago – I go to the toilet about 10-12 times a day, drink about 3 pints of water (unheard of) and have spots in front of my eyes and waves of exhaustion. All signs that it could be gestational diabetes.

So as I’m talking this through with the midwife…when is the right time to ask her for confirmation of my pic?!?

Midwife: When did you last have the spots?

Me: Erm only once on Weds when I stood up too fast.

Midwife: And have you had any pains?

Me: Well yes I had some period cramps at the antenatal class yesterday at the front and back…but…erm..actually more pressing than that I think ‘my show’ has come.

Midwife and junior midwife exchange an excited look!!!

Midwife: Ok what did it look like?

Me: Well…I actually have a photo but I know that is just miniging to show you.

Midwife: Believe you me, we have seen worse than ‘minging’ in our time.

As I get the photo up and show them, they both express genuine giddy excitement.

Midwife: Yes it is, well done for spotting as a lot of women miss this, it is a sign that everything is moving in the right direction.

Me: So labour could be round the corner??????

Midwife: It is a sign of pre-labour but it could be hours, days or weeks. What I will say is though don’t go anywhere too far…don’t go climbing Ben Nevis.

From that moment on….mentally it has all changed….it’s all very serious and real.

I’m going to go into labour and deliver this baby.

The question is……when?

36 weeks and 2 days.