Week 9 madness
why are you laughing at my boob
The top level finding: this week was bizarre. Things felt slightly easier but not consistently — still lots of fussiness and my partner entering a busy period at work so more general stress in the household. I’ve been watching Love Island and huge amounts of Queens tennis tournament. Thank god for a normal temperature (although at time of writing another godforsaken heatwave approaches, ARGH).
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Catchphrase this week: ‘she’s being a little maniac’. Very very alert, bopping her head around, wild kicking and clambering.
My partner, holding the baby up against him while she pumps her legs: oh she’s clambering
MP: is it clambo time
MP, as she bonks her head against his chest: clambo slambo
MP, to me: That’s her wrestling name
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A little greaseball. We wash her hair in the bath. Moments later it’s greasy again.
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8 week jabs! I was so worried, having read horror stories about people getting fevers and having to go to hospital and so on. But was very reassured by some other mums at cake club last week, and of course, it was fine. Although once again, received no sticker from the GP even though we were all really brave, wtf.
The sequence: first jab, cry three times, second jab, cry three times, oral vaccine, cry briefly, administer Calpol, straight to sleep. What a champ. She was so sleepy all day afterwards and the next day — which was, in fact, lovely.
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I’ve started calling her sweetie, pronounced schweedie. Also: sweetie baby.
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A data round up, as I’ve stopped diligently tracking her feeds on the app this week: I’ve spent 178 hours breastfeeding, about five working weeks if, like me, your usual workday is 9-5 with a lunch break. So of the eight weeks of her life so far, I’d spent five working weeks feeding her. Tell me again how breastfeeding is “free”.
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Watching the tennis while feeding her and experienced a swift punch to in the throat. Excuse me madam. God forbid I take my eyes off you for one moment.
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Sleep has been wildly inconsistent. First, a night with four hours sleep in a row. Then SIX hours in a row. What the actual hell. I’ve never felt less well rested, because obviously I woke up after three hours needing to feed her and then just lay awake watching the little swaddled burrito like, what? Then several days of horrible sleep. I’ve felt more exhausted this week than I have yet — please god tell me my hormones aren’t wearing off?? I need them. I miss our routine of six hours sleep with one peaceful, easy wake up in the middle. I could handle that no problem.
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Another La Leche League meeting. Really lovely again, and once again filled with love and affection for women and for community. Lots about slow weight gain at this meeting, as several people were facing that with their babies and had come for advice. Reminds me to be grateful that the baby is doing well, despite the yelling and activity, and breastfeeding being a bit harder again.
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Witching hour has felt different. Some horrible screaming sessions. Some calm evenings. Everything is madness. One screaming session was so horrible it made my sister cry — ‘she looks so sad.’ Yep! It is the fucking worst. Bring on a functioning digestive system, PLEASE.
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Successful bath time with some smiles!! Joy joy joy.
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Sometimes she’s mouthing and we think she wants feeding, so I offer her a boob and then she just stares at it and smiles and laughs, as if they’re sharing a private joke. “Oh, this guy again! He gets it.” Why?