Some very random stream of consciousness type thoughts
from someone who has had only approximately 12 hours sleep since Friday night:
I survive amazingly well on Very Little Sleep. At least most of the time and in the short term. I had a bad crash this afternoon, although that was undoubtedly also hormonal - the famous baby blues you get when everything switches over suddenly as your milk comes in. But at the moment at least I'm feeling ridiculously chipper considering it's the middle of the night and I've only had 5 hours sleep in the last 48 or so and I'm up with A Baby Who Is Not Happy Except In Someone's Arms, Preferably His Mother's. Hooray for a laptop and breastfeedling going pretty well (he's just had a feed and is dozing contentedly on my chest, leaving both hands free for typing, the ultimate luxury). And for my parents still being here until tomorrow doing all the housework and as much PB wrangling as he will tolerate from them (which unfortunately is somewhat limited as he's still ill and wanting his father the whole time and if the best is not available, then me)
Isn't it interesting that there's a genre of Birth Stories, but not one of First Few Days with Newborn, since that's just as absurdly dramatic and emotional and out-of-normal life as labour and birth.
That was a much better birth. I do want to write it up sometime.
how tempting it is to create grand narratives about the sort of person someone is, when they are less than 3 days old. And what potential power those narratives have to shape the sort of person they do then become,especially when the storyteller is the person's parent.
The Baby had his first bath today (well, apart from the huge bath through which he made his entrance into the world). Because his umbilibcal stump is a bit gunky, we put salt in the bathwater. Because his skin is terribly flaky and dry, we rubbed him with olive oil afterwards. Oil and salt are used in the rite of Extreme Unction. Not sure whether I like this symbolism or not.
Sometimes NHS paperwork, or the implementation thereof can be lovely. Because I 'caught' The Baby myself (reached between my legs and brought him up to the surface of the water) all the paperwork of his birth has 'baby delivered by [menthe-reglisse]' and 'assisted by [midwife's name]'. Although actually a more accurate reflection would be 'assisted by [D]' since the midwives were a bit spare part-y and D was essential.
On the downside of NHS paperwork - another piece said 'planned discharge from Labour Ward - 5.15am'. I queried that with the midwife today and she said that they have to pretend that all babies are born in hospital to generate a hospital number for them. At least, I think she said hospital no. she may have said NHS number, which would be even worse.
I survive amazingly well on Very Little Sleep. At least most of the time and in the short term. I had a bad crash this afternoon, although that was undoubtedly also hormonal - the famous baby blues you get when everything switches over suddenly as your milk comes in. But at the moment at least I'm feeling ridiculously chipper considering it's the middle of the night and I've only had 5 hours sleep in the last 48 or so and I'm up with A Baby Who Is Not Happy Except In Someone's Arms, Preferably His Mother's. Hooray for a laptop and breastfeedling going pretty well (he's just had a feed and is dozing contentedly on my chest, leaving both hands free for typing, the ultimate luxury). And for my parents still being here until tomorrow doing all the housework and as much PB wrangling as he will tolerate from them (which unfortunately is somewhat limited as he's still ill and wanting his father the whole time and if the best is not available, then me)
Isn't it interesting that there's a genre of Birth Stories, but not one of First Few Days with Newborn, since that's just as absurdly dramatic and emotional and out-of-normal life as labour and birth.
That was a much better birth. I do want to write it up sometime.
how tempting it is to create grand narratives about the sort of person someone is, when they are less than 3 days old. And what potential power those narratives have to shape the sort of person they do then become,especially when the storyteller is the person's parent.
The Baby had his first bath today (well, apart from the huge bath through which he made his entrance into the world). Because his umbilibcal stump is a bit gunky, we put salt in the bathwater. Because his skin is terribly flaky and dry, we rubbed him with olive oil afterwards. Oil and salt are used in the rite of Extreme Unction. Not sure whether I like this symbolism or not.
Sometimes NHS paperwork, or the implementation thereof can be lovely. Because I 'caught' The Baby myself (reached between my legs and brought him up to the surface of the water) all the paperwork of his birth has 'baby delivered by [menthe-reglisse]' and 'assisted by [midwife's name]'. Although actually a more accurate reflection would be 'assisted by [D]' since the midwives were a bit spare part-y and D was essential.
On the downside of NHS paperwork - another piece said 'planned discharge from Labour Ward - 5.15am'. I queried that with the midwife today and she said that they have to pretend that all babies are born in hospital to generate a hospital number for them. At least, I think she said hospital no. she may have said NHS number, which would be even worse.