My First Few Weeks with a New Born

I was knackered. Sore everywhere. My hormones were raging. I’d shat myself in front of my husband and at least three strangers. I remember exclaiming “I’m swimming in my own sh*t” mid-way through labour. I had probably wet myself at some point. Who knows? I had stitches in my most intimate area. My dignity had flown out the window the moment my waters had broken on our bedroom floor. And now I was responsible for a new life. What?!? Weeks after I’d given birth, I remarked to a friend that Mother Nature had made a mistake. How were women supposed to look after this new life after spending 24 hours pushing their bodies to the absolute limit? But what I have realised is, we are powerful forces of nature. I am fierce. Do not forget that.  I must not forget that.

Even after my son was born, my dignity did not return for some time. We were kept in the hospital because my son was a lazy eater. More about that another time. Therefore, my husband would often go home to shower, have a nap and bring back supplies. So, my question is, what are you supposed to do when you need the loo? I had this dilemma. I couldn’t leave the baby unattended on the ward, someone might steal him. I couldn’t take him into the toilet because of the germs. I spent so long umming and erring, I wet myself. I actually wet myself. Not my proudest moment but equally not my lowest moment either. So, of course I was mad at my husband. It was his fault I had wet myself because he had gone home to shower and sleep. It was the only logical thing. Wasn’t it?

I cried a lot in those early days. I was exhausted, overwhelmed and my hormones were everywhere. I tried to hide the tears because this was supposed to be a happy, magical time. But one of the lovely midwives caught me sobbing as I was breastfeeding. All she did was place her hand on my knee and said “This is normal. Your milk is coming in. You are tired. You are normal.” Thank god I was normal. But why did no one warn me that this would happen? Why do they not show this emotional mess on films and on social media?

Honestly, I’m in awe of Kate Middleton who can face the world’s media only hours after giving birth. And look amazing as well. I’m not even going to write about my post baby body. It’s still a work in progress and a whole blog in itself. I thought when baby came out, so would the weight. It didn’t. It hasn’t. I was left with gigantic boobs and an empty bloated tummy. Let’s just say I ordered myself some new bigger pyjamas. They were so comfy. I had completely the wrong idea how much I would be able to look after myself in those first few days. After my waters had broken, I’d demanded that my husband pack my hair straighteners and make up in my hospital bag. I didn’t use them once in the four days we were in the hospital. I didn’t even wash my hair. I did, however shower. I am extremely grateful that my sister had told me to pack flip flops into my hospital bag. If you are reading this and getting your hospital bag ready, pack flip flops for the walk to the bathroom.

Coming home to our new reality was tough. Staying in hospital for those four days meant that someone else was always looking after you and checking on baby. Someone cooked for you. Fine it wasn’t fine dining, but not having to think about what to eat, cook it and then tidy up afterwards was a godsend.  If you are pregnant and reading this, our tip is never turn down a home cooked meal. My husband and I still reminisce about the amazing Shephard’s Pie my Mum made us for our first night at home with our son. It was so good. Honestly it was the best meal I have ever eaten. It was just so wonderful. In those first few weeks we didn’t cook. We didn’t have the time. Our time was spent breastfeeding, burping, comforting baby, changing nappies, changing clothes, washing clothes, napping. And then the cycle would start again. In those first few weeks we did well if we managed to walk the 5 minutes to my sister’s house. We lived off meals that our parents and my sister made us. Honestly it was a shame when those meals stopped.

I’ll be honest when my niece was born, I couldn’t get enough of her. I thought I was helping my sister by holding her. After I’d had my own baby, I realised I wasn’t. My sister didn’t want to get chores done and make tea. She wanted to sit on the sofa, recover and hold her baby. If I wanted to be useful, I should have been making the tea and doing the chores.  I had days when I loved the visitors popping round. But there were days when I wanted to be left alone. I just couldn’t face drinking another cup of tea. What I learnt was, if I didn’t want to see people, that was ok. My body had been pushed to the absolute limit. After all I was doing well when I’d had a shower. I also learnt that if a relative / friend was holding the baby and I wanted him back, I could take him back. I was his mummy.

 They call the first 12 weeks of a baby’s life the fourth trimester. Baby really should still be in your uterus at this time. However, babies’ heads get so big that they would never get through the birth canal if they waited another 12 weeks. Suddenly my baby was thrust into this world. New sounds. New smells. New tastes. New touches. Therefore, all my son wanted to do was get as close to his ‘home,’ me, as possible. In those early days his little world was me and my boobs. I was all he knew. For 9 months he’d listened to my heart beat, my breathing, my voice. I’d kept him at the perfect temperature. He never went hungry or thirsty. He had felt so safe in my belly. But it was exhausting being the one he constantly wanted and needed. There were tears of frustration when I couldn’t leave the house to have my nails done because my son wouldn’t stop crying. But I learnt to embrace and love it. Plus, there are always people that can come to your house to do your nails. I loved the sleepy cuddles on the sofa. Binging on Netflix and chocolate during this time. People said I was making a rod for my own back by letting him nap on me. But my response was always he won’t be doing this when he’s 13. In fact, he’ll probably deny my existence when he’s 13. So, I soaked up every one of those moments. Only occasionally at 21 months does he still need cuddles at nap time. I love those days.

In those early days I worried about my son eating and gaining enough weight. Now I worry about him climbing on the dining room table and falling off.  So instead of sitting at home consulting Dr Google, who knows very little, I talked to my Mum, my sister and friends. I asked questions about everything. For me no question was too silly. The answers to those questions taught me four things that were life changing:

-          Warm the cot / moses basket before placing baby in

-          Put baby in feet first into the cot and then slowly lower their back and then lastly their head into the cot

-          To find out if they are in a deep sleep, drop their arm. If it falls slowly, they aren’t in a deep sleep. If it drops, they are in a deep sleep

-          Trust your instincts. You know baby better than anyone. If you are worried about something speak to your health visitor / GP

-          Do whatever works for baby and you

We didn’t have a clue. The morning my water’s broke, we were meant to go to a parenting class. We probably should have attended that sooner.

I also took my son to the Health Visitor’s drop in clinics. They were wonderful and so patient with me. They gave me the gentle reassurance I needed that my son, and I, were doing well. Worrying about everything is a rite of passage for any parent. According to my parents, I will never stop worrying about him. Even when he’s 38 years old and is a fully-grown human being!

My husband (Jonnie) took the full two weeks off for paternity leave and I am grateful that he did and could. He was also working in a job where he could work from home at least one day a week. I was petrified when he went back to work. Jonnie had been instrumental in getting my son to eat. My little one was such a sleepy baby that we had to wake him up every three hours to eat. My husband also helped me get my son into the correct position for breastfeeding. I was so tired I couldn’t work out where my nipple and his mouth needed to be. It was a puzzle that my brain couldn’t solve. But we did it. We survived that first day without Jonnie and the following days afterwards. I remember really worrying about breastfeeding in public. Trying to pull my bra down, release the nipple, pull my top up, whilst being careful not to flash anything, and then trying to line up my son’s mouth. It was all too much. Therefore, I tried my hardest to always time it that my little one wouldn’t need any milk whilst out. But what I forgot was, that although I had decided my son wouldn’t get hungry, he had other ideas. On a trip to the playground with my niece and sister, my son decided he was hungry. He demanded milk! So, we hurried into a café. Bra was pulled down, nipple was released, top was pulled up, son was on nipple, son was guzzling milk. We’d done it. It was amazing. No one noticed. No one saw a nipple. And my son ate till he fell asleep. After that we could go anywhere. At any time. Because my son and I could breastfeed out and about. I’m not messing around; it was one of my proudest achievements.

I’ll be honest we were in complete denial about how much the baby would impact on our lives. Before baby was born, I’d half joked that we didn’t need all the stuff because surely a baby wouldn’t need much. He could sleep in drawer. He couldn’t. That breaks every safe sleep rule out there. This tiny little thing caused absolute chaos. My sister’s Amazon Prime account got a battering. We even ended up with one of those Tommee Tippee bins. That was a waste of money. Don’t bother. If you really want one, you can have ours.

And now comes the soppy part. Those first few days, weeks, months went by in a flash of feeling overwhelmed and that I just couldn’t do this. But as I sit here, reflect and look back at photos of my tiny baby boy, I can’t help but smile at what my husband and I have created; the most incredible, gentle, cheeky, clever little boy that we could ever wish for. And we love him with every fibre of our beings.

 So, baby boy, if you are reading this at your 18th birthday party and are mortified that your Mum would go into such graphic detail about your first few weeks on Earth. Do not forget, we made you! And that deserves some respect.

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