Last Saturday was speech therapy time again. We decided to go back to fortnightly visits, after having a four week break encompassing Easter and Hugo’s arrival.
The lesson two weeks’ ago was excruciating. Our speech therapist had alot of great activities lined up for Jarvis, but it was almost too much excitement for him as he attempted to flit between the toys and games, all the while keeping his mouth firmly shut. I was cradling our one week old boy and began to feel slightly panicky as I started to wonder how we would make any more progress with our strong-willed 2 1/2 year old. Continue reading
Life with a newborn is a reminder to slow down when life has a tendency to go too fast.
First time around I fought against the slow lane for too long, trying to cram in too much into those small windows of opportunity. Trying to do it all, keep all those balls in the air, while in alot of ways things seemed to crumble around me: my old life, my sense of self, my confidence.
What saved me then was realising that I didn’t have to do it all, that our ‘best days’ were the ones where I didn’t watch the clock and despair at how long I’d be feeding and how long he’d been sleeping. Those days, wading through the day responding to my baby, gave me confidence as a mother and made me happy. Continue reading
This time last week it was finally beginning, after 10 days of waiting the contractions were starting for real. And in just over 4 hours I was holding my baby boy in my arms – all 4.35kg or 9 pound 9 ounce of him.
It was definitely one of those ‘worth the wait’ moments as the overdue angst of the past almost 2 weeks were washed away, along with the fears I carrried about this labour and my unborn child.
I think birth stories are either a ‘love them or hate them’ type thing, sometimes diminishing into ‘this happened’ and then ‘that happened’ type affair that does nothing to capture the specialness of the process and the moment, so I won’t go into the ins and outs of the whole labour and birth. Continue reading
Despite my pinings to the universe (via this blog and twitter, predominantly!), I’ve been sitting around here in post-date pregnancy land for the past eight days.
There was some action this time last week and I thought that I’d be spared the lengthy ‘lady in waiting’ stint I endured last pregnancy, but I just ended up vomitting with a few sporadic contractions and ended up pretty badly dehydrated, unable to keep food or liquid down.
At my midwife appointment last Friday, this baby of mine had an elevated heart beat and so did I due to the dehydration. I felt if I went into labour that I wouldn’t be in any state to get through it. I was strapped to the heart rate monitor for over an hour, but as I managed to keep down more water his heart rate improved and the machine registered a few low grade contractions as well, so I felt I could go ‘any time’. Continue reading