The most natural thing in the world

Being a mum is the most natural thing in the world. But you don't want to do it too young, so we'll put you on the pill before you have your first serious boyfriend. It'll help with those cramps too.

Being a mum is the most natural thing in the world. But you don't want to mess up your studies, so we'll keep you on the pill, even though you're practising safe sex. It'll help with those cramps too, because the painkillers don't.

Being a mum is the most natural thing in the world. But you don't want to screw up your first proper job, so we'll keep you on the pill, even though you're not in any sort of relationship.  Cramps? You don't have those any more, do you?

Being a mum is the most natural thing in the world. But you don't want a bump on your wedding pictures, do you? We'll keep you on the pill, you wouldn't want to be bleeding on your honeymoon, after all.

Being a mum is the most natural thing in the world. So finally, you come off the pill.  You don't so much have cramps as want to claw your own uterus out with a rusty teaspoon. After missing 3 days work a month for 6 months due to haemorrhaging so badly you pass out, your employers start to lose patience.  But still, every month, without fail, along comes good old Aunt Flo.  Your friends announce their own pregnancies and elderly relatives start asking questions about when you'll follow suit.

You visit the doctor. He gives you painkillers. You become an expert in prescription and over the counter painkillers, their interactions and side effects. You become the person in the office that everyone comes to when they've got a headache as you have a better supply than the local chemist, on the days you're there, anyway.

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You cry. You go to the doctor and cry some more. Eventually he listens, and refers you to the hospital.  You get your appointment letter, and turn up on time. For a scan. In the ante-natal unit. Surrounded by happy, glowing pregnant women stroking their growing bumps. You cry as they scan your still empty womb.  And you still miss three days of work a month.

The specialist talks you through your options. Someone decides that surgery is the best step. You don't know who, you're too busy holding back the tears.  You go in for surgery. The ward adjoins the maternity ward, and you spend a sleepless night before surgery listening to the cries of other people's newborns, and drift off to sleep somewhere around 5. At 6 you're woken by a nurse with an evil glint in her eye and a single blade razor, who instructs you to have a shower and give yourself the kind of shave usually favoured by porn stars.

After surgery you learn that you're going to spend the next 6 months having a happy fun free trial temporary menopause, to allow your insides to heal. Someone sticks a needle in your bum, and slaps a plaster on your thigh.  You spend three days a month in bed with a migraine. Work remain unimpressed with your attendance.

A friend announces their pregnancy with their second child.  You cry.  That same friend loses their baby during childbirth. You cry again.  You cry for them and their loss. But you also cry for yourself. You're actually jealous. At least they can *get* pregnant in the first place. You hate that you feel this way. You cry because you're a bad person, feeling jealous of someone who has just lost their baby, for goodness sake.

Finally, they stop the injections, the patches, and you're left to nature. And when you're in what the specialist has said is the absolute last chance saloon, a miracle happens.  Somehow you're growing a new life inside you. Work are less than enthusiastic, but they've not seen much of you lately anyway.  Pregnancy is hard, childbirth traumatic. But at the end of it, you're left with the baby you so wanted. Who doesn't come with an instruction manual, and has a new challenge for every day of your life. Who turns your world upside down in ways you hadn't even considered.  Your friend goes on to have more children, and never even knows about your reaction.

Being a mum is the most natural thing in the world. But why did no-one say it would be so hard?

Bleedin' 'eck

We're at it again.  I really thought we'd turned a corner.  But today I got an email from Squeaky Daddy saying that she'd had a mega nosebleed in the car on the way to nursery. Great.  And then when I got to nursery, I found her in a spare t-shirt, because she'd been sitting with some of the other children on the carpet, and had another huge nosebleed.  For once she wasn't even picking it!

Now the second one is probably just a continuation of the first, it tends to go like that.  But we'd gone over 2 months without a single nosebleed, and even that one was tiny and dealt with in moments.  And now we're back to a bleedy square one.  Almost all her previous nosebleeds, with the exception of accidents, have been at night, and judging by the evidence, due to picking her nose in her sleep.   But spontaneous daytime nosebleeds are something new.  I've never (to my knowledge, mum please don't tell the world otherwise!) had a nosebleed, and while I technically know what to do, it's still kind of unpleasant.

Any other secret midnight nosepickers? Or general little bleeders?  Aside from keeping her nails very very short, I'm not sure what else to do.

I'm BAAAAAAACK!

After a week of near internet-silence, I'm back!  Don't worry, I hadn't fallen off the side of the world, or damaged myself, just the computer decided to have a bit of an existential crisis and needed to go for a little holiday.

But we're back now, with a little update to remind you that we're around.

TBH, even without the computer to distract us, we didn't get up to an awful lot last week.  Doctor's appointment to get them to look at Little Miss Squeaky's eczema (poor little mite), and visiting pretty much every relative under the sun seems to cover it.

But we did indulge ourselves with a trip to the car boot sale on Sunday.  Not that we were really looking for anything, but we went anyway.  The ground was horrible, all frozen & lumpy and slippy, but the Symbio coped admirably, far better than me in my boots.  And the blessing of it being frozen, I guess, is that everything stayed clean.  A little more thawing & I'd still be hosing the mud off now.  I love the way the cosytoes can fold down over the bar, or up, practically to Squeaky's nose.  She's a little demon for sticking her hands out into the cold, but this way she stays lovely and toasty warm.

 

Hospitals, and other adventures

We finally had our appointment with the paediatric orthopaedic guy last week, after a very last minute cancellation of our original appointment.  X-rayed (do you know how difficult it is to keep a naked and wriggly 9 month old still long enough to have her hips x-rayed?), examined, and apparently she's now within the normal range.  Not in the middle of the normal range, but within it at least.  Which is a huge relief.  Seemingly the double nappies have done their job, and I will not be sad to say goodbye to them - they've been getting harder & harder to put on because they add so much to the time a nappy change takes.  We've still got to go back in 6 months time, for a follow up check when she's walking properly, but generally, we're very very relieved.

I said hospitals up there, not one but two.  Last weekend my right knee started playing up.  Just felt a bit bruised, like maybe I'd knelt on something awkward or something, so I shrugged it off.  But it got progressively worse, until Monday morning I could barely stand on it. So I phoned the doctor & got an appointment for that day, toddled off, doctor took a look and phoned the hospital & sent me off up there.  5 1/2 hours of sitting around in casualty, x-rays, blood tests, and purple pen marks around my now bright red & swollen kneecap, and apparently I've got an infection in the fluid on my knee, giving me Housemaid's Knee.  Of all absurd things.  It kind of makes sense when you consider how much time I spend on the floor, crawling around after Squeaky, but even so, I can't get any kind of glamorous complaint, can I?  Bloody housemaid's knee, I ask you!

Squeaky also had her 9 month check up this week, and passed with flying colours. According to the doctor, she's quite advanced, in as much as she's happily crawling, pulling up to standing, and cruising around with something to lean on when the mood takes her.  Is good, if scary.  Honestly, she's a little dynamo.

Oh, and her latest discoveries?  She can remove any kind of shoe I put on her.  Elastic, no problem. Velcro, easy.  Boots, piece of cake.  Shoes with built-in socks, no worries.  I don't understand. How can she be mine & not want all the shoes in the world?  And she's also figured out how to clap her hands herself.  She figured out flattening them to make a noise when I clap them a while back, then last week how to clap my hands together holding on to my little fingers, but yesterday she put the two concepts together and learned how to clap her own hands.  This is maybe the most exciting thing ever, from the look on her face when she does it.  Hours of entertainment to be had now.

Weight, revisited

I nearly forgot this, you know.

Way way back in the mists of time, when Squeaky was just a tiny squeak, the midwife decided that she hadn't gained enough weight. So she sent us off up the hospital *now*. Amazingly in the time between the midwife weighing her, and being weighed in the hospital, she'd gained about 3oz. ::eyes roll:: In other words, the whole fiasco was just because of calibration differences between different sets of scales.

But still. At that visit to the hospital, the doctor said she'd still like to see Squeaky again in "4 - 6 weeks", just to follow it up and monitor her. So we sit and wait for an appointment letter. And wait, and wait. 4 -6 weeks come & go. Injections come & go & my gp chases up the appointment, but still we hear nothing.

I was up the hospital myself a couple of weeks ago, and decided to take matters into my own hands. Strolled up to paediatric outpatients, and said "Errrr, this is Squeaky. She was meant to have an appointment in 4-6 weeks, and that was 14 weeks ago. Wha'happen?" The receptionist had a look on the computer, said "I can't see anything, but you'd have to go to Aberdare, not here, because you're under Dr So-&-So. Here's the phone number for medical records, phone them." Next day (it was late afternoon, ok?), I phone the other hospital. The person I spoke to said "Oh, you had an appointment on X/X/10, but you didn't turn up". Me "Excuse me?? I wasn't told about that appointment." She confirms my address and says that's where the letter would have gone, I repeat that no letter was received. Audible sigh. She then says she'll speak to the clinic, but it'll probably be tomorrow before they can answer anything. 5 minutes later, she phones me back, very apologetic, apparently they had anew computer system, and a load of letters got missed, would we be able to go {last week}. Of course.

Last week, off we went at last. Squeaky was perfectly behaved, charmed everyone as usual. And the upshot is, her weight's fine. She was little, she remains little, but she's perfectly healthy, gaining sufficient weight, and developing just as she should. And is discharged from the hospital.

Even though I knew her weight had sorted itself out, and it was just a little blip, it's a huge weight (ha ha) off my mind. Hooray for little Squeaky!

Tact & diplomacy

Over a week since our last update, but now Squeakydaddy has gone back to work, so I have more time to do stuff. Yeah, go figure.

Squeaky is 2 and a half months old now. How does that in any way suggest that she's ready to eat chocolate? From someone who has two children and at least half a dozen grandchildren (I've lost count, the one son is a veritable machine). And how do I politely say "Thanks, but no thanks"?

Oh, but I might have the solution. Squeaky is going through another of her "not putting much weight on" phases. We've been here before, so I'm less concerned than the health visitor. She piles it on for a few weeks, then stalls for a couple, then piles it on again. So we've sent a poo sample to the hospital for lactose intolerance tests, and I'm experimenting with soy milk. This could be our chocolate escape route, without offending my crazy family. Wish us luck, it's weigh-in day today.