I love it when...

... she goes "brrrrrrrrrrrr" when being burped and blows milky bubbles

... it's feeding time and she gets all excited, starts kicking her legs and literally pants in anticipation

... she unlatches and then rests her cheek on my breast and looks at me (like, okie, thatz enuff miluk, I wantz to be wif my Ammi)

... she grasps my finger in her hand, even though I know it's a reflex

... she sucks on my pinkie, and then it slowly dawns on her that she has the wrong appendage

... she gurgles in the bath when I splash her

... she protests against a wet nappy by lifting her bottom off the cot and wriggling it

... she sleeps with her fists clenched over her ears (like, Shhhhh, I'z tryings to get some sleeps!)

I just love her... so SO much!

To C or not to C

So yeah, I had a C section. There were many reasons, and I won't be going into them here. It's not easy to decide between a normal vaginal delivery (NVD) and a C section (CS). NVD is the "natural" way to go... but also involves torn vaginal walls, a lot of pain, bleeding etc. Unless you plan on giving birth in a barn, it's not truly "natural" either... drugs such as oxytocin are given to kick start and maintain the contractions, and pethidine or even an epidural is given for the pain. This is because :

a) no woman should be in unnecessary pain (unless she wants to)

b) prolonged labour means loads of risks to both mother and baby

Almost always, an episiotomy cut is done, effectively widening the vaginal passage in a manner that will not affect the muscles controlling the bowel. So you end up with stitches, whether you like it or not.

CS is basically abdominal surgery... you get sliced open, there's a lot of blood and pain once the anaesthesia wears off.

NVD is safer for the mother, riskier for the baby. But it's better for the baby because the brain gets "moulded" and extra water is squeezed out of the baby lungs. CS is riskier for the mum, but the baby is born all pretty and rosy, not having gone through the trauma of being squeezed through a bony passage. NVD is unpredictable, you never know what might go wrong at a god-awful hour when no doctors are immediately available. CS offers a measure of comfort for the control freak.

I know a lot of people think that mothers going for C sections have it "easy". A couple of months ago, some of the Sinhala blogs on Kottu were discussing if mothers who deliver "normally" (NVD) love their children more. This offended me even then... how can pain be a measure of affection? I can't compare the two, since I didn't go through both*, but I can assure you that the C section is by no means easy.

The actual delivery is like the proverbial piece of cake, but afterwards, the mother has to deal with the contractions of the womb, since it is now going through the process of getting back to size (this happens naturally with NVD and is mostly complete by the time the baby is out). The process is helped by hormones that are secreted in response to feeding.

The difference? After a C section, the womb has a large surgical cut along the lower part... so with each contraction, the raw edges are squeezed tight against each other.... over and over again. For 2 days, every time I fed my child, I could feel the contractions one after the other, pain rippling through my insides in relentless waves. Sometimes it would make me moan with agony, tears dripping down onto the innocent little face nestling at my breast. The nice doctors offered me pethidine, but I refused, because I knew it would make the baby sleepy and make breast feeding more difficult to establish. And there's the pain from the surgical skin cut as well... a burning red gash across my lower belly.

I know it's not a competition, but on behalf of all the much maligned mums who go through a CS, I'd like to place on record that it's certainly not an easy piece of cake to eat!

______________________________

* I need to ask my Sis-in-law or my friend T who both went through hours of labour and then had to have emergency CS, yipes!

Out and about!

We had our first major outing today... and by "we" I mean Darling, myself and the little Bumtrinket. After six weeks (six weeks!) of being cooped up in the house, I was like a bird, flapping away towards freedom, and in high excitement, babbling away like a bubbling brook. Seriously, six weeks and the only outings were two visits to the Paediatrician and one to my VOG... (specially considering my active pre-baby lifestyle), I mean, who wouldn't get postpartum depression?

Don't get me wrong, I love being with the little pipsqueak, changing her, feeding her, rocking her... just watching her sleep gives me little goosebumps of joy and watching her develop and grow is incredible. She gave her first responsive smile three days ago... her first social milestone. And it was amazing... instead of her usual slightly blank smile (also directed at the light bulb, the water jug and Eeyore), she looked at me, focused on my face and this wide, delighted smile just spread across her baby face as if she was thinking "Yes! There's my Ammi!" I was so excited, I was literally hopping about when I interrupted Darling at his very important meeting and told him the good news.

But I digress.

One reason for the new found travel is obviously, that she is 6 weeks old, and ready to brave the wide wild world. Another is our aristocratically named Nanny. Readers, introducing Charlotte, a gentle soul with just the right knack to handle the baby and the slightly neurotic mama at the same time.

Today being a "neketh" day half the eligible couples in SL are getting married, and we happened to be invited to two of them. So we went. Darling, me, Baby, Charlotte, Eeyore, changing mat, nappies, baby wipes, baby dresses, et al. We made a glorious and conspicuous entrance at one hotel, caught up with the "gang", mwah mwah'ed the Aunties, nicked the key to the room reserved for the happy couple, fed the baby, then breezed out, only to make a similar appearance at a similar hotel nearby.

We came home, nerves slightly frazzled, with a voraciously hungry baby and a dizzily exuberant mama.

Watch out Colombo, here we come!

Birthday!

Yes gentle readers, we are one month old today! (Her excellency has a tendency to use the Royal plural) :D

I've been meaning to write about what it was like.. the Big Day... but some memories are too precious to put to words well.

As it turned out, I had a Cesarean section (for a number of reasons)... it was good because, control freak that I am, I could decide on the date, time and the doctors who were to be there... not exactly an option for emergencies! So there I was, clad in theater garb, being wheeled into the waiting area. I hadn't got much sleep the previous night, so instead of being in a state of pleasant anticipation, I conked out, and the Anaesthetist had to shake me awake... erm, never mind.

Now I've had a lumbar puncture before, which hurt like hell, and had steeled myself to put on a brave show during the spinal anaesthesia. Honestly though, my doctor was so wonderful, I didn't feel a thing, not even that huge needle being plunged into my spine. So there I was, biting my lips and tensing for the pain and she says "okie, you can lie down" and I'm like "that's it?". She must have thought I was demented...

So once the drugs kicked in, I was stripped (farewell maiden modesty!), and then covered again with sterile cloth. My VOG gives me a thumbs up and I'm sure a big smile was there under his mask as he ushered Darling into the theater. The poor man (Darling, not the VOG) kept his eyes determinedly away from the scene of carnage and sat down on a little stool near me. It was incredibly comforting to have him near me... whispering soothing things and rubbing my shoulder while the doctors sliced me up. The drugs dull the pain, but you can still feel everything going on, and I was thinking, ok, now they cut the skin, now they pushed up the omentum, now they're mobilizing the womb...

Suddenly there was this huge sensation of pressure, making me gasp and making D pat frantically away at my shoulder... and she was born! There she was, pink with the effort of breathing for the first time, her eyes scrunched up against the brightness of the theater lights and body slick with our combined blood and fluids. Her mouth was wide open as she squalled with all her might, announcing her presence to the world.

I could only say "oh she's gorgeous" before dissolving in tears. You know how in corny novels they describe how someone's heart melted like a pat of butter in the sun? That's exactly how I felt. I kept craning to see what was happening while the Paediatrician assessed her and then the lovely, warm, wriggling bundle of joy was on my chest, snuffling her way towards the milk supply. How do I describe it... that first contact with my child, my flesh and blood? I'm sorry... there are no words... I was just floating on this fluffy white cloud, clutching her close to me.

Afterwards? Well all 3 of us donned out L boards and got on with being a new family... feeding, burping and changing nappies.

Words

He said

"Twelve years ago, I stood in front of the Taj Mahal, and thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world"

He said

"Four years ago, I saw you step out of the car in your wedding dress, and I thought the most beautiful thing was you"

He said

"I look at our little baby, nestled in your arms... and I know she is the most beautiful thing in the world"

I love you, my Darling!

Poopy tales*

*highly sensitive people are advised to stay away from this post

So yes, baby poop has now become a delightful standard addition to my daily routine. Newborns have only milk in their cute little tummies, so the poop is golden yellow, has the consistency of toothpaste and isn't really smelly. Darling begs to disagree with the last statement, and his pained face at every nappy change is a sight worth seeing... but that's because Ms Bumtrinket saves the messiest ones for him!

With my vast experience of 2 weeks, I have cautiously divided the poop into a few categories

1. The first poop: This is basically the accumulated gunk of 9 months being purged from the baby intestines. It's the colour and consistency of hot tar, and presumably equally difficult to clean off. During the first day we used over a hundred (yes, one hundred) cotton balls for cleaning purposes. Happily, after about 2-3 motions, things get a bit easier.

2. The relaxed poop: Baby gives due warning (squall, poopy face), and is positioned in a way to cause minimal damage. By manipulating the baby, it's possible to make attractive swirls on the diaper, rather like decorating cupcakes...

3. The gassy poop: The is minimal warning, usually an ominous rumble from down under, and usually when Darling is "on-call". Baby is rushed to changing surface. Poop comes out in a projectile manner, hitting the far end of the changing mat or the wall beyond, completely obliterating anything (cotton balls, clean nappies, baby cream) in its path.

I shall be updating this list periodically.

Ahhh, motherhood!

This my dear readers, is the only occupation where the job description includes delight at the bodily effluents of another person... :)

1. Poop

As in : OMG she did her first poop....! OMG she did her 17th poop! (Ad infinitum)

2. Farts

As in : Better out than in, my darling! (Thank you Shrek)

3. Burps

As in : Wow, that was a *big* burp (Yes, and she will not regurgitate and choke)

4. Pee

As in : Yes! Her 10th wet nappy! (She is not dehydrated!)

5. Weight gain

As in : 200g! Brilliant! (That's equal to 2 whole marie biscuit packets!)

Await more additions to the list...