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  • HyperHam 11:21 am on February 3, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , One Foot Moment,   

    One Foot and Fight Club 

    One Foot Moment Tuesday – went to the Mall in the stroller (yes, we managed to get it to work), I was in serious pain (stupid episiotomy and forgetting to take pain meds), but we got on the bus, off the bus, on the bus, and off the bus with little to no worry.  Yay!  Wed’s moment – we got the manual for the stroller in the mail from the buddy we bought it from, woot!

    Weapon has become my Fight Club.  When I first got here (almost 1 year ago in about a week or so), I was struggling to find my way.  I left a steady job and a Master’s program.  I was thousands of miles and 5 time zones away from everything I knew.  I was no longer a tourist – I lived here.  But, I didn’t belong.  Oh, Monkey did a fantastic job trying to acclimate me, but I had to get over the hump.  Didn’t help that within 2 months, I was pregnant, and the great vomiting/hormones/yuckiness took over.  Days blended into one another – wake up, vomit, sleep, vomit, eat 2 bites of food, fight down the urge to vomit….you see where I am going with this.  I didn’t have any plans, didn’t need them really.  Couldn’t work until we got married and applied for 2 year visa, which wasn’t granted till September, by which time I was proper big (and still vomiting), and doubted anyone would hire me.  After September life became a mash of doctor appts (for bipolar and preggersness), which leads us into the here and now.

    Now, it’s all different.  Weapon is my reason to get up (every hour, on the hour).    He is the reason to make sure I put decent food in my tummy, to take my meds (again, a big FU to the episiotomy), to try and pick up the place when I can (mostly just the calvacade of cords in the living room – surprise, surprise, multiple computers and phones and such all have leads), even to make sure my phone is plugged in and charged (nightlight and constant baby timer).  He is my reason to be a follow up on emails that need following, and going through paperwork, and such.  He is my reason to be a better person.  He makes me want to take real pride in myself (although to look at me right now, with 4 lb bags under my eyes, my hair in every direction, and essentially a long skirt pulled up to over my boobies like a weird monochromatic mumu, you might think otherwise).  He is my reason for being, right now.

    Weapon has been up from 4 am to 10.30, inconsolable for most of the night.  Awful awful gas, blew out one diaper, and went through another 5 or so.  Major tooting and spitting up, followed by OMG I AM RAVENOUS FEED ME hunger, which we all knew was going to lead to more spitting up from all the gas.  He is just waking up, hungry as hell.  Time to fight.  🙂

    • Mags 3:09 pm on February 3, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      Has the midwife/HV* suggested anything for the gas yet? We used Infacol from around 4 weeks until 5 months, as we’d get epic colicky sessions every afternoon.

      *Hopefully you’ve been signed off the midwife and are with a HV by now.

      • HyperHam 7:35 pm on February 9, 2011 Permalink | Reply

        We are trying Infacol as well as getting Dr Brown’s bottles, apparently they are like liquid gold or something for gassy babies. Just got signed off today from midwife, yayayayay!

  • HyperHam 4:17 pm on January 31, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: One Foot Moment,   

    One Foot Moments 

    This has been an…unusual week.  Weapon has spent more time of his life in the hospital than out of it, with his addition of a new fun game on Saturday night that I like to call ‘You Can’t Wake Me’.  Basically, nothing we did would rouse him from the deepest sleep.  Sometimes he would grasp our hands, sometimes his arms would flop at his sides.  Sometimes he would stir, sometimes he would not – all while refusing to open his eyes.  Wouldn’t wake up for Mummy and Daddy, wouldn’t wake up for the nice ambulance people, and only woke up in the children’s ER ward at Chelsea and Westminster really when they did another heel prick test for jaundice.  Luckily his levels were below having to do light therapy, but they did keep him overnight for observation.  So, yeah.  Fun game. 

    Every single day we face a new challenge, but every single day we have a triumph in our life.  For instance:

    Day 1:  Had kid.

    Day 2:  Got through first full night in post-natal ward without Monkey. 

    Day 3:  Got through second night, and started ‘topping up’ with formula. (I don’t want to do formula, but my milk hadn’t/hasn’t properly come in yet, due to among other things the traumatic birth and subsequent sleep deprivation).

    Day 4:  We get to go home!

    Day 5:  We have our first night at home as a family.  We make it!

    Day 6:  I get to talk to my friend Kristi in the States about the issues I am having (freak outs about Weapon, etc), and I feel so much better.

    Day 7:  Weapon decides to play the new game ‘You Can’t Wake Me’, and we don’t lose our heads entirely, we do the right thing and take him to A&E.

    Day 8:  Weapon is home, and while we have a VERY long night, we get through it.

    Day 9:  Midwife arrives, weighs Weapon, he is gaining weight nicely, and she says his latch and my bf posture looks great! 

    In the darkest hours, I try to remember that we are taking baby steps, and putting one foot in front of the other is the only way for us to learn.  I will (time and energy permitting) try to put up a ‘One Foot Moment’ every day, to remind myself that while it’s hard, there are moments of pure victory every day – you just have to look for them super hard some times.  😉

    • Kristi 3:07 am on February 1, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      Girl. You know you are a great mom. Remember when you had to learn that pb&j's are cut a certain way? You triumphed and didn't break a sweat. You will perservere, you will triumph. And the day he says: "I love you, mommy" will forever remain in infamy. Those days get you through. The days they will only be calmed by you, regardless of how tired you are and sleep deprived and however much you want them to go to their dad – just long enough to get a shower. You will fall asleep on the couch with him, and snuggle, and remember, that you are mommy, and only you matter. And you will be sad the day he only wants dad. 😉 More victories than fails/ falls. I promise.

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