Our surname should be ‘Leaky’ as life now revolves around breast pads, sanitary towels, nappies, cotton wool and hankies (my boyfriend has hayfever). The small one is a delight, and it is so lovely to be able to see what I am worrying about. So far he is only waking up twice in the night and when I get the hang of breastfeeding whilst lying down, without the light on we will be on a roll. As I now have two bodies to worry about I am splitting the diary into 2 sections:
A week after the birth I feel saddle sore. I have a bath twice a day using tea made of lavender flowers in the water. I have also been using a low dose of arnica and putting aloe vera gel on my sanitary towels. I don’t know how much this has helped but my one inch long tear has sealed up by about a third (I am making my boyfriend give me reports as I am too squeamish to look at the damage). Hopefully I can get away without having to have stitches, apparently quite a few clinics don’t stitch any more and one midwife is reported to say ‘if two pieces of perineum are in the same room together they will find each other’. Other than that I feel the fittest I have ever been in my life, in a tired kind of way. My brain is incredibly small indeed though, very very tiny.
Although I hated being pregnant I loved my shape, and I miss my ripe figure but I don’t miss heartburn and carrying all that extra weight around. I have gone from 36d, 46, 43 to 35e, 37, 41 in a week and my tummy looks like unappetising blancmange but I don’t care. I have just had a baby and I am proud of my body for doing it no matter what I look like. Breastfeeding is getting easier. I am finding it really difficult to ‘do nothing’ when I am feeding him though, I keep thinking I should be using the time constructively, but in reality I am.
The Small thing
He is definitely a tit man. Even if he is not hungry he is content to stare at them. I think a range of tit toys and furnishings would be a big hit with him. Bedding with pictures of them, toys with teats. He feeds, poos, feeds, sleeps, sings the ‘leg’ song (leg leg leg leg leg leg…) feeds, poos, stares at stuff and sleeps. All exhausting stuff, for both of us. He has had a bit of jaundice which is getting better with time and daylight and a sticky eye that a wipe with a cool teabag a few times a day helps.
Going out of the house takes time, not because of him, but because of all the people who quite rightly stop to admire him.
This diary is brought to you courtesy of a tri-cotti sling that leaves my hands free to type. £23 for 2 bits of t-shirt material seemed pretty steep but new they are around £40 and it is extremely comfortable for both of us. Small thing is snoring happily as I type.