One of the greatest pleasures of a newborn...

Short post but if this doesn't melt you then nothing will. Me and Euna sharing a bath on Saturday... absolutely scrumptious. I will remember this forever and ever and advise it goes on everyone's baby bucket list...

Lesson - make time for skin to skin after the birth. They really won't stay teenie tiny forever...

Not the only one thinking about breastfeeding...

It would seem whilst I've been allowing my Pizza Express breastfeeding experience to simmer I have not been the only one with breastfeeding on the brain. As you may have seen Oreo have released, albeit now they are claiming accidentally, an ad showing a baby breastfeeding with an Oreo cookie in hand. And the response? Well it would appear I was right to concern myself with what other people thought... Sifting through the HUNDREDS of bloggers articles and consequential readers comments there are a huge array of responses...

Some people can't seem to understand why women want to "flaunt" themselves or "create a spectacle" feeding their babies. Does this woman exist? I imagine that is simply in the eye of the beholder. I don't feel sexy feeding Euna, I don't feel "unsexy" as such but lets say I feel decidedly functional. 

Some see the incidental public nudity of breastfeeding as "unnecessary". Surely all it is is necessary. FEEDing is all about need. You can't feed a baby (well my baby anyway) without them needing/wanting it. Pffffft to dream feeding thanks very much Gina Ford.

Some have been concerned with the child's nutritional intake. Too much sugar etc etc. Boring.

It seems a major part of the debacle is how this is highlighting Facebook's ban on breastfeeding images. An issue The Guardian highlighted earlier on in the year in a piece where they asked for readers breastfeeding pictures to publish of Facebook. I don't know much about TV guidelines not here things but I assume they are much in line with this as I can't remember the last time I saw breastfeeding on Eastenders despite all the babies born in to the storyline.

So as a western society we see breasts as sexual entities first and functional feeding organs second. I knew that, but I had never REALLY considered that. It takes me back to university. I studied dance and I have a lecturer who I really never appreciated at the time but more and more as the years go by I find myself going back to her lectures and reading recommendations. One day we had this whole discussion on how you CAN judge a book by it's cover. Skinny people (by and large) eat less. People who exercise regularly will have visible muscle tone. Tattoos, hair styles, posture and piercings all tell stories about a persons life and loves. I (always) digress...

The discussion led, as it would with a room full of dancers, to the functionality of the body. Only when you think about what our bodies are for do you start to see exactly how many layers of association and connotation we as a society have pasted over the core purposes of our greatest and most capable asset. A woman breastfeeding in a cafe is not sustaining her child, she is flaunting herself. What? I never used to get my boobs out in Starbucks (once or twice in bars at University but never over coffee) before having a baby. And let me tell you if you haven't had a baby seven weeks ago... I have never felt LESS like flaunting my body. *Snaps support knicker elastic*

The plot thickens. We've all played a part in it. I want to breastfeed in public without any sexualised connotation but I've spent most of my life since puberty in a push-up bra. Hmmm... The whole subject is still simmering with me but I do know a few things...

1. I don't feel embarrassed for feeding Euna in the waiting area at Pizza Express.
2. I love the closeness of breastfeeding my daughter and NO ONE can convince me it's anything less than beautiful.
3. I feel different about my body today. More confident. I care less about my wobbly bits and more about what an amazing job it's doing to put my daughter on the 75th percentile for weight. 
4. Everyone should feel warm and squishy looking at these.

Tummy time...

Panic ensued at this weeks NCT cake and coffee afternoon at the mention of tummy time. Who's doing it? How long for? What TERRIFYING implications are there if you're not doing?

I had been quite smug since my daughter's amazing feat of rolling on to her back at 13 days old and ever since tummy time had fallen by the wayside. But NO LONGER! From this day forth Euna will be enjoying daily tummy time for the recommended 30 minutes in an attempt to develop bionic neck muscles and eventually put her on the map as histories earliest walking baby. Oh yes.

Though after further investigation it may take some time to work up to the recommended 30 minutes. As too soon we go from this...

 

And this...

 To this...

Enjoying it...

Two things... 1. I like photography, I'm not very good at it but I just love to do it. 2. This is us out today... THIS is how it was supposed to be. When I was pregnant and fantasising about life as a new young family... we were outdoors and it looked a lot like this...

How much normality is too much...

When I was pregnant I had this idea that getting out and about would be a mark of parenting success. Looking back it seems I had NO faith in myself as for the last few weeks I was bulk buying toilet roll, filling the freezer and spending a small fortune on dried, jarred and tinned food. All in the anticipation I was about to spend literally MONTHS unwashed, neck deep in nappies and without the ability to so much as nip to the shops.

Six and a half weeks in and I can happily report this is not the case. Infact I am pretty shocked at how mobile we are with little one. We go out to lunch, we go round to friends' and families', we go in to town... We're doing ok on a local scale. So ok I can't help but feel yesterday we felt some what smug when we decided to try a trip to Bluewater shopping followed by an early evening meal at Pizza Express. 

Now little lady is in something that resembles something of a routine. It's pretty loose but it takes the shape of bath, chill, feed and bed by 8:00pm. So working backwards ideally I want to be home for 6:30pm. Besides time the secondary issue is feeding. I breast feed and dare I say it I think I breast feed confidently. Good for me I think. I'm trying to do a good thing for my daughter, breast is best and all that and I don't see why for my efforts I should be banished to darkened rooms behind my own front door for the foreseeable future. Plus I'm discreet. I use covers i the forms of scarves and muslins so why not? No one can see...

So Bluewater goes well, we have a snack in EAT and I feed. We're surrounded by kids, buggies and there is a general family vibe that I reckon sympathises with my need to feed my baby. I'm comfortable. Euna sleeps like an angel all around a group floor and first level lap of the centre. I play with camera lens' in Jessops and hubby purchases his annual round of t-shirts. (I'm not clothes shopping yet, I'm at least a stone away from wanting to put myself through that thanks, since I cried at the Gap sales assistant a couple of weeks ago I've decided I'm perfectly happy in my yoga pants.)

We leave Bluewater late. Drive homeward and park up for pizza express. There's a half hour wait and we're late already. Well we're here now. I look around the restaurant. It's lowering its lights for evening time. There are children here but no babies. The restaurant itself looks like a very open space and I don't imagine being able to feed as discreetly there. We have to wait in a holding pen type area which is slightly cosier. I'll feed here. So I do. 

But then it hits me... how much of this is us trying to carry on too much as normal? Are people looking at me? Am I some freaky crusty breastfeeding woman? Are people wondering why I'm out with a baby at this time (6:45pm)?

Urgh yuck. First real big pang of parenting guilt. And it's the kind of thing if it was a friend asking me these questions I'd be thinking them silly and saying don't worry! But wow when it's yours you can loose total perspective. Whatever usual point of reference I used before she came to make fast decisions on whats appropriate for children, parents and parenting has either totally disappeared or has somehow become unanchored.

So public breastfeeding then. How public is too public? How much am I allowed to carry on as normal? Should I be trying to carry on as normal? Bearing in mind there aren't really newborn baby appropriate activities and I don't think we should be cooped up... so then what?

I remember seeing women breastfeeding before I was thinking about babies and I'll admit I stared. But because I found it fascinating and lovely. Is that just me? What is general public's opinion on this?

Saturday's lesson: not sure, something about where do I feel comfortable breastfeeding and new parent guilt. 

I want to blog because...

So here I am 6 weeks postpartum. A truly beautiful and healthy baby girl. A pretty awesome husband. And with all this has come an insatiable need to record, savour, reflect and log. Everyone tells me I won't get these moments back and they're right. Not a day goes by when I don't turn to someone and gasp "they really DON'T stay babies forever". Unsympathetic to my breaking heart Euna relentlessly puts on weight, grows out of "Newborn" baby clothes and everyday makes a new and incredible leap away from the wriggly little scrap of a thing that burst in the world on the 7th March. She's lost that bright red new glow to her skin, her cries are heartier and I can see her starting to switch on the world as her looks at me become gradually more familiar.

In short; it's going too fast. And this blog is to anchor me. Once every... however often I decide to write this... I will sit, reflect, absorb and record this time. Her time. Our time. And maybe it'll take some shape of "confessions of a first time mum" type thing... who knows. We'll find out I guess... But my first blogging pledge is to be honest, despite the fear that some desperately attractive and successful old school friend may stumble across this and scoff at my tales of cracked nipples, I WILL be honest.

So here I am... blogging... where to start?

I won't start at the beginning, the birth. It's too big, too long and beyond what I have the words for just yet. That's all still settling. I don't know what I think about birth yet. I do know everyday the memory gets a little fonder. I'm sure it's some trick of nature to make us breed. Which is fine. No one wants to sit and read about how humiliating it is to shit yourself in front of your husband, how it's the worst pain in the history of the universe ever since time began or how MY birth was THE worst birth ever and don't even think YOURS was worse because it wasn't (people love doing that about birth).

So I'll start by answering the question I get asked five times a day... How's it going being a Mum? It's the new "How's life as a newly wed?" which I got five times a day after I got married. Never knew how to answer that one. Don't know how to answer this one.

The reason why I don't know how to answer this one is because no one wants to hear you are either doing well or badly. The genuine truth is Euna is a great baby. We are lucky. She feeds, she sleeps and yes she wakes up in the night but I only have one and I manage to get my sleep in either side of the feeds. That on top of the fact that 9 months off "real" coffee means my caffeine tolerance is decreased and a good espresso is now enough to see me through the day. So it's great. Being a Mum is awesome. I love it. Sorry.

Why sorry? Well sorry because it seems there are very few people in this world who want to hear that it's going well. They assume you're lying or are being smug. There's a lot of offence to be caused by telling you're enjoying motherhood. Honestly I don't mean offence. I feel like saying to people "oh yeah it's going great but don't worry I'm sure I'll hate it soon".

So the alternative would be to say it's hard? It's not. YET. Yes I get YET. I comprehend things will change. But come on! I'm in the honeymoon period, let me enjoy it. Allow me these few blissful weeks to ignorantly believe motherhood will just be all a blur of Johnsons-baby-oil-advert-esc moments rolling around on my bed blowing baby belly raspberries and basking in the angelic glow of her early morning smiles. Please? Just for another week or two...?

I suppose the important thing to know, before you think me smug too, is right now I'm just too aware that I'm lucky. Becoming a Mum has been a journey eating slice after slice of humble pie. 12 week scan; baby is there, likelihood of downs syndrome is low, has arms and legs... thank you thank you thank you. 20 week scan; abnormality scan all goes well, my skin hasn't exploded, husband is being supportive... thank you thank you thank you. Birth; she got here, she's healthy, I survived... thank you thank you thank you. It really is humbling. That's the best word. The journey has been littered with "what ifs", probabilities of a million unthinkable things and a billion horror stories. So to come out the other side of nine months of crossed fingers and toes not just unscathed but with everything you'd ever wished for... yea I feel lucky. I am lucky.

Well that's quite a sunny note to leave my first blog entry on. Yes I am lucky. So whatever variety of despair I am undoubtedly destined to divulge on here just know underlying that I do know I am lucky.

The first lesson I have learnt as a Mum; count your blessings.