A long and grumbly day
Today has been an extremely difficult day on the mummy and baby front … and I think if Hope were sitting here typing this she’d say the same thing.
She’s not eaten anything other than a small petit filou yoghurt this morning and half a grape, oh and about an inch of an ice lolly … and drinking, well she’s drunk about 2cms of water and two little cups of expressed breast milk … with the latter when she drank the last bit (and it took her an age to drink only an inch of milky) she said, “more”, so I lifted my blouse (yup it was a blouse not a top), she lent in and then pulled back, lent in again and licked her feeding station before sitting upright and pushing the drinking cup over my breast in the hope that more would drip out that way.
I wanted to cry, well I wanted to laugh too as it was funny, she tried on both sides and kept checking the cup, but mainly I wanted to cry … breasts very achy now (inspite of pumping) and I just feel sad, sad she’s poorly and under the weather and selfishly sad as I so miss the intimacy of breastfeeding.
She rejected food as well today, all her favourites including some lovely fish which was almost unheard of. She ate a bit of white bread (a treat from her Granby) and dunked it in the cup of breast milk … a lavish if meagre meal.
Other than that she was listless, miserable, grumbly and generally very fed up … and got hotter and hotter. In the end I called CamDoc out of hours service and they sent me round to the hospital to have her checked out … swollen glands everywhere, a sore tooth and a fever (obviously!) but the very nice doctor said to give her some medicine and wait out a few days and she’d be fine … he seemed to think she’d start feeding again … I hope so.
On the feeding front I have more faith in two remarkable ladies, Justine and Rachel from the local branch of the La Leche League, it was them and their colleague Mary that got Hope and I going with breastfeeding 18 months ago … against the odds of age, prematurity and nose tube feeding and it’s been with their support we’ve enthusiastically continued and thrived. They advised about nursing strikes, about gentle cuddles, loving stories, trying in different ways and when she’s asleep or just waking up. They counselled against making it stressful and importantly also said to keep an eye out for mastitis signs in me. I have so much admiration and respect for these women who so patiently and kindly give of their time to transform the lives of so many other women. They have always made me feel that I am not bonkers and that I am not alone with any concerns I have had.
So here I sit typing with one hand and breast pumping with the other, into my funny little manual breast pump ( I never got on with the electric one). Hope is asleep, with a night time dose of paracetamol and no ‘jamies on as it is a hot night and she is so warm … she looks very fragile and small just sleeping in her nappy. That makes me emotional on top of being tired and over emotional with everything else.
Right time for a bit more pumping then heading down to the fridge to store the sweet white liquid gold until it’s needed.
Then it’s time for bed … in my bed beside shortie in her cot … at some point in the night she will wake up and clamber into bed beside me and I’ll lie there watching her sleep and feel so much love, and will be filled with hope that she will be back guzzling and slurping with her former relish before too many days have passed by … and I will also be reflecting on all the ways breast feeding made me proud and happy to make sure I never forget the wonderful times we had, just incase she doesn’t pick up where she left off… but fingers crossed.
She said with trepidation.