Tag: Newborn

One Week

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

It has been a week already, and we are now beginning to get used to our little boss. He passed the stage of being an angel and a miracle, and now I realise he is a small infant with enormous demands; a handful.

Yesterday (Sunday) he started marathon feeding sessions that lasted up to 2 hours each, and I had very little time to do anything else. Thanks to Ron, though, I still got a chance for my first solo walk on the promenade. It was a warm afternoon and I timed the walk carefully to last 30 minutes, which means 15 minutes of brisk walking then heading straight back. All of the time I was anxiously watching my cell phone and expecting a call or an SMS from Ron who stayed at home to watch the sleeping Robert. In the evening it was more of the same: non-stop feeding and only five hours of sleep, and of course I ended up being very sore indeed.

The main dilemma for today was on which side to feed Robert; I mean, which breast is less painful. I had a sample of nipple cream in the goody bag from the hospital, and I used it liberally after every feeding. I also tried to talk Robert out of pulling, gumming or useless suckling and convince him of proper latching and sucking instead, this of course was easier said than done.

Ron fared a little better; he went on a hike towards Lion’s Head, and came back fresh and energetic, to cook us some soup. I had the baby hanging at my breast the whole time. When he was not feeding we tried to keep him entertained. Today he sat in his car seat with us on the veranda, and listened to the noise of the traffic, which should be familiar to him by now.

I was very exhausted by the end of the day, and luckily Robert gave me a little bit of a break, his hunger cries were less frequent during the night, waking up every three hours, so I managed to accumulate six hours of sleep in between feedings.

Cold but Happy Spring Day

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment
I think Robert and I are beginning to work out the kinks in this breastfeeding saga. Every time we changed his diaper today there was a mighty big package, and he is a much happier baby. He is also latching at the breast correctly with much less fussing and moaning, I am starting to feel a little more confident about this.
Today is a spring day in South Africa , but there is no sign of the season yet in Cape Town . It is raining and cold, and I am still wearing my sweater, fluffy slippers and fluffy socks around the house. The feeding at night is complicated because I have to put on many layers of clothes before I answer Robert’s calls.
At midday we decided that it was time to give Robert his first bath. There was nothing against it since his weenie is now fully healed. His umbilical stump hasn’t fallen off yet, but according to the modern literature we read, there is no harm in bathing baby with the stump still intact. The bathtub I got from my friend Britt makes bathing the baby a little less intimidating, as it has support for the body and the neck. The baby sits in a kind of reclining chair, formed around his body, so there is little danger of slipping under the water. Still, it was somewhat of a challenge for both of us, and Ron got a little impatient with my slowness. “You have to work quickly with the baby” he always says. My rationale is that if I work slowly there is less chance of mistakes or accidents. Well, two people can have different approaches even when they are a married couple. In the end we did not break baby, and the bath was completed. However, it was too close to call whether it was baby or his parents who found the episode more unnerving.
This morning Ron and I also took turns waiting in a telephone queue. Yes, we had an unresolved query with our ISP, and had to contend with listening to their recorded message: “We are experiencing a high volume of phone calls, please hold. Your call is important to us”. It carried on endlessly, and unfortunately every time we got through to a “human being” on the other end of the line, we were transferred somewhere else, and we had to repeat the whole story all over again. In the end Ron managed to resolve the issue. Apart from waiting on endless phone queues, there was the added stress, because Ron had to reconfigure the internet access on the hardware and software side. He wore his IT guru hat for a few minutes and got it all done without difficulty, but before that he had to behave like an IT guru for a while and get us all very nervous and apprehensive of the gargantuan task.
In the afternoon I got a phone call and a greeting from my friend Britt. She was on her way to the Cape Winelands with her husband and the two little girls. I had a vision of them in the big car, with baby car seats and bags bulging with diapers, formula, and everything else. I thought to myself it will be a while before we have the nerve to venture anywhere outside the city. Heck, at the moment I still had to find it in me to venture outside the house.
As it happened, today was the day when I actually did venture outside the door for a few minutes. In the evening I went to the 7/11 at the bottom of our street and bought the Saturday Paper. At about six in the evening I had just put baby to bed and Ron was preparing dinner. I am starting to learn now that I have to move quickly when baby is resting, because their time of shut-eye is the one small window of opportunity for me to sleep, eat, shower, or escape. I put on my raincoat, which I could easily zip around my waist this time- and went into the wet and darkening evening breathing my freedom for the first time. I skipped down the steps unburdened by a pregnant belly, and bounced down the hill. Ron and I rarely buy the Saturday Argus because it is big and bulky and has three huge sections of property ads, which we have no use for. Today however we had to buy it because it has Robert’s birth announcement. It was one of the free services offered by Cape Town Medi-Clinic which we took advantage of.
My outing lasted for only ten minutes, and I was back at home after that. The walk up the hill was a little laboured, I would have thought that I would be able to run up the hill as soon as I gave birth, but it looks like I have to give myself more time to recover and get fit. Ron and I had our first quiet dinner together. It was a delicious chicken curry with spinach, coconut rice, and carrot salad with ginger and sweet chilli sauce. We enjoyed every bite. If baby is going to carry on this pattern, then we are very lucky. He is a very good baby.
Pocahontas was the early Saturday night movie and for once we were both interested enough to watch. I always thought Disney movies were great fun, but Ron usually has hardly any patience for kiddies stuff. I cannot help but think that having a little baby in the house is already changing our personalities. I had to smile when Ron said that Disney movies were educational. The tiny fingers of baby Robert are casting their spell on our hearts.

Cracking The Feeding Code (How NOT to feed)

~ marobbie ~ 1 Comment

No, I don’t feel that great today. Robert was very cranky the whole night, and Ron and I took turns rocking him. In the end Ron headed for a much needed sleep while I continued with rhythmic rocking and singing meaningless and monotone lullabies. My face today shows the strain of sleeplessness, and my incision aches and pulls whenever I move up from a sitting or lying position. I had to resort to one of the pain suppositories.

Things improved a little in the morning, but we still had to give the bloated little one several doses of gripe water. He always calmed down considerably after taking them.
My swollen and engorged breasts continued to hurt, although I diligently breastfed Robert. I kept wearing a “scrunchy” hair band on my wrist to indicate which side I was supposed to breastfeed from next, otherwise I would not be able to tell, both were sore and swollen.

By midday, and after a late breakfast and strong coffee, Ron and I got somewhat more comfortable, less zombie and more jet-lagged, as it were. We started organizing the endless paperwork from the hospital. We opened a paper file for Robert, containing all his birth paraphernalia, and his initial medical records. There were doctor’s appointments to be made, and hospital accounts to be paid (the ones that are not settled by medical aid). It took over an hour to sort things out, and we now have a list on the fridge showing us the important health visits for the next month.

The day was cold, not a sign of spring, and according to the long-range forecast there will be a couple of cold fronts during the next week which is supposed to mark the beginning of spring here in South Africa.

Evening came, and it was turning out to be a heavy one. I gulped the dinner Ron prepared, and started the duty of trying to feed, change, burp, and rock. Eventually the crying got too much out of hand with Robert pulling his knees up towards his stomach, and all other measures of massaging and soothing failed, so we resorted to another dose of gripe water. Ron and I alternated this duty between us for a few hours, then we agreed that Ron should go to bed, because there was no point in both of us driving ourselves crazy with an inconsolable infant.

Throughout the night, I got even less success with feeding Robert; He got more and more agitated every time he tried to suck on an engorged breast. My instinct told me that something was clearly wrong, and on impulse I moved from the reclining comfortable chair to another straight-backed and less comfortable one. My position was different and I tried leaning forward towards the baby while feeding him. He gulped a few times then started sucking rhythmically. An hour later Ron came in intrigued by the silence in the lounge and saw me sitting there, wild-eyed and tired but calm. The rest of the night was exhausting. Robert nursed so hard and so long that I was terribly sore by morning, but he slept for a couple of hours at a time. His nappies started to get full, which was not the case for the last 36 hours. As it turned out the poor little one was not getting enough milk since we came home, I swore never to sit again on the comfortable chair by the bay window, and hoped that I haven’t done permanent damage to my milk supply or to Robert’s appetite and health.

Back At Home

~ marobbie ~ 1 Comment

Today has to be a good day, because we are finally going home. I had altered my tea only wake-up ritual and opted for the watery coffee this morning. I also had my fill at breakfast for once, because I ordered corn porridge (mealie meal), muffin and fixings, yogurt and fruit salad. It looks like I had cut myself short in my breakfast orders during the last three days. Never mind, this was my last meal at this hospital, and tomorrow I will have my beloved weetbix biscuits with banana and milk again.

Breastfeeding was going well, and I was feeling elated although I smelled slightly of sour milk and leaked non-stop, but I was prepared with breast pads, and Robert was there to help my get rid of excess production.

Ron and I agreed that he should come today before lunch so that we can get out of the hospital as soon as possible. Obviously my doctor had to see me and approve my discharge and I wanted also to see the pediatrician and the lactation consultant for one last time, to have my last minute questions answered. It turned out that on a Thursday my doctor does his round a little later, as it is one of his regular theater days (Monday is the other one). The breastfeeding consultant Sister B. only came in at about nine, so I had some time to kill and make small talk with the sisters in the reception of the maternity ward.

Ron came shortly after I saw all these people and got my questions and doubts answered. My doctor said that he will sign my discharge paper and give me some instructions for after hospital care. He also said that he will write a prescription for pain tablets and/or suppositories. The tape on the incision can come off on Monday or Tuesday he advised, and apart from that there is only one follow up consultation I need to book with him, six weeks from now.

With all this done, I thought we were all set to leave, but the procedure turned out to be more protracted than we thought. First I needed to get myself ready of course. I had a shower and got into my going-home outfit. The dress that I brought for the purpose was a maternity dress, which Ron bought for me just before we left on holiday to Dominica. It was on sale at the time because it was out of season, and because it is a little summery, it remained in the closet for three months until I discovered it again on the last day of my pregnancy. Luckily it is not a very baggy preggie outfit and can be worn even without a big belly.

Robert had to be checked out of the nursery. The process was lengthy, because it involved bathing him, dressing him in his going home outfit, and checking his records to make sure he had all the necessary shots. Nursery staff also packed his goody bag in preparation for check out, and there were tons of papers to sign, to indemnify the hospital and state that we are taking the correct baby.

For my discharge Ron had to go down to the pharmacy and pay for some hospital medication. I had some left over that I haven’t used up during my hospital stay. Then I had to sign my discharge papers and collect the prescription and instruction of my gynaecologist. All this took almost an hour, then we had to take baby down in the lift in his bassinet/trolley. Meanwhile Ron brought the car to the front, fetched the baby car-seat, and with little help from a nurse we strapped little Robert in. At reception there was then the last matter of signing out and paying for the extras (Thirty Rand for example for a television headphone if I had asked for one). I did not have anything outstanding, so we were given the okay to leave. At the last second, however, somebody said, oh there is still your lunch.. It turned out that the parents are given lunch to take home, so that we will not need to cook as they said. Robert was awake throughout all of this, just sitting quietly in his car-seat, as we waited for the promised meal. The minutes stretched as we loitered around in the lobby and Ron started to get worried. We must have been waiting for fifteen minutes when he decided that he would take Robert into the car. We were just about to head out when a staff member caught up with us and handed me a little carton basket, advising me to be careful because something inside it is broken; I think he meant COULD GET broken, but you never know with South African English. I got the cardboard lunchbox and put it by my feet, and strapped myself into the passenger seat. Ron was already in the driver’s seat and Robert was safely strapped in the backseat. We were all set to drive into the sunshine.

Unfortunately our departure from hospital was just after noon, which is probably one of the worst times for driving in Cape Town. The drive home was long, and the car was hot. We got stuck behind a trailer truck loaded with the late model VWs in front of some car dealership. It got unnerving for both of us because there was no sound from the backseat. I was getting nightmarish images of baby overheating under his blanket or having problems with the sun on his sensitive skin. I opened the window a little but was assaulted with the smell of exhaust, and I thought again of the effect this could have on the little one. By the time we drove into our garage our nerves were a wreck.

Ron handed me the keys to the front door, and I carried up my bag and the lunch, and rushed upstairs to open the doors. He would deal with the car-seat he said. I was upstairs in no time, where I hastily deposited what I was carrying and then looked down from the stairwell window expecting to see Ron with the baby any minute, but he did not show up as quickly as I expected. After a couple of minutes of waiting I got worried and rushed down the steps again to inspect what the problem was. Again the nightmarish scenarios of Ron performing CPR on a suffocating Robert flashed into my brain. I was frantic with worry when I showed up downstairs to see Ron still struggling with the seatbelt around the car-seat. He was so angry and all I could do was rush to his side as he handed me a fully awake Robert and ordered me to go upstairs. He would later describe his experience with the damned car-seat in great detail. When I showed up he was so desperate, he said, he was just about to cut the seatbelt.

Relief was the order of the day as all three of us were finally reunited in the flat. Ron finally managed to free the car-seat without further damages. In the lounge, I saw that Ron had prepared a comfortable armchair for breastfeeding, and set it in the lightest corner of the lounge under the bay windows. I started making use of it immediately; Robert was very thirsty after the hot ride in the car. Meanwhile Ron unpacked lunch and heated it for us, and once again fed me a bite at a time while I was feeding Robert. The baby seemed to have a hard time with his meal. My breasts were the size of bowling balls, and just as hard, and it was such an effort for him to squeeze the nipple into his mouth and get something out. He was howling throughout most of his feed although milk was leaking everywhere. At the time I thought the flow was too much for him to handle.

Robert went to sleep in the car-seat after his afternoon feed, and we retired after that to the dining room, which doubles as our office (computer room). There, I admired the large bunch of flowers on the dining table. It was a beautiful arrangement of yellow, orange and blue flowers; orchids and clivia among others that I cannot name. It took me a few minutes to understand that they were ordered by Robert’s granny and his auntie in Canada. It was such a nice gesture. We made sure to take some photos of Robert with them.

I had lots of email to read and birth announcements to send. I mainly forwarded Robert’s Birth announcement from Medi-Clinic to everyone I knew. The next few days of course I got many congratulations from well-wishers.

I was still on an auto-pilot mode when we came home, and I thought I was over my initial intimidation at handling such a fragile infant. After all, I had changed him a couple of times already at the hospital, and I had the feeding routine down pat. My premature confidence was struck a mortal blow on my maiden attempt at inaugurating the change table in our bathroom. My tiny son was squirming so bad he pushed himself upwards towards the window several times, I kept pulling him towards me, while trying to clean him up; I was all fingers as I tried to wipe up his bum, and his not-yet-fully-healed weenie. In the end he delivered his knock out blow by peeing spectacularly in an arc over his head, enough to make a puddle on the window sill. He was still screaming blue murder by the time I finished. Ron came in after me to clean up the mess.

By late afternoon the day took a turn for the worse weather-wise and Robert got cranky and cried himself to sleep. I had to gulp dinner quickly between feedings and the night was hectic. Ron and I could not get the poor baby to sleep; it seemed that he had lots of gas. We used gripe water which helped some, but still we both had very little sleep as we alternated rocking the crying baby in the cold night. We both hoped this is not the shape of things to come.