Cluster Feeding (or rather, Please just sleep for five more minutes)

Its been a long week. Little Man came into being at 7.05 on Monday morning, and since then its been a mix of sleep deprivation, wondering why he won’t eat, wondering if he’ll ever stop eating, wondering if he’ll ever wake up, wondering if he’ll ever just go to bloody sleep… and some more sleep deprivation on the part of Mammy. 

He currently looks a little like he’d belong on Geordie Shore, in a slightly jaundiced but not medically broken enough to do anything about it way. Which is amusing a little once you know he’s okay, but the fact that its there at all is just something to add to the worry pile.

The last two nights in a row we have been breastfeeding exclusively. I mean this in both senses of the word; not using bottles, and only breastfeeding. The fact that I am writing this at 6.22 in the morning after just settling him back into his cot for (I hope) longer than ten minutes is an indicator that theres something very wrong in Whoville. Not very wrong as such, but my sleep patterns have come to recognise that the second I try to close my eyes, or get comfortable in the hospital bed, the normal whimper and moan will start, and if ignored it will turn into a full on scream within a minute. All for a five minute, maybe ten, feed. That he’s just finished fifteen minutes earlier, for the sixth time in about two hours. Going to bed takes a lot of time. 

Apart from all of that though, he is truly wonderful. It must be love when you’re looking at this little dot who is taking all of your sleep, energy, hurting your boobs (thank you very much milk ducts), and pooing on you, and instead of horror looking at him and seeing how cute he looks today. Madness. 

Arrival

35 hours passed between first gel induction and baby Eliott arriving into the world. 35 very frustrating and dramatic hours, but he’s here now and that’s all that matters.

Now life is different and we must adjust to nappy changes (what in gods name is that stuff?), trying to breast feed/get him to eat at all, and general overall exhaustion.

But he’s here. Life is changed, new adventure has begun.

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Here we Go!

Seems I wasn’t wrong in saying Little Man would soon be on the way; the blood pressure decided enough was enough earlier and so the decision was made to induce me at 37 weeks.

Currently writing this from a bed in the High Dependency Unit, where they’ve applied gels and are letting nature do her thing and be over ridden by synthetic stuff. I’m sure it’s doing great stuff. I can feel it doing something anyway. Hoping it’s actually being productive instead of just arsing around because it’s not exactly a picnic.

Guess we are just going to have to wait and see. I’m being told to take a nap, and they’ll see what progress I’ve made in 25 minutes. Fingers crossed!

Pincushion

I’ve known for months that I have no veins. I’m the one who jokes about being clinically dead when the medical students can’t find my pulse (in either arm), I’ve got one spot on one arm that if its in a good mood will give up a dribble of blood, and I’m pretty sure that its a frustrated sigh from dealing with my arms rather than at having to be working the night shift that numerous nurses have come out with. 

That one vein is my friend normally. Its been behaving for the last two weeks. But last night when I needed a line put in for fluids (to increase my blood pressure, of all things…), that one had already been used to give a blood sample so they decided to try every other vein in my arms. A hard job on most days, but damn near impossible when your hands look like inflated gloves with big sausage fingers and your arms are filled with fluid that has them twice their normal size. Damn pre-eclampsia, you do make me more attractive by the second. 

Two nurses and a doctor later, the remains of me are a pincushion. For holes that didn’t lead to veins there was definitely enough effort in stopping blood from coming out of them upon this decision. And everywhere else is more ouch filled than that one lovely (now very bruised in an X marks the Spot way) well used vein. And to add insult to injury, the canula fell out by this morning so theres a chance that I’ll have to do the whole thing again later. Hospital life, you are the anti-craic. 

On the other hand, we seem to be playing roulette with the blood pressure at the moment, or rather my body is getting too used to the copious doses of medication to treat it and needs more and more. Which is mellowing out the Little Man a bit too much. May be seeing him sooner than we thought. 

 

All of the Bed Rest

Pre-eclampsia. Thou art my enemy. My puffy ankles and high blood pressure glare at you from this hospital bed. 

37 weeks pregnant and now in hospital until the end. Gah. The end is in sight but still. Still. My sofa is at home and I am not. The not-completely-finished hospital bag is at home and I am not.  This may require work. 

On the upside, I have found the wifi. Which means I don’t have to do this from my phone, but from my laptop, which makes it a bit less irritating (and also offers me the option to do multiple things at once, like browsing multiple procrastination sites at the same time while googling “fastest way to get healthy baby out early”). 

It also meant I got to watch Greys Anatomy at 5.30am this morning when I was woken up to get my blood pressure checked and couldn’t sleep because of the snoring in the beds around me and the crying babies down the hall. At least this is prep for functioning on very little sleep… 

Have to start thinking of ideas of things to do though – having spent 12 out of the last 14 days in hospital, I’m kind of exhausting the crosswords (but have started entering the competitions online!) and the staring out the window is getting depressing. Please send all ideas on a postcard. 

Still trapped.

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This is a colour scheme I am getting rather rapidly sick of.
Been told three times this week “You can go home if…” And each time my body has failed me. My blood pressure has decided it doesn’t like me, and goes all lovely and low in the mornings but decides half way through the day that’s no fun, and up it goes. Today it meant having to miss the “how to get the kid out” antenatal class. I assume this means that due to lack of training I can sit this one out, and wake up and be handed a kid, right? If not this is an idea I endorse a trial run of!

I’m like an old woman who eats nothing but salt. This is not my idea of a “glow”.

It was sunny today though, and worryingly enough, the food was not only tasty but filling. So either I had a last supper and nobody has clued me in (it came with cake, and cream cheese crackers, both put aside for later! Never happens!), or my appetite has suppressed during the week. Either way normally by now I am STARVING (half four last meal, hello) and I’m just nicely full, still. Miracle.

I do have to get the second steroid injection tonight though. Not something high on my bucket list if anything like the first – I’m not bad with needles but oh sweet god the sting as the stuff goes into your system!! It will all be worth it when baby gremlin comes out all “check out my awesome breathing skills”, especially if early, but in no way does it get a good Trip Advisor review for fun activities in Cork.

Hopefully I will manage to escape over the weekend and have something to write about that isn’t hospital food or blood pressure related, but time will tell.