Groundhog day

Dare I say it, but Rex and I seem to finally have broken the back of this feeding malarkey. As much as I really don’t want to tempt fate, we both seem to have finally worked out what the hell is going on. I cannot tell you what a weight off it is to know that I am actually able to feed my child, as ridiculous as that sounds. However, as we are slowly starting to find a routine, my days, at the moment, are very reminiscent of Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, living the same day over and over again. Although sadly mine doesn’t include a cuddly little Groundhog that predicts the weather.

This is going to sound awful, but I was chatting to the Oracle about this recently and she said the same, the first few weeks are the least rewarding when it comes to having a baby. Before anyone starts going beserk, I don’t mean I don’t love or cherish my son, I obviously do, but at the moment, our relationship is very one-sided. I feed, change, rock him to sleep and comfort him, and while I love every minute of it, there’s very little emotional interaction at the moment.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that is simply part of being a mum and I would never want to wish this time away, but I genuinely cannot wait to see Rex recognise me and react to that recognition. He often smiles when he has wind at the moment and it absolutely breaks me, I just can’t wait to see him smile at me because he knows who I am, rather it coming about because of his rather impressive bowel movements (that’s my boy! 😉 ).

The still of the night

Oh NOW you want to sleep, huh? 😉 ❤ 


You’d be forgiven for thinking that there is just no winning with me, given the fact that I have just harped on about getting to grips with breastfeeding, I am now about to moan about it. I’m not lying when I say that I love breastfeeding Rex. When I was pregnant, I genuinely didn’t know if I would take to it, the thought of another human being hanging of your nipple was not a feeling I thought I would particularly enjoy. But now that we’ve managed to sort our shit out, I love doing it. However, there is a time that I don’t love doing it and that is that dead of the night feed. For all those mums and dads out there, you know the one I mean. Whether your baby is bottle or breastfed, that feed at anywhere between 0100 and 0400 is a lonely place, a very lonely place indeed.

When you are woken at that time of the night, you’re so tired that it takes everything in you to stay awake while you watch your baby feed, willing him/her, in the nicest possible way, to hurry the fuck up so you can go back to sleep. I’ve started doing some research to try and cope with these feeds. Last night’s Google search…

‘At what age do babies sleep through the night?’

If Google could talk, I think the answer woud’ve gone something like this…

*hysterical laughter* ‘Your baby is only three weeks old, you fucking cretin!’

Ok, ok, so maybe that was a bit of wishful thinking. But a girl can dream, right? Oh, wait… 😉

To be fair to him, I’ve been lucky so far in that Rex pretty much falls straight back to sleep after he’s fed. But the other night, he woke at 0330, fed and then would not go back to sleep. I did everything to settle him, in the end he had his dummy, but every time it fell out he woke up again. After an hour of this, I looked over at Eamo, who was fast asleep, and it was everything in me to not slap him to wake him up. What a lucky man he is, I hear you say 😉

In the dead of the night, while I’m struggling to stay awake and try to get Rex back to sleep, the sense of resentment I feel towards him sometimes is overwhelming. It’s so hard because I know it’s not his fault, I have chosen to breastfeed our son and there’s nothing he can really do, but in the dead of the night when all you want to do is sleep and he’s just led there away with the fairies, it’s so hard not to want to wake him just so he is suffering too.

I obviously didn’t, and as soon as I wake in the morning any resentment I feel disappears, but I did speak to him about it the other day because I don’t want it to fester. I know if he could help, he would. And I also know he has to get up for  work when I can (usually) take a nap in the day. But reminding myself of that at 3am isn’t always easy. As always, he was brilliant, and suggested that after four weeks we start introducing a bottle so I can get a longer rest inbetween feeds at night. So as of next weekend, we’re gonna give it a go. It will be nice for the two of them to have that time too, so fingers crossed he’s not as fussy with bottles as he has been with my boobs!

Pump action

Don’t worry, that’s not code. I’m not talking about bedroom activities, much to Eamo’s dismay. I am still very much in the ‘you’re not coming anywhere near me’ camp on that one, unfortunately for him. All good things come to those who wait babe ;). I’m actually on about breast pumps. As you know, my left knocker is probably about two sizes bigger than my right at the moment, which is not ideal. We are also going to start introducing a bottle in the night feeds as of next weekend so, wanting to make sure my milk supply was kept up from both boobs, I hired a breast pump.

Having used a hand pump up until this point, I was actually quite excited to get one that I could just stick on and not get cramp in my hand from using. But, in true ‘me’ style, this has yet to work as I imagined. While I know my right boob is still producing milk, the pump, so far, manages to get very little, I’m talking around 10-20ml. Why is this?? I did a bit of research in the early hours of the morning, as you do, and someone suggested hand expressing before to get the flow going. So I did that this morning and managed to squeeze more out with my sodding hand than with the bastard pump I’ve just paid £50 to hire! Has anyone else used a pump? Is it something that takes a while to get going? Or am I doing something wrong – stupid question, huh? 😉

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