Part 1 is right here.
I made a home video that is sure to be the next big hit. It’s got a baby and a dog. And Lauryn Hill. And a half-naked man.
All the ingredients for a massive hit.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2j8D_rTffI
PS. Seriously, please ignore the semi-naked person in the background. We were trying to avoid it, which explains why Tru’s head was cut off during some parts.
Seriously, the waiting is KILLING ME. I’ve tried every natural birth induction method (except acupuncture because you will have to kill me before I’m allowing anyone to stick needles in my body) since friday and none of it is working. I have been more or less confined to the toilet for some serious business, but other than that, there isn’t even the slightest sign that Kirsten is coming out.
It’s probably way too comfy inside, what with all the goodies I’ve been feeding her and all that water to swim around in. It’s like a permanent spa. Come to think of it, I’d probably not want to come out if I were her.
I haven’t the slightest clue what labor feels like and I’ve been asking everyone who’s ever given birth to describe it to me. The forums aren’t that helpful either. Some say it feels like you need to take a massive crap, and others say it’s like the mother of all menstrual cramps. It’s supposed to be a dull, throbbing pain that comes and goes every few minutes. Mostly, the consensus is that the pain is so bad you lose all control of your mental faculties.
Not that helpful, cos my stomach feels like its in knots all the time. And with the amount of laxatives I’ve been taking, I seriously can’t tell the difference. Every time I feel some tightening in my stomach, I wash my hair and prepare to fly down to the hospital, but apparently, none of it is the real thing. I’m still here and Kirsten is still inside. And now I’ve got really clean hair.
When I last checked on Thursday, she’d already hit 3.3kg, which is already bigger than Tru was when he was born. At the rate she’s going, I’m going to have to squeeze a 4 kg monster of a child out of my thing, which also increases the risk of a wound rupture, which means that I could end up waiting all this time and having to go for another c-section. Gah!
I’m so desperate I’ve even tried to go all new age and visualize my cervix opening up like a flower, (complete with the nirvana music, as I would like to call it) although half the time I’m giggling at how retarded the mental image is.
Now I’ve missed the 4th of July and I can’t show off having an independence day baby. I’ll just end up having my kid on another boring, non-cool date. I hate it when that happens.
And it’s all thanks to my uncooperative cervix.
breastfeeding
Believe it or not, I’m actually envious of women with squirty breasts. Some women seem to be able to produce enough milk to feed a small province in China and still have enough to spare. I once went to a friend’s place and her freezer was overflowing with bottles of breast milk. I, on the other hand, have barely enough to feed a tiny kitten.
Partly thanks to the c-section the first time around, I literally had no milk for the first 5-6 days. Not even a drop. I was hell bent on breastfeeding Tru in the hospital, so I voluntarily endured some brutal breast-manhandling by the lactation consultant (who didn’t seem to notice that my breasts were actually attached to nerves and kneaded and pinched my areola like she was rolling dough). And even then, still nothing. Zilch. Every time I latched Tru on to feed, he’d suckle for a few minutes, then stop abruptly and scream for dear life.
The nurse was trying to console me by saying that newborns don’t really need much milk for the first few days, but looking at my helpless little bundle screaming for food, it was too much for me to bear. By the second day, I caved and fed him formula milk as a supplement. From then on, he figured out it was much easier drinking from a bottle and refused to latch directly to drink. The only option was for me to express the milk and feed from the bottle.
So for the first month, my daily schedule consisted of feeding (30 minutes), burping (15 minutes), rocking him to sleep (45 minutes) expressing milk (60 minutes). I’d emerge an hour later with a measly 20 ml of milk (that’s from both breasts, mind you). By the time I was done expressing, it was time to start the whole cycle all over again.
I was so immensely jealous of moms that could fill up a 200 ml bottle in 30 minutes. I even heard that some women have so much milk that when the baby stops drinking, milk would be squirting out in all directions (WAY COOL!)
In fact, I was convinced that my boobs were broken and it’s a miracle I even lasted a whole month. I was too bummed by the fact that my game plan for losing weight had vanished into thin air (the hopes, not the fats).
Very soon, I’ll have another shot at breastfeeding and I AM GOING TO MAKE IT HAPPEN. To aid the process, I’ve gotten all the breastfeeding devices I could think of, like a co-sleeper that attaches to my bed so I’ve got easy access to her during all hours of the night, a breastfeeding pillow for proper positioning and support, a state of the art breast pump to provide the necessary stimulation and a ton of herbs that’s supposed to increase the milk supply.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed that somehow, my breasts will miraculously start squirting milk in the next 2 weeks. I’d take leaky breasts over spoilt ones any day.
