Mothering

It's been forty two days since the little guy took his first breath of Hong Kong air. I'd been meaning to write posts about the whole birth/mother experience on a regular basis, but sadly the first lesson I learnt about it was that there is no time to spare. Still, better late than never.

First up - the birth. Everyone's heard the horror stories about deliveries, and so I took a week of maternity ahead of my due date to find my inner zen (and to hang out with my mother before life totally changed). Unfortunately, RJ decided that he would rather be late to the party, and so I found myself checking into the Hotel Matilda on the 7th of August to get induced. This wasn't a particularly unpleasant process, though the Hubs and I ended up listening to the screams of women in labour while waiting for the onset of mine. This turned out to be somewhat anti-climatic as I ended up on a "walking epidural", which left me a little numb from hips down, but still left me able to walk (albeit lopsided). I could feel the odd contraction, but it never really hurt - the Tens machine actually hurt much more. Unfortunately, this meant that 22 hours later, this was the result

(showing the amount the could have fit vs the amount that needed to fit). RJ ended up pooing while he was struggling to get his oval peg through the round (?) hole, and 20 minutes later I was in an operating theatre with a slightly strained Hubs in scrubs.

Scans to this point had suggested that RJ was going to be a nicely average eight pound baby, which would have been a nice number to go with the eight-eight-one-one date of birth. The first clue we had that he might be a little larger was after the incision was made for the C-section, and the OB tried to get him out. We heard her say "Hang On" and then she had to make another incision. Seconds later, we were parents to a screaming near-ten pound baby who needed to get poo pumped out of his lungs. Not exactly an auspicious start to his life, given the date and all. Still, at least I managed to get the anaesthetist to skip the Natasha Bedingfield tracks on his ipod, preventing RJ from an inauspicious musical start to life.

All in all I think I had a pretty good birth experience. I felt pretty much nothing but dehydrated and lopsided for a couple of hours. The incision(s) didn't hurt much since there was a competing source of pain (more on this later). A C-section meant he was a pretty baby too, and didn't have a mekon head for more than a couple of days. The Matilda hospital experience is incredible. We were in a room with a view, room service that included dishes like osso bucco, an excellent spag bol and a mean burger, as well as midwives on call. Bless those midwives. We stayed at the Matilda for a week and those midwives were amazing. We made the decision to dive headfirst into parenting and had him rooming in with us. Every time RJ needed anything, a midwife or nurse would appear and show us what to do. As a result, the first week of RJ's life went by really smoothly. We even had a couple of parties, since the food was so good.

Sadly, all good things had to come to an end, and we were left to take the five day old child home in our care. It was terrifying. It still is. Without the nurses and midwives there to ensure we were doing things right, I managed to get breastfeeding wrong, and had cracked nipples within the week. This led me to a whole new understanding of pain. I remember reading about how the Japanese tortured Elizabeth Choy by electrocuting her via her nipples. I cannot comprehend how she withstood it. The pain of feeding took me pretty much to the brink of homicide. Every time RJ cried I literally wished him away. Even when he was sleeping adorably, I would view him with trepidation and something fairly close to hate. If my parents hadn't been there, I'm fairly sure I would have sunk into PND. Thankfully, I had my parents, a weekly midwife visit and two doctors on call to get me through. One of the best bits of advice that I received was from the midwife, who said that when I was verging on mastitis, I should pump all the milk out of my breast, letting the pump keep going for two hours after the initial milk flow stops if it comes to it. That broke my fever and stopped my breasts aching so much that I was in tears.

The breastfeeding experience, now winding down as I put RJ on bottles, did teach me something. If ever I have to give a gift to someone having a baby who is hoping to breastfeed, it shall be this:
- lanolin
- breastpads
- breastshells
- More nipple cream (I like this one better)
- fenugreek (though this makes you smell funny)
... and ideally midwife visits.

I have to admit that, despite the initial misgivings, RJ's managed to totally charm me. Now that the pain is fleeting (despite the cracks persisting), I can appreciate that he's a good baby. He feeds every three hours or so generally, and manages a five hour stretch in the evening. He's responsive and pretty (apart from the odd bout of baby acne). He also smells pretty good. That's right - I've been suckered.