The Six Week Knees Up!
“How many weeks pregnant are you?” is the question I have been asked this week. Every. Woman's. Nightmare.
I should put this into context though, as to be fair to my body, I have been fortunate to be able to fit into most of my pre-preggo clothes again. The woman's mistake came from the fact that I was back up at the Maternity Ward as I needed a post-birth appointment. The member of staff (who was assisting before the appointment) made other assumptions. Baby and Husband were in the waiting room as the lady proceeded to take my blood pressure and ask for urine (neither of which, I later understood, was relevant to my appointment.) The lady did not speak the best English, and so the conversation went- no exaggerations- exactly like this:
Her, “So, how many weeks are you?”
I reply, “6,” assuming she must mean how many weeks post-partum.
She looked confused: “No, how many weeks?”
Me: “I had my baby six weeks ago.”
Her: “36?”
Me: “No...I had a baby six weeks ago.” (I was starting to get irritated- should I shower the contents of my changing bag over my head to get the message across, lady?)
Her, “And how many weeks pregnant are you now?” (Reeaaallllyy?)
Me: “No! I'm not pregnant again! I'm here for a post natal check up as I had a baby six weeks ago!”
To which the reply I received was: “Oh. Ok.” And off she went!! What is life?
Six weeks is supposed to be quite significant as it's the time that Google forums label 'the evil growth spurt.' It hasn't been 'evil' by any means, but it's just meant more feeding (would you believe?) and increased grizzling because the poor little thing doesn't understand why she feels uncomfortable. And she grows fast- so I imagine she does feel strange.
We've also been introduced to the 'witching hour' around 6pm, where she becomes a bit unconsolable; suffers from trapped wind; and just seems 'fussy.' The only thing that seems to comfort her is sticking her on the boob or laying her down and holding her knees up towards her chest. I've read it's just a phase.
Well...obviously it's just a phase... I don't see many adults who, after a curry, emanate bleeting cries; punch their arms around; require a parent to hold their knees up; and search for the nearest nipple!
I never knew breastfeeding was so time consuming though. No wonder new Mums can't keep on top of life, whether in a growth spurt week or not (no idea whether I'm drinking out of cups that have been through the dishwasher or cups that I've put in the dishwasher to be washed...)
I always knew babies needed to be fed often, but I had no idea that I could be an everlasting gobstopper. This is my recording of a day this week, and most of my days are honestly similar to this:
Fed between-
7.00-7.32am
9.20-9.35
10.54-11.06
11.50am-12.01pm
14.02-14.17
14.43-15.10
15.32-16.07
17.40-18.06
18.42-18.55
19.03-19.17
22.55-23.08
There's been quite a few more things I've come to learn this week.
I've learnt about babies:
There's a breastfeeding position called 'koala' which is supposed to help wind (for the baby, not for me.)
My daughter can mistake a beach ball for my breast (at baby development class this week, the babies had tummy time on beach balls- little one tried suckling it! I feel honoured!!)
Baby has started to crack a few smiles. Most smiles are still because of wind, but I never knew a windy smile could warm my heart as well as my lap (but nobody else need try.)
Babies don't age men (a salesman came to the door this week and genuinely asked my Husband, "Are your parents in?" Whhaaattt.)
I've also learnt some things about life:
You can make a cake in a slow cooker. Husband's project.
There's more to rugby than bundling and cauliflower heads. (We had friends round for the England vs. Wales game which basically involved a spreadsheet of game-relevant rules. What the heck's a conversion if it's not religious?!)
I do not understand sugar paper. (It was my sister's birthday and I booked us a gorgeous afternoon tea at The Essex in Godshill. It was Alice in Wonderland themed and there was a little 'eat me' sign. Took it literally. I'm still unsure whether it was sugar paper or just paper. If it was sugar paper, shouldn't it taste like sugar as well as paper?? Anyone know?)
And finally- it's hilarious to tell your Husband that you may or may not have put breastmilk in his milkshake...just for funsies.....!!!
Anyway, that's all I've got time for today folks, I've got a date with the dishwasher.
