‘Theo… let’s get you home baby!’


I’m the most impatient person you will ever meet. And so I was super happy knowing that I was getting to take my baby home! The car seat was my husband’s responsibility and, considering that I was pretty uncomfortable, it was his job to get Theo all strapped in. It’s mid Nov, the 13th precisely, fairly chilly and I notice my husband faffing!

‘Babe.. what are you doing?’

‘I’m not 100% sure how to plug all this in…..’

I suddenly realise how calm I am. Oh my gosh, I didn’t overreact! Normally, I go from 1 to 10 over nothing (thanks pregnancy hormones) but not today! Today is the second best day of my life (other than giving birth, obviously!) and all that matters is that we get him home safely.
Fortunately for us, there’s a picture on the side of the car seat spelling it out pretty clearly!

In the two days that my husband has been home while I’ve been in the hospital, he has managed to get a lot of the house organised. We’d just moved in, remember, so don’t judge that homecoming day was the day he built the stand for Theo’s moses basket. All his new clothes were washed ready for him to wear and his teddy bears all lined up.

Walking over that threshold with my gorgeous little bundle was amazing; such a liberating feeling knowing that he was mine. I’d grown him in my tummy for 9 months, pushed him out and now I get to look after him forever. Bliss!

The first few days went by in a flash. We had lots of visitors coming to see Theo, each and every one of them falling in love with him the minute they set eyes on him. He was a beautiful newborn! Although I am biased, I was so proud of him. What I couldn’t help but notice was this underlying feeling that I didn’t recognise. It wasn’t something I’d never felt before and it took me a while to comprehend it. Every minute of every day for at least the first 10 days, I was constantly paranoid that he was going to get ill or something was going to happen to him. It unexpectedly dawned on me that what I was feeling was worry!

I mean, of course, I’ve worried before but about whether I had enough money for a night out or whether I could afford to pay this month’s credit card bill. But not this kind of worry. It was all consuming, and completely overwhelming! I honestly felt like, if it carried on that way, I would find it difficult to function as a human being. I started to cry randomly, and sometimes hysterically. I just loved him so much that it took over my being. It’s what every mother, and parent feels about their child. Like you would die for them!

Fortunately, as each day passed, I began to forget about the worry. It’s always going to be there but I don’t notice it at all anymore. It is part of who I am. What I now know are baby blues are long gone… out the window for me, which I’m happy about (of course!)

So now it’s time to try and get back to some sort of normality. As you’ve all probably read in my previous post about routine, it was something of a priority for me! I wanted to feel normal myself, and get Theo set so I could function. Some of our first nights were spent trying to establish how we’re going to get this bubba to sleep. One particular night, I was really struggling to get him comfortable. I would lay him in his moses basket and he would startle and wake himself up. I couldn’t understand it.

‘I’ve tucking him in with blankets just like in the hospital. Why won’t he go to sleep?’

Then suddenly I remember. The night I went into labour, I had a baby shower-esque get together at my aunty’s house, and she’d given me a fluffy swaddle bag, newborn size!

‘Oh my god…. I can use that!’

I tuck my little nugget in, arms all wrapped up and lay him back in his basket. Et voila! Asleep… NAILED IT! I was so happy. I’d used my noggin, and figured out exactly what my baby needed all by myself (well… sort of! If she hadn’t bought me it, I’d probably still be struggling now!)

It’s a great feeling when you get it right. It builds your confidence as a mum, because no one gives you a handbook when you leave that hospital. It’s just one GIANT guessing game! The one thing, for me, that I would love for every expectant mum out there to take away from this is that those first days are hard. You’re exhausted, and quietly stressed. You’ve never met this baby before, and knowing them doesn’t come with a click of your fingers. It is totally normal to feel overwhelmed, and feeling guilty about it, only makes it drag on unnecessarily!

Theo is 6 weeks old and thriving every day. He’s gaining weight and growing like there’s no tomorrow. He’s sleeping, and staying awake longer… but I start to notice that when I’m breastfeeding him, he’s fussing at the breast. He feeds for about 20 minutes and then refuses to latch on again unless I switch breasts. I’m so worried that he’s not getting my hind milk and so isn’t filling himself up properly.

I begin to count the minutes between his feeds, dreading what’s in store and, for some reason, I can’t avoid it. I continuously call my mum trying to unpick her experiences with breastfeeding, to see whether she has ever had this sort of problem.

‘What more can I do, other than to try and force him to latch…?’

The only time it works well is at night, when he’s half asleep. He doesn’t feed for hours, and falls asleep pretty quick. But as soon as morning comes, it’s back to the grind.

I call my husband.

‘Babe… I think I’m gonna stop breastfeeding…’

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