Man to Man: A Letter from David to Adam

After Emily was born, David wrote up his side of the birth story. I asked him to write something for Adam too but we both forgot for a while. I reminded him again last week and here is what I found in my inbox last night. I absolutely love it and had to share it with you all. Enjoy.


"Hi little man – let me tell you a little story about how you came into this world

"You're nearly three months old now and you already know us … you know that when I put that cloth over my shoulder I am about to pick you up, and you smile. But there's plenty you don't know yet. You'll learn … those bright little eyes of yours miss very little … but let me take you back, to a place you don't remember …

"You were conceived in England and born in Malta … and your mother, from the day we had decided to move back to Malta, had one obsession. That she wanted, to the extent possible and medically advisable, to have you by a natural birth … no surgery, no fancy procedures … naturally … the way she had your sister. You've realised by now that you are a very lucky boy … you have a fantastic mum, and part of what makes her fantastic is a determination to do the right thing, to give you and your sister the best she possibly can … and that was, in her mind, a natural birth. She was very obviously born to be a mother, I know that and anyone who sees her with you and your sister comes to realise it pretty quickly, so as a mother she wanted to do what her body was made to do.

"One other thing you'll realise is that we are blessed with two amazing women in our family … and two amazingly hard-headed women. So I went along with what she wanted … not because I had to (although I did), but because she was right and because this was her experience. I was just along for the ride, to make her life as easy as I possibly could.

"I won't bore you with all the hassles we had before you arrived. One positive of all of those hassles is that we got to see you quite often and I for one was not complaining. But your mother was stressed, and I was stressed that she was stressed (you'll realise it's going to be a recurrent theme at home). 

"We were silly that night (and we still are many nights) and we paid the price as you announced that you would be arriving at around 3 in the morning. We were wide awake pretty quickly but we just hadn't had enough rest. We had your grandma over at 3:30, said goodbye to your sister (it was hard not to cry because she looked like an angel and her world was about to change … all our worlds changed … for the better … but your sister had no idea what was coming). 

"As we drove to the hospital we were apprehensive. Mummy wasn't in pain really and we had no idea what to expect. With Emily she was contracting regularly … with you it felt more relaxed … the contractions were bearable, we were chatting and the adrenaline just wasn't there to start off with. At 5 I was falling asleep, struggling to keep my eyes open, but then at some point in time a switch flipped. Your mother needed me. 

"You'll realise as you grow up that as a man you will have many roles, but the one I really hope you live up to is the role of the rock. The women in our lives are beautiful, impulsive, emotional, real … and as independent as they are (and believe me your sister will really be something) they will need a shoulder to cry on, a kind word (or a harsh one sometimes). That's where me and you come in, my little man … to help them be the amazing women we know they are, for those times when they just need that little reminder. 

"But I digress. The rest passed quite quickly. Your mother was a real trooper … she dealt with the pain fantastically, but you'll realise she has some really weird quirks. She kept crying because you weren't coming fast enough, because she needed a bit of help from the midwife … because it wasn't perfect … as if perfect was ever on the agenda (but then again, your mummy is a bit of a lot weird – take it from me). 

"But then perfect was front and centre of the agenda … because quicker than expected you turned up. And your father once again became a blubbering wreck. I cried, yes I did. You were a beautiful, healthy baby boy … your mother had delivered you the way she wanted to, naturally … there were no complications like there had been with your sister … and I could feel my heart swelling with love for you. And I mean swelling … because after your mother and your sister I was genuinely worried that I could love no more … until you turned up. It was like my heart grew … a heart that felt full with your mother and sister, just got fuller. I couldn't stop looking at you. I couldn't wait to see your sister fall in love with you … and fall in love with you she did. 

"Your arrival has made us complete. Thank you little man. For who you are, for your smile, for all you have done and all you will do, thank you."

I said it last time and I'll say it again, Emily and I are very lucky girls to have these strong men in our lives. 

Living a New Reality

[he is quite perfect]

[it's amazing how long a handful of birthday cards can be used for entertainment]

These two are inspirational. They adore each other. They calm each other. They're already inseparable 12 days in.

Emily
She is still very insecure about us disappearing again, still cries out at night for seemingly no reason. She is struggling slightly with the new division of attention but has also recently become very affectionate with us. We are getting some amazingly tight hugs. She loves Adam more than she can begin to comprehend, he is her first port of call every morning, and she finds it difficult to not smother him in kisses every waking moment. 

Adam
He is an amazing baby. We thought Emily was a good baby but he's gone and properly shown her up! He sleeps well, he's happy and is becoming very attentive and alert. He adores Emily and is calmed by the sound of her voice. He is a very cuddly baby, loves being swaddled (as long as he is given access to his hands), he appears to possibly be a thumb-sucker, and already seems very ticklish.

Us
David and I expected that the arrival of a newborn would take our relationship a few steps back but it hasn't. Instead, it's reaffirmed everything and made us closer. There's more affection, more "wow we've done this again," and overall, we're doing good. Having more than 3 hours of sleep a night also helps.

Personally, baby blues haven't hit as badly this time round. I suspect the sunshine has had a lot to do with that. Recovery was longer, all of 10 days of feeling like a wreck as opposed to about 5 after Emily. But we're finally past that. 

Now, if only I can make myself realize that we're barely two weeks in, and I cannot expect to have everything under control quite yet, everything would be perfect. But as usual I'm busy being hard on myself and forgetting how new this family dynamic is, expecting to have perfected every aspect of it already. One of these days I'll cut myself some slack. Maybe.

Adam's Birth Story, Part II

Disclaimer: I won't try to deny it. This is a birth story, there will be talk of things some people find disgusting, even unmentionable. You are free to read on, or you are free to close the window now. It's your choice and I take no responsibility for it!

[Read Part I]

So we slept. And just before 3am, I woke up to use the loo, just like I always did. I stumbled into the ensuite in darkness (the only way I could afterwards ensure I'd get back to sleep), and sat on the loo. Something felt weird. Something wasn't right. This was way too much wee. And it didn't seem to be coming out of the right place either. I sat there wondering what to do - darkness and semi-conscious state not helping. I'd worn a maternity pad the night before because of the bleeding, which came in useful. I decided there's no way this could be my waters, so I got back up and tried to get back to bed.

I barely made it to the bathroom door and my pj trousers were drenched. I think I may have stood there, light now on, wondering what to do for a few moments. I stared at myself in the mirror, confused. I'd mentioned it several times before to friends - I didn't think there was any chance of my waters breaking early this time. Despite the "Hollywood Gush" we so often see in movies, it's actually a very small percentage of pregnancies where labour starts off with waters breaking. It had already happened to me with Emily. There was no way it would happen again.

Wrong.

This time, at least, David wasn't two hours away and unreachable.

I shouted his name and he was awake. "I think my waters have broken." (Stupid statement of the year right there.) "I don't know what to do, should I call the midwife?"

No, I called my mother. I couldn't bring myself to wake a relative stranger up at 3am. My mother encouraged me to call her, and the midwife, Anna, knew it was me right away. She asked me to head to hospital just to monitor baby and ensure all was well, as I wasn't yet contracting although I could feel that the cramps had gotten slightly worse. The plan of action was to meet her there after my mother arrived to take care of Emily

Emily. Oh God. I couldn't leave her, I couldn't do this. Adrenaline pumping through my body, I began shaking uncontrollably (I remembered this well from last time) and couldn't think straight. I decided it was the right time to bring some more of Emily's books out of the storage bags they'd been in for weeks. Yes, that irrational.

I then dressed up and ate an apple. I went into Emily's room to say bye and whisper an explanation to her sleeping self, trying not to cry. And I waited for my mother to get here.

The first contraction hit around 4am as I got into the car, but there were no others after it, just cramps. We got to the hospital and all I could think of was the amazing smell of baking bread coming from the bakers' in the pjazza.

At around 5am, Anna checked me and I was 2cm dilated. Good start, considering it was on the back of just one proper contraction. We considered going back home to wait until the contractions really kicked in, but with rush hour looming and my instincts telling me I should stay put (they haven't failed me once recently), we decided to stay.

I wanted an active birth this time so I stood back up and that was when the contractions began in earnest. We never got round to timing them this time, not properly anyway. There was a point where we acknowledged that, hmm they were coming quicker now, but I was coping well, many times carrying on the conversation through contractions, and tweeting in between. If I laid down or sat down, the contractions stopped. Once I stood back up, they came back with a vengeance. Not your typical labour, but it was certainly happening.

By 6am I was at about 5.5cm and still coping very well. My TENS machine wasn't even out of it's bag yet. I wasn't quite talking through contractions any longer though. I randomly mentioned to David that I had a feeling we would be done by 9am.

By 8am I was at 8cm, but getting very tired and annoyed at myself for going to bed so late. The Lucozade was what kept me going, and I finally asked for the TENS. I know I was also aware that Emily would now be awake and I suspect this put me on edge slightly.

And then transition. At this point, things changed. I started saying (daft) things I have no recollection of, and I began to lose confidence. Anna had explained that although he was engaged, Adam wasn't low enough. This is possibly what made Emily's second stage last so long too. So she had to help him out a little bit with every contraction. I was in no mood to cooperate, especially because this hurt more than the contractions themselves.

I started feeling the need to push, but I was stuck at 9.5cm, so more help. For most of third stage, I was squatting, leaning against David. As had happened with Emily, my contractions weren't strong enough so I was given a Syntometrine injection to help things along (as well as to ensure my placenta delivered this time), and another one soon after as the first wasn't doing enough. I asked David to get the TENS off me, damn wire kept getting tangled in my arm.

Soon I was too tired to stay on my feet any longer. All I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. I know the thought crossed my mind to ask everyone to leave at one point. I just wanted to be done with it, I was bored of being in pain, fed up, and just so very tired.

Suddenly I noticed everyone getting excited. He was coming. What? We hadn't been at this for hours yet! Somewhere deep inside, something woke up and helped me through that last bit. Within a few pushes, his head was out, then his body, then suddenly - what seemed to be out of nowhere - I was holding my beautiful, vernixy, wailing baby. And I fell in love all over again. Madly.

I asked David what time it was. He checked his watch. "What time did you say he'd be here by?" "Nine," I replied. "It's 8:58!" I had been pushing for all of about 25 minutes.

My placenta delivered within minutes - a moment full of relief after over two hours of waiting last time! We had asked Anna earlier for the cord to be left to pulsate before it was cut, and when it did stop, David again wasn't keen to cut it, so I did instead (and quite pleased about it too!)

Adam was still screaming away, we managed some skin to skin but he wasn't pinking up fast enough so he was transferred to an incubator for a while until he warmed up enough. In the meantime I was given the happy news that I needed no stitches and tried to relax, but the contractions kept going and were getting worse again. About an hour later, several very large blood clots were delivered (!) and then it all thankfully calmed down.

We had a room ready for me and Adam next door, and were eager to be transferred there, but I needed a shower first. I looked like I was part of a murder investigation. I felt fine so Anna helped me up and into the shower and suddenly, everything almost went black. So quickly back to bed it was and I had a quick flannel wash and then really quickly moved next door (near black out again). Some lunch solved the problem but I was unable to get back out of bed on my own until very late that evening, simply due to being too achey!

I am told that one of the things I kept going on about during transition was the lack of perfection. I wasn't doing it well, it wasn't as perfect as it should have been, I should be doing this, I should be doing that. I don't even recall saying these things so I can't possibly begin to understand what I was on about, but looking back, if there was anything this birth was, it was perfect. I am so pleased to have fought for this and to have been given the chance to do it all over again. And more than anything, I am grateful to the people who supported me in getting a natural birth, safely, and for delivering my beautiful son to my arms.

Adam John

Born 21st March 2013 at 8:58am

Weighing 3.4kg / 7lbs 5oz

With special thanks to the team at St James Hospital, Zabbar,

my parents and in-laws for taking care of Emily while we were "checking Mummy's tummy",

and of course, my super, amazing husband for being a rock and never leaving my side.

Leaving, And Then Arriving

Well hello.

Um.

I don't know where to start really.

We did it. We moved. It was hard leaving England. Really hard. There were goodbyes to be said. Difficult, heartwrenching goodbyes. There were tears (many tears), long embraces and promises made.

The packers turned my perfectly organised life upside down. They combined things in boxes that should never have been put together. More tears. They packed Emily's dummy. Lord only knows where that ended up. I am not looking forward to unpacking. When our things arrive, I may just bury my head in the sand.

Then the house was empty. It was hollow and sad. Emily was confused, she hated the boxes and especially hated the fact that her toys kept disappearing. I couldn't walk into the living room without tears threatening again. I guess that's where we really did all our "living" - memories of us moving in, building furniture on that first Christmas Eve in the house, preparing for our wedding, opening wedding gifts, Emily as a newborn, Emily growing up, it all happened in there. Everyone says the memories stay with you, which is true - they do, but saying goodbye to those walls still slightly killed me.

We lasted for a day with nothing much in the house. Emily slept in a borrowed travel cot in our old room, we slept on the futon in the spare room.

And then it was time to leave. Ouch.

This was our final glimpse of the house as we closed the door. More tears.

The further away from Rochester the taxi got, the easier it became to breathe. That evening, the British sun bid us a beautiful sunset farewell and every minute that passed, it all got a little bit easier.

Arriving in Malta wasn't without it's potential disasters. A suitcase missing upon arrival - especially when you're moving country and have therefore packed all your essentials (in this case, David's suits, shirts, shoes for work on Monday) - is not a welcome anyone wants. Luckily however, it was returned a few hours later (someone had picked it up by mistake) and disaster was averted. We could finally relax and that was when it truly felt like we had arrived.

So, you ask, how are we settling in? It's going well - very, very well. I'd say we've settled far quicker than we could ever have imagined. Emily, despite initially being a bit confused as to why Daddy would go to work when we're in Malta, has adapted amazingly. She loves having so many people around her, loves the attention, loves being able to have Daddy read her stories and put her to bed at night. We are all happier, more relaxed, and generally I think we already know we made the right decision in moving back.

Pregnancy-wise, Baby Boy has a new name (which I'm not divulging until he's born this time), he is head down and looking like he may be a big bundle. We have a scan booked to finally find out whether my placenta has moved out of the way or not, have registered with the hospital and are beginning to feel like we understand the Maltese health system a little bit more! Time will tell.

(30+3 bump!)

So there you have it - a very quick recap of what's been keeping me away from you lovely people. I will update again tomorrow with some more pictures to make you all jealous of the weather we've been greeted with (I've never been so glad to have avoided English snow in my life!!!) xx

Conversations with Emily

We visited Daddy at work yesterday, which meant catching the train to London. The last time we caught the train, Emily wasn't quite into trains and buses yet, but now she most certainly is and she loved it. The train journey out was so funny, I just had to try and jot down part of the conversation (well, monologue mostly) on the way back. This is what I saved on my iphone notepad: (note that she calls herself Elly)


Emily (looking out the window, for cows): Animals! Where are you, animals?

I am giving you the correct version here. The above in reality sounds more like "Amoos! Wheyayoo, amoos?"

Me: Shall we look for animals?

Emily: Yes

Me (there were no cows in sight, so attempting a diversion): Look, there are lots of trains and cars!

Emily: Trains! Cars! One two three six. Oh goodness! More more cars!

(The train doors open.)

Uh-oh open! Close! (She knocks on the partition behind us.) Hello? Who there?

(She tries to close the door, from inside the train. Needless to say, unsuccessfully.)

Elly sit. Ok. (She sits down.)

(Door closes)

Yay Elly! Good girl!
Wow more train! Another one!
Uh-oh gone. Ok.

(She notices me taking note of all this on my phone.)

Game?


At which point I handed over the phone to let her play a game.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am never bored of spending time with this little girl... She is absolutely hilarious!

PS We find out what flavour Squiggle is tomorrow! Get your guesses in quick!!

In the Picture

That tear-jerker P&G advert still shows up on TV every now and then, and I've made a conscious effort to not to just be "air". Us Mums are often left out of photos - often too busy being behind the camera itself - but I am adamant that there will be many photos through Emily's life that I am present in. Everyone needs to remember what their Mummy looked like when she and they were young. Maureen over on Island Fairy does a regular Embrace the Camera post, which I love because it gives us an opportunity to see the person behind the blog, not just the children she writes about and so obviously loves... and if I enjoy seeing pictures of her, then they certainly will too.

But it's so easy to miss out. In our family I am the official person behind the camera. David isn't really into photography or even photo-taking so I can often be heard reminding (begging!) him to pick up the camera to ensure there are pictures of me with Emily too. Sadly this often means pictures that include me are posed and artificial. Yes, he takes plenty of them once he's at it but they are often twenty different versions of the same thing and I want life and candid moments, which I think either comes naturally to the photographer or it simply doesn't. Having said that - and he knows this because I have told him - David is getting much better at it, and although many pictures of Emily and myself are still painfully posed, there have been a few more recent ones that haven't been, and that I am in love with.

Today a friend on Facebook linked to an article called The Mom Stays in the Picture. It hit the nail on the head as to why I want to be in photos. Somehow I've never quite been able to explain it without sounding like some narcissistic prat. But this article did it for me. My husband may not be the type to pick up a camera unprompted, but he is kind and compassionate and caring and he admires the huge amount of work I do with Emily on a daily basis, and that can never be dismissed. I emailed the link to him with a note and I have been promised far more pictures in future.

"I'm everywhere in their young lives, and yet I have very few pictures of me with them. Someday I won't be here -- and I don't know if that someday is tomorrow or thirty or forty or fifty years from now -- but I want them to have pictures of me. I want them to see the way I looked at them, see how much I loved them. I am not perfect to look at and I am not perfect to love, but I am perfectly their mother."
[Allison Tate, The Mom Stays in the Picture]

Lucky Fourth

Don't know much about your life.

Don't know much about your world, but

Don't want to be alone tonight,

On this planet they call earth.

You don't know about my past, and

I don't have a future figured out.

And maybe this is going too fast.

And maybe it's not meant to last,

But, 

What do you say to taking chances,

What do you say to jumping off the edge?

Never knowing if there's solid ground below

Or a hand to hold, or hell to pay,

What do you say.

PS. We made it. Love you. So much. Happy 4th wedding anniversary x

Words are Taking Chances, by Celine Dion

The Milkshake Battle

Morning folks... a little contribution from David and an event that happened over the weekend! Enjoy xxx

Date Night Observations

Last month saw our third date night since Emily was born. My sister kindly babysat and we headed out to the cinema for the first time in 17 months. (Yes, I counted.)

Here are some date night observations:

1. No matter what great outfit you had in mind for date night, it simply will not do on the night and you will go through everything you own, only to turn back to that original outfit reluctantly as nothing else seems to work as well.

2. It is not possible to wear more than one pair of shoes at a go. Yes there are many pretty shoes in that closet that haven't been worn in months and months, but you really will need to just settle on one pair for the night.

3. You feel the need to tell your sister where everything is, forgetting that she already knows all this because she is, in fact, your sister and not a random babysitter.

4. Cinema food doesn't get cheaper 17 months on.

5. The tub of pop corn that you just spent a half a year's savings on will topple over if you hit it with your coat.

6. People will want to sit in those seats you've draped said coat over.

7. Volume levels in the cinema seem shockingly high when you're used to keeping the TV at a sensible volume because the baby's sleeping.

8. Upon your return, the baby will sense that you've been out galavanting and will spend the rest of the night unsettled just to keep you on your toes, and in the hope that you won't dare go out alone again.



Our next date has been scheduled ;)


[image cred]

The Lovers and the Haters

It was Valentine's Day yesterday and once again, the haters came out to play. Commercialised, cliché, cheesy are words thrown about year after year, and this year was no different.

Well, call me a romantic, but I tend to disagree. What is so wrong in naming a day where people can - if they so please - put some time aside to make their feelings clear to their loved one. It's an occasion to remind us to go that extra mile every now and again, to make someone feel special, write a heartfelt letter, treat someone to something out of the ordinary. Just for the sake of it.

Commercialised? It's as commercial as you want it to be. No one is making you spend hundreds of pounds on the abundance of "ideal gifts" that have been advertised since the Christmas decorations came down in the shops. No one but you. That special treat could be cooking a dinner you wouldn't normally cook but you know the other person loves. It could be making an occasion out of something simple.

Cliché? No more cliché than giving gifts on someone's birthday, dressing a baby girl in pink clothes, eating turkey on Christmas Day. Why the issue with this day?

Cheesy? Again, only as cheesy as you want it to be. If celebrating Valentine's Day is buying a gift that is a useless, generic, stuffed toy that's red and is shaped like a devil, then yes. But is being loved and loving someone in return cheesy?

If I wanted to show someone I loved them, I could do so every day, they say. True, and I'm sure you do. But a special occasion is just that because it's not a regular occurrence. Between Valentine's Day and our Anniversary in October, and a few other special 'just because' days in the rest of the year that rushes past us, they are a few handy dates to remind us to stop and recharge. They're dates that help us appreciate how lucky and loved we are. Dates that make it easier to remember to be patient and use kinder words on the days that aren't as special.

I hope your Valentine's Day was special. And I hope it lasts and lasts and lasts.

Image Source: google.com via Susan on Pinterest

How Lovely Are Your Branches

Our tree (as you may have seen from previous snapshots) isn't exactly a colour theme, or an anything theme for that matter. It's filled with fun, quirky or plain pretty decorations. Many of them have come from David's childhood, and I know he looks for these once I've set up the tree and the little boy in him is always over the moon when he spots four particular red teddy bears hanging off the branches.

Here are a few of my favourites - and his - and why they're there.


I bought two of these from the Christmas shop at Bluewater this year. I fell in love with how delicate they look and the fact that they are full of stars. I love stars. I also wanted to add some white to the tree and these two are it (for now).



There had to be something related to Emily so when Sarah of Hollyberry Boutique said that she was making personalised tree decorations (amongst other things), I pounced. It's lovely to have a handmade touch on the tree.



This is one of a set of snowmen and other Christmas-related figurines that David's mum passed on to us. I love the snowmen in particular. They have that extra bit of detail, like the bells on this one, and another one has a little knitted cardigan. I just think they're so adorable.



This silver heart came all the way from Denmark via @annfenech - three of these hearts and two little figurines dressed in Danish Christmas clothing were sent to me as part of the Ornament Exchange I featured last month.



I love this wooden stocking. It makes me smile every time I look at it :)



These are also new. They are part of a set of clay ornaments that I bought from Lakeland - yes, they are breakable and yes, they will break at some point or other. But until then, their cuteness is irresistible!



Remember those red bears I mentioned earlier? This is one of them. He is by far the most battered of all four but, while David loves them all equally, I have a soft spot for this fragile one. I can only imagine how many hours this bear spent in David's hands as a boy to have reached a point where he is now on the verge of losing an ear. And even then, I suspect he'll still make it onto our tree.



Did You Know?
Legend has it that Martin Luther began the tradition of decorating trees to celebrate Christmas. One crisp Christmas Eve, about the year 1500, he was walking through snow-covered woods and was struck by the beauty of a group of small evergreens. Their branches, dusted with snow, shimmered in the moonlight. When he got home, he set up a little fir tree indoors so he could share this story with his children. He decorated it with candles, which he lit in honour of Christ's birth.
(source)




I'll be taking a little bloggy break over Christmas and the New Year. This will be a special one for us - Emily's first - and I don't want to feel like I need to be keeping up with my blog, as much as I love it any other day of the year. Rest assured though that you'll hear all about our Christmas upon my return in 2012! Until then, the very best to you all. May your Christmas be everything you want it to be, and 2012 start with a smile, and lots of love.

Just Us

I haven't openly admitted this but until last week, David and I hadn't yet been out together - ie JUST US - since Emily was born. There were a couple of times when we said we might but we never quite "got round" to it. But last weekend, when my brother was over, we took the opportunity to really try and get out once Emily was asleep.

Typically, that week, she'd started being really unsettled after bedtime - sometimes waking up screaming and needing to be comforted to go back to sleep. But my brother was confident he could handle it, and we decided to go ahead with our plans.

It was just up to us to decide what we wanted to do. The one thing we miss most from our pre-Emily life is the cinema. We really, really miss it. So we both wanted to go to the cinema, but then couldn't decide on a movie (we only had one shot at this - it HAD to be a great movie!!). So the cinema became just a drink. Then we almost cancelled the night out. Then it became a walk. Then, again, maybe we just won't bother. And in the end, we called up our favourite restaurant at 20:10 and made a reservation for 20:30, I quickly painted my face and were there just 5 mins late.

We had a fabulous three course meal with a bottle of what tasted like the best wine we've drunk in years. We chatted and planned holidays and generally enjoyed each other's company and when it was over, we walked (I stumbled, noisily) home, satisfied and talking about doing it again soon.


Emily, on the other hand, was not too impressed with our behaviour. After sleeping through the night again recently, she chose that night to wake up at midnight and refused to go back to sleep until 02:30. Trying to rock a fretful baby to sleep when tipsy isn't something I'd like to repeat any time soon... so maybe a bit less wine next time!

[image source: unknown]

I'll Be Honest

Lately, to the large extent, life's been a great, big, steaming pile of crap. Since around the 29th October we've barely had a whole night's sleep. Between teething, an ear infection and God only knows what else, Emily has been up almost every night for hours at a go.

Some nights, even thinking of her smile, her chuckles, her general adorableness hasn't cut it. Some nights have pushed me so far, I've ended up in tears not wanting to go into her room for fear of losing my temper with her. Some nights I've despised her.

Luckily I'm surrounded by some great friends who, while they can offer no solutions, assure me that feeling this way is normal. (Equally, there have been "friends" who have offered no support whatsoever, instead trying to make me feel like the worst mother that ever lived. Always nice, that.)

Days become equally as hard. I'm so tired I'm listless, unmotivated and verging on depressed. Housework has severely fallen behind. I then look at the mess around me and feel even worse. Some days I have no energy to hold a conversation with anyone and avoid meeting friends or socialising at all. This plus my husband's very long work hours sometimes makes for very unfulfilling days, meaning things are already not great at bedtime, when we then need to gear up for the possibility of yet another tough night.

My point? Not sure there is one. But if any of you think my life is a bed of roses all the time....? Not so much.

[I wrote this at 3:30am this morning after having been up for 3 hours, 2 of them trying to get Emily to go back to sleep, one of them trying to get myself back to sleep. Apologies if it sounds somewhat desperate. I was.]


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Update, 22nd November @ 20:50

I have learnt that when I reach rock bottom, I feel the need write about it. And after that, the only way is up. However, thanks to my writing about it and in this case making it public, you've all made it that much easier to find the way "up". Since yesterday's post, the amount of love and support that has come FLOODING in (here, FB, Twitter, email, text, whatsapp, you name it!) is amazing, and so moving. I am in such an immensely different place today - and it's all thanks to you. I am once again able to look at Emily and feel pride and overwhelming love for her, and when she moaned a bit this afternoon, it didn't feel like the end of the world. We just had some cuddles and sang a few songs, and she was happy again. I couldn't do that recently, it's felt so hard, like I'd become a rock, incapable of feeling warmth towards her. We had a really great day today. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you <3

Perspective

And just like that, it's our third wedding anniversary. I'm sure David would agree with me that this year is possibly the most special so far. This year, it's not just a wedding anniversary. It's a celebration of all that has happened to us since the day we met: the long-distance relationship, the early engagement, the life move to another country, the crazy wedding planning, the building of a home, the (almost?) perfect wedding day...... fast-forward to the arrival of an amazing little girl who now gets to share this day with us, and is, honestly speaking, the realisation of everything David and I dreamed of since some point very early in our relationship.

Three years ago, my biggest problem was the weather, my dress not fitting well and a certain speech getting out of hand. I'm not saying that those things would not have worried me had things happened in reverse (I haven't changed THAT much!), but it certainly puts things into perspective.

David is still as supportive of me as he was then, still as much my voice of reason as he was when he called me up the morning of the wedding to assure me that from where he was standing, he could see the end of the storm (the black cloud was moving away) while I was still seemingly surrounded by it, pouring my eyes out because I thought my beautiful wedding was ruined.

Sigh.


Here's to many (multiples of three) more wedding anniversaries.



(D, love you & thank you x)

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Eleven Days, Part 4

We'd initially booked an 8-day holiday. But when that was almost up, we decided we were having too much fun relaxing and since Emily had taken so well to the heat and the holiday in general, we should extend by a few days. So we did.

Return

And then all too soon, it was time to go home. And I had to pack. I hate packing. And when in Malta, we somehow end up with far more to take back up with us than we came down with (there's always the "oh yes, I meant to take that up with me five years ago" item...).

On the way down, we somehow managed to keep to our weight limit. Entirely unexpectedly, of course - I was sure we were a good 10kg overweight. But in the end, we stood at the check-in desk feeling like naughty teenagers, the numbers being added up, and we were at 50kg. Exactly our allowance: not a kilo more or a kilo less. We wouldn't have managed it better had we tried.

Considering, we were only 3 or 4kg overweight on the way back and the very kind check-in clerk let it go.

Also, note that Malta International Airport doesn't seem to have any restrictions on baby food. I didn't even need to taste the water in my flask this time round. (When one member of the security team pointed the flask out to her superviser, she got a pat on the back for spotting it on the x-ray machine and we were simply waved through.)

Air Malta, however, have no policy allowing families with children to board first, which is a little bit annoying when your baby is FAST ASLEEP and you know that having to board with the crowds will wake her up. This is something we intend to follow up on, however, as even Ryanair and Easyjet enforce this policy when flying out of Malta. Why not Air Malta?! A letter will be written!

Having said that, we were somewhat relieved to see that the policy is enforced for wheelchair users. We couldn't quite work out how that would otherwise work, not to mention it being entirely unfair.

So she woke up. Thus began the exhausting mental challenge of trying to (quietly) keep a 5-month old entertained while sitting down in a very tight space on an aircraft. It worked for all of four minutes.

Then I tried to give her some water for take-off and got screamed at (by her) as it was not milk. As previously mentioned, her feeds are somewhat predictable but this was completely unexpected. She'd drunk 7oz just 2 hours before! So we quickly threw together another feed and then she was happy.

Dinnertime on the plane involved David eating with two dinners on his tray while I entertained. He then held Emily high up over the trays while I quickly transferred the dinners onto my tray and he continued the entertainment while I ate.

We changed her nappy on our two open trays, with the small of her back over the gap.

I know we could have changed her in the loo, but there was something more fun about our way. Besides, I am the nappy changing queen. I can change a nappy quicker than you can say "she might pee everywhere" (she didn't), and I'm sure no one actually noticed.

And then, right on cue at her bedtime, she fell asleep in my arms, in a seat that was probably the only seat on the entire aircraft that was faulty and couldn't recline *shakes fist*.

An hour later, we landed and got off the plane and she woke up as the pushchair was unloaded and handed to us. And then there were the pretty ceiling lights again and she stared at them and at us with this huge silly grin on her face all the way to passport control.

We weren't worried, we knew she'd fall asleep in the car - and she did.

The next day, she was very obviously thrilled to be home. She seemed to be re-familiarising herself with every toy/piece of furniture/wall in the house with a huge amount of concentration all day.

We did very little else. She needed to catch up on sleep, I needed to catch up on laundry. It worked for us both.

I've got me a great baby.

Eleven Days, Part 3

We have learnt, in the 24 weeks since Emily joined us, that there is only an extent to which you can control life with a baby. Routine is important, but cannot be the be all and end all. Some fluidity is important too. When we tried to keep to a rigid routine, all that happened was that life became hell.

Routine

So instead we have a "pattern" which we keep in mind and attempt to keep to, for Emily's sake. We know that at the moment she naps approximately 3 times a day, one short nap in the morning, a good 2-hour (ish) one in the early afternoon, and sometimes another short one late afternoon. They ebb and flow, but the general pattern is always there. Her feeds are also somewhat predictable. Her bedtime is what we keep to with more determination. She bathes at about 6:30pm, and is asleep by 7pm. When this is not the case, it often results in a meltdown on her part which has her up and screaming until 11pm (something that we wish we'd recognised when she was 2 months old).

So while in Malta, we kept this in mind. Her naps did suffer slightly until she got accustomed to sleeping in her pushchair since we were out most of the day (she usually naps in her cot), but her bedtime remained sacred. More often than not, she was so exhausted from the bit of "swimming" she'd done, that had we wanted to keep her awake we'd not have been able to anyway!

She was asleep by 7pm every night. And on some nights, we transferred her from cot to pushchair (having seen how very deeply she sleeps at night!) and went out for a walk along the promenade with our parents, and there was ice cream to be had in that sweet summer, waterside breeze.



There were a few nights she even slept through. Again, I put it down to the huge amount of stimulation and activity she suddenly had added to her days. And she was loving it!

Eleven Days, Part 2

Our 11 days in Malta (our longest visit since we left 5 years ago!), was a hugely successful holiday. Our trips back usually involve us darting from one lunch date to another, followed by a couple dinner dates, allowing us very little swim or chill time, resulting in us needing a holiday once the "holiday" is over.

This time we were determined it would be different. Now that Emily is here, trips to Malta need to be mainly about her spending time with family and some very close friends. We did organise a generic "Meet Emily" party which was a huge success, but after that, our individual time was dedicated to family.

Swimming

We were lucky enough to have access to a private pool this time round, which also helped a huge deal. We were able to relax and enjoy the cool water in the hot sun while also enjoying family.

It was also to be Emily's first swimming experience. We weren't too sure what to expect as she has never quite been a fan of cool water. Her baths are nothing close to the recommended temperature... much, much warmer. I'd even go as far as to say hot.

So I wasn't too sure how well cold water would go down. But we were determined. She is Maltese after all, she can't not swim?! So we excitedly got her all dressed up in her full-body swimsuit, chuckled at how ridiculous and yet cute she looked, lathered her in sunblock, blew up her Zoggs ring, and pink fluffy towel in hand, headed towards the water.

Toes in. Face unsure. Splashed some water onto her legs. Face very unsure. Lowered her into the water some more. Face entirely unamused, frown growing by the second. But she wasn't crying so we brought the ring in and tried to get her into it. She was even less amused by that, especially when it turned out that despite saying it's for age 3-12 months, it was entirely too big for her and therefore completely useless. Zoggs ring was put to the side and not used again.

Back in our arms, she still hated the water. That day, her "swim" didn't last very long.

The next day, we tried again, this time armed with several of my niece's old sand and sea toys, but especially a bright red swimming lobster which she loved to bits. The bright colours kept her distracted while we lowered her further and further into the water until she was in up to her neck and not complaining.

She realised what we were up to a short while later and made it known that she was in no way amused and we were forced to take her back out.

Day three, I decided, on a whim, to use a regular swimsuit (ie not a full-body one). I am not sure whether that had anything to do with it, but that day, toys weren't even necessary. She was in, splashing and kicking away, loving it, for almost an hour!



Although the lobster was never very far away...

There was no turning back after that. We all swam every day, and she loved it every day. Our little water baby in the making!

Eleven Days, Part 1

At the end of June, we ventured abroad for the first time with Emily for what would be her first visit to the "Homeland", Malta. Everyone was excited to meet her, expectations were high. I was just glad the flight was a short 3-hour one, and not any longer. My expectations didn't really exist past that flight. I just wanted to get through it sane and preferably not hated by every other passenger on the plane. Having been those people who begged God and anyone else who'd bother to listen to ensure we were not seated next to a baby on a flight, we were about to be The Parents of Infant on Flight... the same people the old us shot poisonous thoughts at. (I might be exaggerating a little.)

In the end, it wasn't so bad. And it turns out many people are far more patient than I expected them to be.

Getting There

We chose to drive to Heathrow to be able to use our own carseat for Emily. The baby equipment used on this trip was planned with military precision. David's parents managed to get their hands on not one, but TWO, carseats Malta-side for Emily so we only needed to take our own pushchair (and had we wanted, we had one of those in Malta too, we just chose to take our own for comfort's sake).

Now let me make one thing clear. Travel Systems are the very antithesis of travel systems. They make travel harder and do not, in the slightest way, deserve the name. We've come back from Malta researching strollers, but that's another story.

Our flights completely clashed with Emily's usual bedtime. We did as much as we could to keep to her routine and left the rest to chance. Come 7pm, of course, she wouldn't sleep. There was far too much going on in the exciting, lit-up ceilinged airport to want to sleep. So we got onto the flight at 9.15pm with a wide-eyed, grinning baby being cooed at by everyone who passed.

Then she realised she was overtired and disaster struck. All the cooers ate their words and turned to the heavens for divine intervention for a quiet flight. The stupid air hostess came over to me and asked me if she could do something to help with the baby. I passed a snarky comment which she completely didn't get. What did she expect to do? Knock Emily over the head with a lifejacket to make her sleep?

She did sleep eventually, about 10 minutes which felt like a lifetime later, as soon as the engines turned on (yes, that's right - we hadn't actually left yet!). And then she slept for the entire flight on David's deader-by-the-minute arm.

She slept through the idiots idiotic applauding when the pilot DID HIS JOB by landing the plane safely. She slept through the loud Mediterranean journey off the plane. Through passport control near the Italian desperately looking for his lost sunglasses (how could an Italian survive without sunglasses?!). Through the conveyor belt's loud beeping to let us know our suitcases were on the way. Through the two moustached security guards' calling Gary Neville (he was on our flight) across the terminal to ask if they could get a (very early mobile phone camera) picture with him. Through the family welcome and obligatory terminal catch-up at 1am. Through the battle with the carseat (we are somewhat spoiled with our Isofix here in the UK and had no idea how to secure the seat using just a seatbelt... yeah).

She eventually stirred when we got to the flat in Sliema and I transferred her to David, who gave her a quick bottle while I set up the travel cot, we laid her down and that was that. She got up at 7am the next morning.

All in all, I'd say it was a very good first experience!

Notes: I was very confused about how to take her feeds onto the plane, and was hugely reluctant to waste anything. I decided against taking cartons of ready made milk, instead taking a flask of boiled, cooled water, and powder in a dispenser. I'd heard so many "horror" stories about getting feeds past security, and official advice seems to change by the week. I only needed to take a small sip out of the flask and we were through.

However, should push come to shove, and you need to use shop-bought mineral water air-side, just try and ensure that the sodium (Na) level is less than 200 milligrams (mg) per litre, and the sulphate (SO or SO4) content is not higher than 250mg per litre. (more here)

His First Father's Day

Apple of my Daddy's eye, her t-shirt reads. And it couldn't be more true. She is everything to him. Besotted, swept off his feet, you name it, he is it. He is a truly fantastic father and this deserves to be acknowledged.

Happy Father's Day hunny... thank you for all that you do x

[picture taken on the Isle of Wight, April 2011]

Wordless Wednesday: Six Years of Us ♥

Picture taken in Rome, October 2009