I feel strange. It is now 26 September, which is one month after that diabolical day that I attended hospital for a routine appointment and remained for ten days before leaving with my tiny early baby.
More significantly, today is the day that E would have been delivered had all remained stable. This is the day I've been looking to since May.
Instead, I have a bouncing three week old still tiny baby. I cannot fathom why I feel sad/guilty/weird about having her early. This weekend past would have had me stressing, but loading things onto my iPhone, packing nice pjs, organising newborn sized clothes. Nice planning. And today I would have had the section. Which isn't pleasant really, other than the amazing moment of meeting the baby.
E is unaware of this, of course, and is happily adhering to the behaviour expected of a three week old.
She cries more loudly and frequently. Tears are down to hunger, nappy changes and a new addition for three weeks: not being allowed to sleep exclusively on mummy's chest. She mostly feeds well but I have a dilemma of no perfect bottle yet. NUK has proven most successful, the next size bottles of, which she will need as soon as she takes more than 4oz each feed, don't fit in the steriliser. We have an array of Avent things (including the steriliser) but she doesn't get on with the teats. Small ones are too hard work, larger ones are too messy. We have mostly NUK teats on Avent bottles at the moment and they are kind of leaky. Tommee Tippee may be the answer, but we're not there yet.
O was home with a cold today. I am exhausted from sheer lack of sleep. 8pm bedtime for me tonight I think!!
Oh, and my wound is infected, I now need an antibiotic, despite the nurse insisting it was clean.
I need a holiday. Or a maternity nurse. Or a cleaner. Or all of the above.
No comments:
Post a Comment