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Woke up at 6am feeling like Dolly Parton.
I think I should write a song about it: how about to the tune of "I Feel Like Buddy Holly"- "I Feel Like Dolly Parton", or something to "These Boots Are Made For Walking" or "One More Mountain To Climb", or "Climb Every Mountain"...
Breast engorgement is a really strange feeling. For all my life I have been approximately a B cup. Over the last nine months I eventually grew into a D cup - quite flattering really except that the breasts kind of melded with the bump, and so 36B-28-26 became 38D-38-38! I had resigned myself to, or enthused about, the fact that I had fuller breasts until this morning. Suddenly the prospect of having a 38D bust got thrown out of the window. Never mind DD or E, truy J, K or L! I have a cleavage the size of the Grand Canyon with Mount Everest either side. I lie on my side and they fuse in the middle. I lie on my back and it feels like they're meeting in the middle round my spine. They are huge, hard and painful, and the poor nipples have disappeared into a mass of surrounding milk. There is nowhere for James to aim and he feels like he's sucking on a stone, with about as much likelihood of getting blood as milk out of it.
The Breast PumpThis is an ancient torture devide masquerading as a piece of hi-tech scientific equipment. You stick a large saucer-like shape on your breast, hang a bottle at the other end and switch on. Your breast is squeezed through the saucer through a tube and into the bottle, where a horde of demons stomp on it to mash the milk out. [Anne is joking. But only just. It is definitely high on the list of seriously undignified pieces of equipment to use on anyone.] |
Visitors today: the anaesthetist [I (Mike) am convinced he's just coming to continue reassuring himself Anne's neck problem isn't his fault], Wyndham and Michelle [friends with enough kids they get recognised when they come in], the nursery nurse, Adam [work], Mike and the physiotherapist.
The physio had a look at my neck and decided there was no stability in C3,C4 [cervical vertebrae 3 and 4 - the neck! nothing to do with dliating cervixes!]. Having checked all the other bits and confirmed that there were no more problems, she brought in a magic machine. I lay on my front with my breasts on a pillow and my head on a pillow, and she zapped the machine on my neck. This is where I leave the technical bit to Mike, as he he had the clever physics of the machine described to him - I was blocked from hearing by the buzzing. [Ahem. *shuffle* Um. It does some fancy stuff with cell potentials, and you shouldn't wear a pacemaker anywhere near it - sounds to me like it pumps out heavy duty electric/magnetc fields.]
This machine is supposed to stimulate the healing in my neck. It seemed to help because I felt movement much easier for the rest of the day, although it stiffened up again overnight. I expect more of the same daily till I go home.
Helen the midwife had a go at massaging my neck first thing in the morning, but she had to go and do other things, and Wyndham and Michelle arrived anyway. James stayed asleep till 11am, then Michelle cuddled him for a while. Then... time for James' first bath. A very exciting time for Mike and I, but James was less than impressed - he thought it was a major indignity, especially the getting undressed bit, and the getting wet bit was no fun either.
While James was drying off I had the visit from the physio [see above - things are a little out of order in Anne's notes], and then I had to breast feed him - understandably, with boobs the size of meat plates, squashed into a pillow for half an hour, a bath and a change, and no nipples to find... James was not a happy bunny. James grumpy, Anne sore.
It took till 1:30pm to get him fed, including The Pump! Some more milk was taken off my breast at the same time, mostly to relieve the pressure, but also to allow for extra for James in case he couldn't suckle properly.
Fed him again at 5pm. Didn't need the pump this time, but he took from both breasts and fought like a maniac once he was off the breast. James has temper tantrums if everything is not exactly correct (wonder where he gets that from? [Me! Me! I know!]). The problem is that he can't scream and suck at the same time, so convincing him that sucking will get him what he wants where as crying won't takes time and patience. It's a good job [in some ways] I am flat on my back - can't move so have endless time and patience, and the midwives, being descended from angels, have loads of patience too.
Go back to the first breast. [Plan B.] Still no luck. [Dang.] Same problem, but milk pouring out, just no keenness on James' part to suck. Eventually got him attached by resorting to warmed left over breast milk (from The Pump! Remember The Pump?) drizzled over the breast and squirted into James' mouth from a syringe. Gave the rest to James as a cup feed afterwards as he still seemed hungry (I suppose The Pump has its uses after all). It was about 1.30 by the time he got back to sleep. Sleepy James, sore (triply so) and depressed Anne. Boobs felt like balloons about to pop, twisted into little animal shapes by the sadistic clown with the smiley face and gruesome grin.
I'll never look at balloon animals the same again.
Woke up feeling like Barbara Windsor (a more Cockney version of Dolly Parton) but ut least they'd settled down to a more DD or E version. James had obviously worked his magic to a certain extent.
Managed to get up for breakfast - neck not hurting as much. Had a quiet morning watching James be restless but not quite wake up.When he finally woke up we checked him, The problem now was that he had hard uncompromising breasts to try and suck on. James is into instant gratification: two sucks - milk or bust (this is probably the wrong phrase to use here!), so out came the breast pump (remember The Pump?), to soften and bring the nipple out, as well as a little milk. He evntually got attached at around noon. by which time Mike and Derek (Grandad) had arrived. Fed james till about 12.30 then handed him to Grandad for cuddles. Grandad went home with a stiff arm - good job the A1 is a reasonably straight road!
The afternoon was taken up with feeding James - fed one side, then the other, then the other, then the 4th side - trust me, it felt like I needed four. I'd just thought I'd got him full and sleepy when he'd wake up and demand more! This went on till 5.30. Also had the physio visit with her magic machine during all this and zap my neck again. Felt much better.
James slept! Till 9pm! Visitors: only Mike (Dad), but at least we could spend some time together without James interfering.
Why I'm not a Daewoo fan [Mike]Jan 7th: Take delivery of courtesy car while mine has a few minor repairs done. Discover it is in fact a shoebox, not a car, and resolve to make Daewoo note down on my customer record that I am 6'3", and a Matiz WON'T DO.Jan 8th: Daewoo say 'car not done'. By the afternoon it's 'next on the queue'. I point out, somewhat acidically, that I have a wife and new son to collect, and please can I have something better than this shoebox. They agree, I get in the shoebox to drive round. Change down for the junction at the end of the road, miss a gear, coast round the corner. Discover the gear stick waggles a lot. And the shoebox is stuck in reverse. Reverse to safety, walk home. Phone Daewoo in a controlled fury. Lee from Daewoo (who, lucky for him, looks enough like one of my best friends to make it very hard to blow my stack at him), arrives with a decent car, and I leave him looking forlornly at the shoebox, while I drive off in the (automatic) new one, trying hard not to change gear by hand at every junction and wondering who stole the clutch. Later...Pass Lee, shoebox and big recovery truck as I pull in home with Anne. Can't help but chuckle. |
James woke at 2.30 am and was hungry, so I fed him, but he fell off after about 5 minutes and went off to sleep. I tried to put him back in the cot: he whinged. Tried to put him back on the breast: tantrum. Called midwife to help - got him on the breast at 3 for another 8 minutes, before he nodded off again. Decided not to disturb him, so slept fitfully beside him. He woke about half an hour later, and didn't appear to want more, but grizzled. So I had to walk up and down with him, change him, walk up and down some more. Eventually gave up and called the midwife, who said he was still hungry and to feed again, which I did. He latched on immediately and stayed on for half an hour, after which he slept for an hour. Woke up again, so I gave him the other breast (more blood, but at least we are happy it is mine, not James' [for suitably small values of 'happy']). He latched on and would not let go for 45 minutes - I was sure he was going to go pop! Eventually he went to sleep around 6am. No such luck for me.
I had a headache by this time, trying to joinwith the neck pain and join together to make the pain to end all pains. It's Saturday, so no physiotherapist today. Decide that since all I have is a headache [all? ouch.] I should go home.
Gynacologically speaking (isn't that a good word) I am fine, everything settling down to normal, so the midwives are happy to send me home: they also want the beds.
Mike finally picked me up at 5pm (problem with the car which is another tale entirely and not mine to tell) by which time the only thing I could do is sit or lie. Moving was a real problem, and Mike had to get the midwife to help James and I into the car [not strictly true - the midwife has to come out with us for security reasons, and I would have been capable of carrying James, had I not offered to fetch the car closer], which he carefully drove home again trying not to bump me on the way.
Fed James. More blood. In fact, both nipples are now bleeding and -very sore. When is this going to end? Although James grizzled all the way home, and then had to cope with a very sore Mummy, he slept for the majority of the night uninterrupted. [Wonder if he'll do that every night?]