With You — 6 Weeks: Postpartum
Life will never be the same
Someone once told me that the bad times of being a parent are just as you would imagine — bad: sleepless nights, crying with uncertainty of babies needs, monotony of necessary routines, poonamis, and all that come with it.
However, the good moments, the joy that comes from creating a life and all that you experience again through their eyes is better than you could ever imagine.
This is a truth that I can only explain through the precious moment of the 2am feed. A milk drunk baby with a sleepy smile from the full belly in the comfort of your arms. It is here, when all others are sleeping that I realise I can do this for as long it’s needed. It is in this joy, this moment that only exists between me and the life I’ve bought into this world that my love of motherhood began.
But as with most moments in these first days, the great is always matched with a challenge, and with broken sleep comes an exhaustion that I have never felt before.
Week One — Feeding:
Following the arrival of Rino, we were transferred to the recovery suit where finally I was handed my little bundle and he was placed on my breast. This was the beginning of a month long journey to adapt to breastfeeding.
In the hospital you have midwifes who help to latch on, and it can all be quite overwhelming with the numerous midwifes who come and go, who advise you one way or another (their help overwhelming but much appreciated).
The day we left the hospital I wasn’t apprehensive about the responsibility of this new role, I was excited and filled with happiness and pride of my new little family — it was time to step away from the numerous midwifes and care of the hospital and start to figure out what this new world would mean for me.
But it didn’t take long for apprehension to set in.
It came in a fit of screams at the breast. It came in the middle of the night when the little baby in my arms wouldn’t see that their mum was tired, so tired, and if they would just go to sleep and let me slept too. It came in the unconsolable tears from both baby and mum when I couldn’t feed him and his cries continued.
A blur of night to day and back again.
It was in this first week that my nipples began to crack, and sometimes latching on was so painful it brought me to tears. And aside from the physical pain it was the mental exhaustion from the inability to feed my baby who slept for long stretches and who I wasn’t feeding every 2–3 hours as needed.
And when I attempted to feed him he fussed and didn’t feed well.
So my milk didn’t come in. It wasn’t transitioning from colostrum to milk, and wasn’t building up the stores needed to feed a growing baby. We were both reaching a point of exhaustion that needed intervention.
The midwife made a plan of formula top ups, some easy feeds (formula only) overnight and putting a time limit to feeds. However to keep encouraging milk supply I also needed to express milk with each feed, except overnight, with an electric pump. The new routine was feed one side for 20 mins, rest, feed next side for 20 mins, then formula top up for baby and express with pump each side for 10 mins. A process that took up to 2 hours, and then it was time to feed again. Already exhausted, I was ever more so. Visitors were banned and my only focus was to get some rest and feed feed feed.
The result: Rino started to put on weight but my milk still wasn’t coming in and my latch wasn’t correct as my nipple kept splitting. It began to puss, I went to numerous lactation consultants to work through the issues, and ended up on antibiotics and a steroid cream.
It was not an easy road to breastfeed our little one, but now I have full supply in and can feed on demand wherever, whenever. I was able to get there in the end which is not the case for everyone. It is a struggle, but a challenge worth persevering with.
The first week of Rino’s life was filled with trying moments but it was also the most beautiful. Watching Juan become a father: I didn’t think I could love him more but my heart melted over his time spent gazing into his son and rocking him to sleep. Holding him and cherishing these precious first moments. I have found that a mothers love expands, not only for the life she created but for the person she created it with.
Tears of strain and tears of joy. I swayed with my little on in my arms at the end of week one as Blackbird played by the Beatles:
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly,
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”
These were tears of joy — this was the moment I was waiting for, all my life.
Week Two — It takes a village:
Broken sleeps, immense feeding schedule, and exhaustion were what this week came with. At the same time as recovering from an operation, my cesarian delivery.
The only reason I got through all of this was the support and help I had around me. Juan at my side, ready to help when exhaustion was too much, to hug me and help me calm down, for me and for the baby in my arms. Mum to do our laundry, feed us, care for us as we focused on our little one. My sister to bring round treats and meals and to show her love and support for Rino, her nephew.
They fed me, they took care of everything that was needed and they did it all unconditionally.
I was now used to staying in my dressing gown all day, unable to wear any top due to tender breasts and damaged nipples. Though thanks to the village around me I managed to shower each day, was fed nourishing food and was given the emotional support I needed.
It really does take a village.
Week Three — Needed distractions:
I’m not quite sure that I’d worn a top for three weeks. Just my comfy pants and a dressing gown. The crack in my nipple was improving very slowly, a swab showed some bacteria and I was prescribed antibiotics. Concern over what ever I have will be passed on to Rino, in whatever small percentage, through the milk. A slight grumpy baby and a little nappy rash but who knows if that was related to the antibiotics.
I was then placed on a steroid cream which needed to be washed off before each feed. But it was working and my body was slowly adapting to my new existence, my nipple toughening up to the constant demanding draw on them.
Sometimes it would all get too much and all I could do was sit and cry it out. Sometimes cry together with my baby, sometimes the moment someone would take him and I would melt into my tiredness through an onset of tears. Sometimes it would only take a few words, or hours of attempting to feed and not knowing what to do.
It was at these moments with a baby on the boob that my mind needed some distraction to pass the hours siting and feeding our baby boy. Netflix came along and with Airpods I watched the Twilight series while Rino slept in my arms. And when something light was needed, I devoured Modern Family, unsure if this was the best guide to parenting. My mind was slow, and with Juan back at work, these shows were my company and my entertainment. Not sure if they were ‘right’ action for a newborn mum but they got me through — and it is a time in life to be kind to yourself and do what you need to do to survive.
This internal monologue was the first of many to adapt to do what you feel is right or what you need to do, whether it is right to watch crappy films and American sitcoms — not worry about what others think or what others a doing.
Motherhood is survival, motherhood is joy, motherhood is hours staring at this being growing in front of your eyes. Motherhood is not a competition, it is not what is right or wrong according to x y and z. It is what is right for you and your little family, it is what you need to do to be the best you for this little one. Even if that is to watch teenage vampire films.
Week Four — Generosity:
It felt like a real achievement to make it to four weeks. It was time to celebrate, ready to welcome visitors and to go beyond trips to the hospital. Little Rino was now putting on about 400 grams a week and it felt like I could see a difference in him from when I out him down for a nap to when I got him up again.
Amongst this growth and marvelling at this being, I could now start seeing beyond the blur of days and into the world outside.
And outside there was kindness. People who wanted to come and see my pride and joy. Gifts kept flowing into the house and I was blown away by generosity of family and friends. From far and near flowers came, clothes and toys and books. Works of art and care boxes. Gift vouchers and beautiful blankets. With them all came love towards us and our new addition to the family, it was in this I saw how much joy a new life can bring into the world.
Each and every one of us was once at this state of helplessness and in need of this love and care that our parents have given us, yet, it still feels miraculous — I could still feel the joy and awe from every visitor, every gift and every kind word of support.
Week 5 — A night away:
Once getting into the flow of breastfeeding, the new challenge became sleeping. He was starting to wake only a couple of times a night, an improvement from every 2 -3 hours. A good night meant I felt like a whole new person, able to tackle the day ahead, head out to a cafe, enjoy the little existence in my arms.
A bad night, and sleep deprivation set in. On these days, the tears that had slowed seem to swell up again and a desire to curl into a ball and sleep all day needed to be overcome. This is when I was lucky to have family step in for an hour or so and take Rino for a walk or a drive or anywhere away from me. It is incredible what an hour of sleep can do to help restore.
And it is incredible that even after all day, for five weeks, with the baby, 24/7 attached to this life, an hour away and I find myself missing him. Rejoiced to see him again and so excited to spent time with him again.
It was in this week that we spent our first night away. Working around his feeding and nap times we took off to Lake Tarawera for the night. An hours drive and he slept the whole way — a great traveller so far. In his ‘witching hour’ he set off a few cries but they were easy to overcome and he went down at a normal hour. He woke during the night as usual, sleeping in his bassinet pram.
We sat with the view of the mountain ahead and I didn’t feel the relaxation that usually came — there was a new responsibility, a new focus that could not be forgotten in the disconnect of the lake.
I was a mum now, a non-stop role.
A walk around the blue lakes hindered by the weight of wearing a baby boy. A night of watching movies shortened by needing to get some shut eye before the next feed. A trip to the cafe for a coffee interrupted with the cries of a tired one (his not mine this time).
But amongst all this, it was so great to get away. To know that it was possible, to start the adventuring early and know that it may be different, there may be challenges but there are also new joys to be found.
Everything we now do with Rino, we explore it with brand new eyes, a fresh perspective, as a first for our little one. And a first for us as a family of three.
Week 6 — We made it:
We made it! And we were not only surviving but flourishing. Rino’s increasing weight gain meant our newborn was becoming a chubby little one. The midwife ended her time with us, she had helped us through some tough moments in the first weeks and now celebrated with us the ease that was increasing with each day as we began to adapt into parenthood.
This was also the end of my 6 weeks of recovery, of self-care and focus on baby — and dependancy on others. It was time for some independence. It was time to venture out in the car with just me and Rino. Before now we had left the house in the pram or with the support of Juan. Now I was feeling stronger, my wound was healing, and I could lift the carseat and all I needed for an outing.
I decided to visit my office, and then go for a coffee with mum. I also wanted to pick up some thank you cards that we had made. This was an ambitious outing as each stop meant getting out the wheels for the carseat, the carseat, and making sure baby was happy throughout it all. All things I hadn’t done on my own yet in public.
First stop went well, I figured out the carseat and took the lift up to the office, he slept through the visit as we all stood around and watched him. Admired him.
Down the lift again and back in the car, to meet with mum for a coffee.
I waited at the lights on the causeway, waited in traffic that flowed. When the light turned green the car choked, I tried to start it again and again. I tried again and again with no success. I was stuck, broken down, horns began to honk behind me as I called for help. I got out an out and put my arms up in the air — a sign to say: I can’t move, I don’t know what the f*** to do and I have a baby in the back.
I recognised the women behind me, who was honking, she was the owner of the cafe I was going to but I was not leaving the car to go and talk to her, I got back in and tried to call help. She then appeared at my window, not sure how to help. A man appeared at the same window offering help as two more young men appear at the back of the car ready to push. I couldn’t get the car in neutral, one man got in and tried, then another and the car began to move towards oncoming traffic.
“Should I get my baby out?” I called, scared of the oncoming traffic.
“No, no, it’ll be fine.”
I ran alongside the door that held my baby inside, if anything was coming to harm him it would come through. I didn’t help push. I guarded the door with my life and watched as one man stopped traffic and others pushed the car into the petrol station across the road. They pushed it into the pump, but it was not petrol we needed. I was hopeless in assisting, I just let the kindness of strangers move us to a safe spot where we could wait for a solution.
Rino slept through it all, safe and sound in his seat. Unaware of the chaos and kindness around him.
We got through it, we survived and overcoming this me and Rino were now ready — we were able to go on more adventures just the two of us. This was the beginning (a rough beginning) of some great fun out and about with my son.
