Doing it differently: an update

About three months ago I posted about my intention to do things differently with my second baby. We're now eight weeks in to his little life; how have my intentions fared?

First off, my independent midwife has now discharged me from her care. You know, I can't stress enough how fantastic it was to have one on one care for my entire pregnancy, labour and postnatal recovery. She was wonderful throughout: super-informed, unhurried, reliable and unflappable. Any questions I had, she could give me an instant evidence-based answer. Like when I asked what if my waters broke with meconium in, like first time round - she explained the different types of meconium and that it didn't need to lead to an induction, and what my options would be. And she also casually mentioned that she's never had a client be induced, which was music to my ears (especially considering the proportion of people I know who've been induced!). My IM was worth twice the money she charged. It's a travesty that IMs are under threat of not being able to practise legally (sign the petition to get the government to find a workable solution!).

My home birth... well, it was everything I could have hoped for. Peaceful, private, almost magical. Husband and son in the pool with me; no painful mid-labour drive over a million speed bumps to hospital. Tucked up in our bed ten minutes after getting out of the pool. And no bloody Bounty rep forcing a pack of tat on me (most importantly!).

Breastfeeding is going swimmingly this time round. I don't know if it's because I've been feeding Fred all the way through pregnancy, but all the plumbing seems to be perfectly in order - so much so that Arthur has snacked his way from 7lb13 at birth to a whopping 12lb3 at 6 weeks (from 50th centile to 75th) without dropping any weight. I am pretty proud of my bountiful bosom.  It did hurt at first, as it did first time round, but I was pain free by about week 3, and have been feeding on demand all the way through.

Saying that, I did discover the downside of choosing not to wean Fred, soon after Arthur's birth. He had a bit of a "regression", manifesting itself in a few minor potty accidents, no big deal, and an absolutely rabid obsession with my boobs, very big deal. I hated tandem nursing. I hated the constant feeling that my body wasn't my own, the pawing at my chest, the i.n.c.e.s.s.a.n.t whining. I hated that it made me feel more protective towards my innocent little newborn and more like I wanted to swat Fred away.  No amount of explanation, distraction, attempt to reason or limit worked, not even bribery - Fred was possessed by his right to have boob, 24 hours a day. It was awful. In the end I had to night wean him (again!) purely so I could continue to breastfeed him during the day without resentment. Night weaning was actually pretty painless (I explained it as no booby when it's dark outside and he took it OK) and I think it was night 4 of the process that he started sleeping through again.

My mum tries her hand at EC

Mixed results on the nappying front. We cloth nappied for the first two weeks before we moved back into our washing machine-less building site of a house from the neighbours, and are using disposables now. (We'll move back to cloth once our laundry facility is installed in a couple of weeks). ECing is a success though: even by week 2 it was well under way. Arthur (helpfully) hates the sensation of needing a wee, so it's been easy to pop his nappy off and stick him on a potty if he's fussy but not hungry or tired. Probably eight times out of 10 he'll oblige with a wee, although we do have our fair share of wet and dirty nappies too. It's been actually quite amazing to see such clear communication from him and to be able to help him. One time, we were out and about when he started fussing, so I told him we'd have to wait till we got home in about ten minutes - and he did! But my greatest moment to date was the night I put him in a new nappy at 9pm, caught wees at midnight and 2am, and he was still dry at 5am. Woo!

April 2013: a snapshot

It is 12.25am and I have been asleep for about two and a half hours. I am woken by the three year old child to my left wriggling and grunting in his sleep. He kicks the duvet off, gets up on all fours, then flops back on to the bed, still asleep. He settles for a moment, then gets up on all fours again, crying this time. I realise he has wet the bed. Wetting the bed has been a fairly regular feature of the past four or five weeks; before that our bed had been Wee Free Since December 3.

We do not make a big deal out of this. We do not want the boy to feel shame or humiliation. But it's bloody annoying to have to change the bedlinen at half past midnight. Still, at least there's a good seven hours of night left. We go back to sleep.

It is 1.30am. The six week old baby to my right is snuffling and chirruping for a feed. As if by magic, the small child on my left wakes up at the exact same time and wails for booby. I know that if I respond quickly he will go back to sleep, but I need to get the baby propped up on my other boob to feed first. It takes me about 20 seconds to do this, in which time the child is still wailing and I am getting increasingly irritated by the incessant 'I want some booooby' and pawing at my chest, so I snap at him then begrudgingly give him what he wants, feeling like I want to push him off the bed. I am starting to loathe tandem nursing. He goes back to sleep and after about half an hour, so do I. Prior to four or five weeks ago, he was sleeping through the night without any demands for booby. I know why he is unsettled but it doesn't make it any easier to find compassion.

It is 3.27am. The small baby is uncomfortable. He is pushing with his legs against my knee. I think he probably needs a wee or a nappy change, but I am too frightened of waking the child to help him. I try to feed him back to sleep but he is having none of it. I take a deep breath and hoist myself out of the bed with him, take him to the bathroom and let him wee into the loo. I put him in a fresh nappy and get back into bed. After about 45 minutes I go back to sleep.

It is 5.11am. The child stirs. In his half-sleep and half crying, he declares 'I want some boooooby'. I want to weep, I am so exhausted. I give him what he wants and he falls back to sleep within 20 seconds, clutching my shoulder as though I've just told him I'm leaving for Australia indefinitely. The baby stirs again. He wants a feed. I roll over and feed him cradled in my arm. I love breastfeeding him and wish I could devote my boobs 100% to him. He falls asleep, purring.

It is 6.42am. We all wake up together. The child sleepily says 'I want some booby'.

I hate tandem nursing, I really really hate it. 

This is us in April 2013.