Yes, it’s true!
I’ve been blessed by a fourth child, and a third daughter, on April the 8th in the evening. State hospital this time, the Al-Sabah Maternity Hospital in Shuwaikh – not something I’d love to repeat for sure, but nothing to spit at either. Very…medicated. But the staff was great.
Although, I’m kind of hoping that this shop is closed now – I am really, really bad at the baby stages, and I’ve grown too old to manage the hourly waking calls in the night now.
Like, really. I feel absolutely b-r-o-k-e-n every time LJ starts to whimper for food in the night. And she whimpers a lot.
I’ve decided to go full on formula this time around. The breastfeeding battle was short and painful (as it always is with me), and I’m still eaten away by mummy guilt; however for the sake of the (literal) sanity of me and the baby’s, it’s for the better. It just brings too much anxiety and depressive thoughs in my case, and I had quite enough of one battle with PND; no need for a repeat. It can get ugly.
Formula is expensive and fussier for sure…but happy mother, happy child, no?
I’d just be happy if random people stopped (both accidentaly and on purpose) guilt-tripping me about it.
Yes, it’s true!
I am pleased to announce that Maryam, our latest addition to our little (well, not so little anymore) family, made her grand entrance to the world at 11*30pm, on the 24th of February, 2014; measuring sweet little and girly 3.1kg and 47cm.
Let the sleep deprivation extravaganza begin. (Typing while rocking very gas congested baby.)
At least, it became much bigger after our housekeeper’s contract ended and I did not wish for a new one. Meaning, to my husband’s standards, I have to clean every day, with an exception of Friday which I attempt to claim as my free day. (Like, it’s so possible with kids.)
By cleaning, I mean the whole nine yards. Vacuum, mop, dust, dishes, ironing, washing, polishing, desinfecting, littering, cooking, putting kids to sleep, shouting at kids not to play with this and that and being ignored right away, and so on.
It can become exhausting if Mr. Pickles doesn’t grant me a good night sleep – luckily, alhamdulilah, this is more rare of occurrence nowadays than it used to be. So yes, on occasion I’ll crawl out of the bed feeling like a roadkill, not really so joyous over the ordeal upon me; mostly though I am fine and re-adapted quickly.
It’s just Mr. Pickles, who does the whole thing complicated, really. Either he screams his lungs out being restricted to my room only, making my sisters in law message my husband at work why the hell is that toddler crying so much and whether is he being eaten alive by our three cats, or he wrecks havoc all over the house. In the latter case he’s happy, that is true; me less however. It’s like cleaning with a tornado behind my back; I turn and see whatever has been done, has been undone. And worse, rather often. He also took a great liking in plugs, trash cans, cat litter boxes, Dettol bottles, vacuum cleaner wrong ends and other child unfriendly but awfully fun things. What’s child friendly is gruesomely boring, he says.
Abbas will soon “celebrate” 5 months since birth, me fifth month of not sleeping and sixth case of mastitis (yeey, not.)
Little boy is giving me hard time still and behaves like a Velcro monkey, hanging on me day and night, not really hostile to other people if you don’t count screaming them down as hostility, but rather unfriendly at best. Mostly he looks at you, puts up a balcony, a red T over his face (understand, his mouth, nose and eyebrows become bright red), crocked face and few seconds of mute cry, before the real shrieking commences.
He’s also got a new nickname from my mother in law, and that is Africa, as he got very skinny in the recent weeks, or better to define, he seems he stopped gaining any weight after the last vaccinations. So he’s basically a big head over very lean body with almost absent fat folds and muscle.
It made me worried sick in the past few days and after a consultation with family I’m taking him to a doc tomorrow to establish any next steps, be it supplementing formula (after my very tough fight for breastfeeding it makes me a bit sad, but everything for a happy and healthy baby, really!), adding baby food earlier than it’s usual in fully breastfed babies or even running tests to see what could be possibly wrong, in case he still doesn’t gain weight.
By Chinese calendar he has been born the year of Water Dragon, so let’s hope it will bring him all the strength and power he needs, since water dragon is supposedly the strongest of them all.
Today is my due date.
Nothing seems to indicate so except the fact it was set on today – baby’s still hanging in there pretty much without a twinge or any sign of an impeding labour. I am huge (like a whale, as my husband lovingly says), I have various kinds of pains here and there but none directly connected to any action, I have Michelin man feet which occasionally turn violet from the edema pressure, and I feel grumpy, fed up and in limbo of sorts. If I didn’t wake up 5 times a night for a wee, I’d say positively I can at least sleep the whole night. But I do wake up 5 times a night to visit the bathroom, so no, not even that currently counts.
Guess I will go overdue like I did with Dori – not pleasant at all, but can’t do much! So, let’s keep on waiting and try to stay positive…
…days to go – supposedly, at least that’s what my Lilypie sticker says that it’s left to the 40 week mark. I’ve been dipping into nesting reflex recently which resulted in me sending my husband out on an errand to hunt some crochet hook and yarn, so I can practice a bit before my real crocheting order comes around – which, so far, doesn’t seem to. I blame Easter, busy postal services and so on. The taste to crochet is blamed on nesting reflex.
I’ve managed to hook up my first creation which, amusingly, turned out in a shape of a newborn hat. Wonder why, don’t you?