Baby Jekyll & Hyde; or, Diary of a Learner Mum

[Originally posted on springonmars. Shameless recycling of content R us.]

Day 1.
Had baby. Hurt. Hospital left baby in cot by my bed all night long. Are they kidding? I do not know how to drive this thing. Three other mums and babies in ward; none of them cried half as much as my baby. Very embarrassing. Want to go home now please. (Will take baby with if I have to.)
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Day 2.
At home. Baby still crying. Will figure this out. Husband displaying signs of Superdaddy talents; I knew he had it in him.

Day 4.
Baby STILL crying. Apparently Superdaddy needs to sleep occasionally. This breastfeeding thing really bloody hurts; also, must I really wake up every 2-3 hours to feed baby? Doesn’t seem fair.

Day 5.
Progress! We have succeeded in getting baby to fall asleep in her own basket. Eventually. Have been advised to let her cry for 10 minutes before going to her. It seems to work but those are 10 very long minutes. Feel so cruel!

Day 8.
We are damn fine parents. Baby is falling asleep faster every night and is spending less and less time crying after the 5am feed. Getting into routine. We have clean laundry and everything. Sweet baby! I see the point of these little critters at last. Warm, cuddly, smell nice. Pull cute faces.

Day 12.
So lucky to have angel baby. Sleeps like a dream. Feeds like a little barracuda, but that’s good, not too much time on breast. Perfectly trained to go to bed and stay quiet. Looks so pretty too. Well done us. We have this thing nailed.

Day 13.
Well buggernuts. Superdaddy had to run errands and clearly baby missed him a lot. Cranky all afternoon. Not feeding well - keeps popping off to have a good cry. Not very polite or politic, baby, dissing the food supply like that. But I understand, you just had a bad day. Poor little thing.

Day 15.
Superdaddy has been back at work two days and baby has turned into demon. What happened? Don’t you remember how to sleep? It’s easy, look, I’ll show you… OH WAIT I CAN’T YOU WON’T LET ME.

10-minute rule not working so well any more. Fell asleep despite screams and let baby yell for 30 minutes. Whoops.

Day 17.
Baby just as much of demon when Superdaddy is home. Nothing will calm her, nothing. I wouldn’t mind needing to give full-time attention if she at least showed some sign of enjoying it, but no, cuddles mean nothing to her! Nothing! In fact she screams all the louder. I think she hates me. I think she resents having to rely on me for food. I really do.

Day 19.
I am the worst mummy ever. Baby has made that abundantly clear, and let’s face it, she is too young to lie. Nothing will purge the shame. Have ordered Japanese sword online (one of the few things I can do while trying to rock cranky baby to sleep with one arm). Have made baby a solemn vow: as soon as she is weaned I will commit harakiri. Am not telling Superdaddy as he might object to being left in sole charge of demon. I mean baby.

Day 20.
Suicide vow seems to have appeased demon baby. Either that or yesterday’s mondo crying jag exhausted her; either way she slept through the night almost solidly for 13 hours (minus 45 min midnight feed and nappy change). Mostly calm today, though very hungry. Taken up weird new way of playing with nipple when she’s finished feeding. Baby has very odd sense of humour.

Day 21.
I did it, I did it! Cuddled crying baby into calm sleepiness - and it took only 2 minutes! And I swear she enjoyed it! And she slept so well last night! And is so sweet this morning! SHE LIKES ME SHE REALLY LIKES ME!

Must check returns policy on sword purchase.

Alive and laughing

I did not die in childbirth! Here's the proof.

But really I just needed to share two things of great hilarity. First, sloths on the tube.

Second, squirrels in the toilet. Or Weetabix. Or Creme Eggs. Beware!

Now going back underground. Or to put Scrooblet to sleep. Or something.

Briefly interrupting pregnancy-free blogging to say

...lady, I realise that your intentions are honourable, but sending a slew of diet-and-exercise-for-pregnant-ladies and plus-sized-and-pregnant links - after commenting on how I am getting rather "round about the hips" - is really not the way to keep me away from the cookie jar, okay?

Grrr.

Sorry about that. The problem with limiting all sprog blogging to the sprog blog is that, well, the sprog blog is open to the public. Meaning, the in-laws. Meaning, the offending party.

Who just spent 2 weeks as our houseguest, doing most of the cooking, and doing it with vast - VAST - amounts of bacon and double cream, just by the way. Not that I'm complaining. Well, not about the cooking.

I wish I were a panda

Because this just looks soooo much easier than what I have to look forward to.
(Although, clearly even momma pandas get annoyed by their squalling babies. You'll note she tries to put it back at the end there.)

Also, I bet pandas don't get morning sickness. And if they get fat, who can tell? Who'd even care?

I've seen food from both sides now

Okay, bear with me, this is sort of a pregnancy post. Sorry. But not really. This is actually about how this alien parasite has enabled me to see something from the other side. And it's fascinating. (To me.) So I'm going to tell you all about it. Read it, don't read it...

You may recall my little fattypuffs vs thinifers rant. A precis: I believe that chubsters have a fundamentally different experience of food to skinnies, and as a result skinnies are incapable of understanding why it is that we should have such trouble dieting, etc. Now I believe I have Incontrovertible Proof! that it is so. Because the alien parasite is making me, temporarily and sadly invisibly, a thinifer.

It's like this. Hormones, not-just-morning sickness, yada yada - I will try not to bore you with too many details, but you see, I've lost my appetite. That's only partly because of the nausea; some of the time, like most of today, I don't actually feel sick. But I still don't want to eat. It's not just that I'm not hungry; something has switched off. Food has lost the fun factor. And no, it doesn't taste different. (Apparently for lots of pregnant women, tastes do change, but so far, not for me.) Everything still tastes fine, I am capable of thinking in a detached sort of way that something tastes good and is quite enjoyable... but something is missing. Look, consider this: I don't want chocolate. Do you begin to comprehend the vastness of this change? Yesterday I found myself thinking I wanted a chocolate, while at the same time I was perfectly aware that I didn't really, I wouldn't enjoy it if I had one. What I wanted was the satisfaction which I normally get from chocolate, but which is now gone. (Try to imagine the horror.)

And that's what got me thinking. I suspect, for thinifers... every day is like this. Less extreme, because of the total lack of nausea and the presence of hunger, but with that same disconnect between food-as-fuel and food-as-fun. If this were my normal state, I too would hotly deny any accusations that I "just don't understand", because after all, I still have tastebuds! Mmmm, yummy pizza! I get that - but I can stop! Why would you want another piece when you're not hungry any more?

It really is completely different, and it really must be a body chemistry thing. Living like this, you would eat when you're hungry (and mildly enjoy it); you would even sometimes eat when you're not really hungry, on social occasions, or because chocolates really are delicious. But you wouldn't experience the desire to do that very often, because frankly, putting food in your mouth when you don't want it is pretty damn repellent.*

Like this, food is like taking a shower. You need it regularly, and yes, it's really enjoyable, and sometimes you might indulge in an extra-long shower just because it feels so nice; but nobody was ever in danger of overshowering.

The way I used to be - and hope I will be again - food is much more like sex. Not literally. I don't gasp and moan over chocolate brownies (well, not often). But it definitely pushes some or other pleasure buttons in the limbic centre that right now are out of reach. It satisfies something that has nothing to do with hunger, and frankly, although it makes me happy, in itself it has nothing to do with psychological comfort seeking either.

Fattypuffs get pleasure out of food. Thinifers merely get enjoyment. It's a physical difference, and you know? Now I really feel sorry for thinifers. Because they're missing so much.

PS With this in mind - I've just stumbled across the Shangri La Diet, and putting aside for now (PLEASE) all questions of whether or not it works, is healthy, etc, the question is: would I want it to work? It sounds an awful lot like it might just have the same effect as what I've described above - not so much reducing appetite, as taking away that pleasure response. Would I want to be naturally thin and healthy and still enjoy food... but not enjoy it the way I am used to? I honestly can't say.

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* Nature has a mean sense of humour. The best way to stave off all-day sickness is to snack constantly. The last thing you want to do.

Aw, shucks, you guys!

Thanks for all the good wishes, folks. They freak me out a bit* but I really appreciate it.

Some answers, to questions both asked (here and elsewhere) and unasked.
1. Yes, we really are happy, despite the footnote.
2. No, we didn't exactly expect this. At least not right now. I have been duped by the media! That whole "trying" lark is a total myth!
3. See 1.
4. March. It's very new. No, I haven't been keeping secrets (not for more than a week anyway).
5. There is no such thing as too many knitted baby things.
6. More than one test to go on? You'd be surprised. The doctor laughed at me when I begged her to confirm. "No no!" she said. "The tests we use are just the same! No more accurate! You say you're pregnant and I believe you!" I mean REALLY what is the NHS coming to? Taking a patient's word for it? Ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous. The tests the doctors use are better because they are DONE BY DOCTORS. I don't know how to do a test! Ludicrous.
7. ...My body still seems to think it might be pregnant, though, so we're assuming the worst. I mean best. Assuming the best.
8. No, I haven't forgotten my long-held belief that babies are alien parasites, nor have I changed my mind. It's *my* alien parasite though.
9. No morning sickness** so far, but apparently the hormonal stupidity*** is already kicking in. See 8.
10. I didn't do it for the knitting (that's just a bonus). I did it for the cuteness of the skiing toddler. Man, that's enough reason all on its own.
11. I really, really, really don't plan to turn this into a pregnancy blog.

Ok that's all the questions dealt with. Just one more thing: thank you all, again, very much. I'm pretty terrified. And pretty scared of drifting apart from some of my very lovely friends. It would be very nice if that didn't have to happen. Please thank you.

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* I still don't really understand why I'm happy about this, why should you be? What's the big deal about babies anyway? They smell, they're noisy, and the world has enough of them. I mean, obviously my genes are great and all - Beloved's too - but is that enough reason to get excited about my spawn? You're weird.
** Which is reportedly a misnomer as it can strike any time of day, but usually when you've not eaten for a while. As Lucy said, "That explains why you're not getting it."
*** To those who've already sprogged: I am applying a very specific definition of "stupidity". Hormonally induced brain impairment is the only possible explanation for the fact that people have been known to have more than one baby, despite having gone through pregnancy/childbirth and knowing what it entails. Doesn't affect brain function in any other area, though.

Well, this is different.