…in the Little Viking’s House.
I am officially a full-time Mummy again. *Happiest grin in the world* (even bigger than that).
Our very own Little Viking arrived exactly on his due date; probably the only time in his life he’ll be on time for anything. I thought I’d blog about what happened and continues to happen each week for prosperity (and major embarrassment factor when he’s older).
I was extremely fed-up waiting on my due date. Porglet Minimus was 5 days early so, in my head, Little Viking would be equally obliging. Expectations and mental health are a dumb combination.
Anyway, 1.45am on D-day and I woke up to my waters going (freaky coincidence as it’s the same time of morning as my waters went with Porglet Maximus). Lovely Boyfriend got us to the maternity unit and the midwife (same one as delivered Minimus, the lovely Julie) figured we’d have ages yet. She said the same thing with Minimus and clearly hadn’t learned her lesson! Lovely Boyfriend thought he was going to have to catch Little Viking himself when Julie was busy on the phone!
He didn’t, and Little Viking was born at 4.26am, a very respectable 7lb 5oz (3310g).
Since then, we’ve had a tongue-tie snipped and discovered that Little Vikings do NOT LIKE getting dressed/undressed. Nappy changes are equally disliked upon what is now referred to as the Changing Mat of Doom.
Little Vikings DO like gulping milk and having cuddles with Mummy and Daddy. He also loves looking around at anything and everything (who knew a ceiling could be so fascinating, and STAIRS!). Going for a walk in our awesome babycarrier is fun when the weather permits (I don’t normally name brands etc but Olives & Applesauce carrier; amazing and also Lovely Boyfriend approved), but we don’t do very settled in the evening. We do, however, generally sleep well between 11 and 4, so that’s something.
Even though he’s here, and very much so at times, I still find the whole idea of having a son surreal. He wasn’t planned, but is turning out to be the most wonderful accident ever.
I get tearful sometimes, generally when I start to feel anxious about what will happen next. Will he settle? Will he get wind and scream for the next three hours/days/weeks? Will he develop reflux like Minimus? What do I DO with him when he’s awake? When will he wake up?
Uncertainty, that’s the thing. My BPD doesn’t get on with uncertainty and there’s nothing more uncertain than a baby! Thankfully I have Lovely Boyfriend home for just under 3 weeks still, and we’re working out a decent routine to suit us all. I also know I can call on lots of people for support when needed, something I couldn’t really do with either Porglet. And, of course, I have the Porglets themselves. They, and Gormlet, are utterly smitten with their new brother, even though none of them have really seen much of him due to the school holidays.
Anyway; that’s Week 1 of dealing with a newborn and BPD at the same time. As I said to Lovely Boyfriend’s Mum last night (much to her amusement), we’ve made it through the first week and we’re all still alive and generally happy…anyone who has been in a similar situation will understand how amazingly awesome that really is.