Week 2…

…in the Little Viking House.

Where has the time gone? Two weeks old already?!

This week has actually felt quite long, as Lovely Boyfriend and I work out how Little Viking works best. He’s doing pretty well on a routine, although I know many people disagree with babies and routines.

Everything I read says feed on demand, cuddle and soothe at every moment and, my favourite, you can’t spoil a baby. Maybe not, but you can teach them bad habits REALLY quickly! It would be sooooo easy to cuddle Little Viking to sleep in the afternoons when he’s grumpy before bed. But then I’d never be able to put him down between 5 and 7 without a bit of crying (sometimes a LOT of crying). So then I have to carry him every day for those two hours. Then he decides it’s comfy and wants to be held at other times of the day too…and where do you stop?

So we have a routine and we stick with certain ideas about when to allow our Little Viking to cry for 5-10 minutes before acting. He’s thriving on it and I get to carry out such luxuries as eating dinner at a reasonable hour, and sleep for more than an hour at a time overnight. In fact, even though last night was a “bad” night, because he woke earlier than expected, I was still only woken at 2.15 and 6.20 am. A good night (around 10 of them so far) is when he wakes between 3 and 4, and then I wake him at 7. Sleep is important and we’re all getting what we need in order to remain functional and happy.

I didn’t know where I was going with this blog when I started; I had no plans to write a defence of routines but that’s apparently where my mind is at this morning.

I like routine. My BPD thinks it needs routine to keep anxiety at bay. Certainly, I don’t cope particularly well when plans change or things don’t happen as I expected them to. That makes parenting a real potential minefield, because when do babies ever do what’s expected of them? Well, when you gently guide them into a routine…

I really noticed a drop in my mood on the one night last week where his routine really did go to pot (a kindly meant action by his Viking Granny – giving him a small feed at the wrong time – led to a disrupted night for us all). Not helped by the baby blues hormones of day 10, Lovely Boyfriend had to comfort a crying baby AND a crying Mum at 2 am. Thankfully my hormones died away and I didn’t have to resort to medication (not that I won’t go down that route if it turns out to be necessary). I gave the CMHT a quick ring and took their advice (the same as that given by Lovely Boyfriend) to reframe my thoughts and expectations. I’m still rather pessimistic in my outlook on how things will be if he starts crying (I.e. he won’t stop/ he probably has a milk intolerance), but I’m not as bad as I could be. I hadn’t quite realised how traumatised I was by Minimus and all her health problems as a baby (reflux and various intolerances). It’s something I’ll work on with my CPN when she gets back from holiday. For now I just remind myself that Little Viking is a different baby and, actually, is quite reasonable and content for much of the time.

In other, lighter news, my Little Viking has decided that air is a precious commodity which must be hoarded at any cost. I appreciate boys will be boys and I’m going to have to get used to a certain amount of farting and belching in the future, but seriously?! I think my wee man could set up as his very own wind farm at this rate! The donkey noises he makes as he drinks his milk are also incredibly amusing…

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Grumpy face getting winded!

Week 1…

…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.

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