Thalia's fertility journey: hopefully more comedy than tragedy

Home again, home again, jiggety jig

Well, what a two weeks it was. Austria involved me working very hard, not sure it worked as a 'gradual reintroduction to work' as I was on duty from 7am-9pm most days, and on a couple of days it was hard to find much time within that to see Pob. Mum did wonderfully with her, but the whole experience made Pob a bit unsettled and so I had terrible nights with her. Italy was superb, and she settled well once we were all together as a family - H met us at the airport and she was delighted to see him. Holidays in Italy will be top of my list for a long time now - only an hour's time difference, weather gorgeous, people in love with babies. All good ticks in my box. Of course Italians seem to love all babies, but I tell you Pob was extra specially charming. We got lots of "oh bellissima!" and even requests to take photos and video of her. She loved the attention from her adoring public and developed a new line in head shaking that really entertained the crowds.

We've been home since Friday but things have been very hectic. H's brother is having a kind of breakdown so we tried to see him on the way back from the airport, but he'd gone for a walk and didn't reappear before we had to leave to get Pob home for supper. Then Saturday my brother, SIL and two nephews arrived to stay for the weekend. It was lovely to see them but BOY is my 3-year-old nephew LOUD! His outbursts made Pob cry a couple of times, but equally he was very sweet with her and brought her toys when she was getting a bit screechy, announcing to me "this is to make him better." (he hasn't quite got the hang of pronouns yet).

Sunday was a big family party for my aunt, and Pob tired herself out smiling and head waggling at everyone. We got home just in time for me to give her supper, and for me to have a complete breakdown at the thought of the nanny starting in the morning. I just don't want this lovely time with Pob to end, to go back to work and leave her, but leave her I will, next Monday I start back at work.

The nanny started this morning, and so far it's fine, although she does talk a lot! She's already done some steamed pears and tidied Pob's toys, so it can't be all bad. It'll be a long week escorting her to all our usual haunts, but it will make me feel better to give Pob a week of having both of us together before I head off to work. Pob's fine with other people, but she clearly is a lot happier when I'm around.

I'm going back to work 4 days a week (although in my job 4 days a week may mean 5 days one week, 4.5 the next but try to get home early a few times). My aim is to get back from work in time to put her to bed each night when I'm in London. When I'm travelling obviously H will have to do bedtime as well as the nights, and the nights are no fun at the moment. I hope Pob decides she can sleep through the night again soon, it's been three months now since she slept through and H and I are both constantly tired. Perhaps this is just the new way of living, and in a few years we'll forget there ever was uninterrupted sleep between 11 and 7. We're alternating nights on duty but somehow even my one night off doesn't lead to be feeling completely refreshed.

So we're fine. Pob is still wonderful (I'd post pictures but typepad can somehow no longer see iphoto - anyone got any hints?), I'm rather stressed, but it's sunny out and I'm going to make the most of this last week together.

Back to the peesticks

About 2 weeks ago I noticed some signs of that lovely EWCM, you know, that stuff which means you're fertile. So I peed on an OPK, and after 3 days it turned positive. We used the opportunity to have some nookie on the relevant days, and then I got ridiculously excited. I seemed to have lost the infertile protective shield of pessimism. I knew it was a small chance, but I started to think about what it would be like to have babies 16 months apart (and was terrified at the prospect).

Those of you who have been around for a while will remember that I have known each time I was pregnant. The pullings and tuggings in my abdomen were utterly diagnostic. So I've been waiting for those tuggings, and a couple of times I've thought maybe, but in general my abdomen is just starting to feel heavy and full, as it does before a period.

Today is roughly 10dpo.I know it's early, but Pob and I are about to fly off on our travels, so I peed on another stick. And after three minutes it stared back at me. Snowy white. Although it's early, when I was pregnant with Pob I got such a strong positive on day 13 that I'm pretty sure I would have at least seen a whisper of a line on day 10. So the whiteness combined with the lack of clear symptoms means I'm 99% sure it's over.

I'm not really surprised, but I am ridiculously disappointed. I saw this cycle as another potential for a miracle baby, one conceived despite my endo and my age. I felt that if we got pregnant now, it would mean that infertility no longer had any hold on us (although I was also prepared for the terror of wondering if I'd miscarry again). Now that we've failed this cycle, I somehow feel we're right back in the middle of the drama, the waiting and longing and losing and all that sadness. That we're in for a year of not succeeding before we decide Pob isn't destined for a sibling.

Believe me, I know this is ridiculous. That I was ridiculous to hope, and that it's ridiculous to have lost all hope because it didn't work. But that's just where I am. It's an hour before we have to leave for the airport. We're packed, Pob is napping and I'm a bit sad.

The last time

On Sunday night, Pob's seven month birthday, we had our last breastfeed. I talked to her gently as she sucked away, and told her it was the last time. It was a lovely feed. I put her into bed after her story and her song, and came downstairs for dinner. H and I shared half a bottle of wine. It felt ok.

On Monday night I gave her her bottle. Throughout she kept diving for my boob, and whining. She drank the bottle ok, however, so I kept going with the routine, telling her the 'hippos go beserk' story and singing to her once she was in her swaddle in the cot. Then, as usual, I gave her her dummy and left the room. And she started crying. So I went back in, told her everything was ok, and left the room. And then she started crying again. Lather, rinse, repeat for 45 minutes before she eventually settled. I figured it was a bit of mourning for the boob, although I was surprised as she hadn't seemed to mind any of the previous feeds stopping.

On Tuesday we went through our usual routine. And this time it took 20 minutes to settle her. Better than last night, I thought. We're on the way up.

On Wednesday it took 30 minutes.

Tonight it took 1 hour 20 minutes, and she only settled in the end after H rocked her to sleep in the glider.

I dunno what to do. I don't want to go back to breastfeeding (oh I do I do, but I want to give my body some recovery time, not to mention the chance to get pregnant again), and let's face it, I'm sure there's not much milk in there for her right now. I don't want to have an unhappy baby, either. And I'm drawing a veil over the night time sleeping (ok, since you ask, last night I gave her a dream feed at 2230, then she woke at 215, settled on her own, 235, needed attention, 415, needed settling, 445, needed the dummy, 6am, was awake and didn't go back to sleep, although she was ok being entertained by her mobile for 20 minutes or so while I tried to pretend I was still sleeping). I'm worried that taking her away on Sunday is going to make it all worse, and worried about my mother looking after her all day - it turns out this training course I'm running is a very full agenda so I'm not sure I'll even be able to settle her each night.

Other than sleep things are wonderful. She naps beautifully during the day. She's really enjoying her solid food, and has become quite the roly poly baby. She tries to charm everyone she meets. She's gorgeous.

I just wish she'd sleep at night.

Back again

BT still sucks. Took several days longer than even a basic new connection to get our broadband reestablished. Despite the fact they all admitted it was their fault we got cut off in the first place. And we had to move the router to get the connection to work. So now it's under Pob's high chair which is not really ideal. But apparently the fact that the line in the study is not of sufficient quality for the router to be connected there is not their fault, either. I still want to kill someone as some kind of revenge for the hours I spent on the phone to them, the misery of talking to 17 different people, none of whom ever seemed to be able to access the records of our previous conversations, the people who made me cry...anyway, it was all rubbish and it's not over yet, but at least we're back on line. I hadn't consciously articulated the extent to which I depend on the internet(s) to keep me sane, to help me live my life.

Life is pretty hectic. We hired a nanny, neither of the two I wrote about before. She starts on 12 May. I'm going back to work 4 days a week (or 80%) on 19 May. Until then I'm working the equivalent of one day a week which is really cutting into my Pob time. We don't have any childcare set up but H is around some of the time, my mum has done some, and I've arranged telcos for when Pob is napping. I've been cooking all Pob's food, which takes quite a bit of time. Pob still isn't sleeping very well. I'm preparing to take Pob away for 2 weeks.The first to run a training course, my mum is coming to look after Pob so that I can work during the day. The second week Po and I will join H in Italy for a holiday. The amount of stuff I seem to need to take for her is quite extraordinary, I'm just glad mum doesn't think she needs to take much for herself. The trip is necessitating the purchase of a readily foldable stroller to get through customs. I really want a Bugaboo Bee, which is supposed to be foldable with one hand, but H and I tried it yesterday and it really isn't. The Maclaren techno is, but it's hideous, and doesn't look nearly as comfortable for Pob. But I should stop being such a fashion victim and just buy the Maclaren, yes?

I stopped pumping. I dropped the daytime pumps a few weeks ago, while we had visitors here from the US. After we stopped feeding Pob at 2230, I kept pumping at that time, partly in case we went back to doing that feed, partly to build a freezer stash for when I stopped breast feeding, so she could have breast milk for a bit longer. For the first few nights I got loads at this pump (for me) - around six or seven ounces (180-210ml). Then it started dropping, down to around 100mls. And looking thinner. It started to feel less important that I keep going. Last Saturday night was my last pump. Medela are coming to collect my Symphony on Tuesday. Today I threw away some of my more abused pumping equipment. Tomorrow I'm packing away the steriliser we kept in our bedroom for night time cleaning.

I don't miss the pumping (hahahaha) but I am finding it hard, and sad, to stop breast feeding. As expected, once I got down to two feeds a day, which is what I'm on now, my supply dropped fairly precipitously. Pob is still getting what she needs in the morning, as she has her porridge straight afterwards, but in the evening she has a bottle afterward the breast feed, and the amount she takes from the bottle has been steadily increasing over the last few days. I think in a week's time we'll be done with breast feeding. On the one hand, Yay us for keeping it up for so long after all the early misery, on the other hand, boo hoo for the loss of that physical relationship. I have too much to say on this to keep it to one paragraph, I'll try to write it another time.

In stopping pumping I've lost a couple of my opportunities to blog and comment. I no longer sit in bed in the middle of the night, with my lovely mac to keep me company, bottles attached to my boobs. I do miss that time, a bit. Well, I do and I don't. I wish I had not had to pump. I'm glad I did pump. I'm glad I had the internets to keep me going while I did. I miss the time I had to myself when I pumped while Pob and H slept. It was good and it was bad. It was.

BT - apparently lying to customers is just fine

Yes, as described in the title. Despite being promised twice that our broadband would be on within 24 hours, we still have no connection. When I call to ask why, their colleagues tell me they just lied to get me off the phone. And they say that with no sense of shame. I don't get it.

So sorry for no comments, neither wordpress nor blogger will let me comment from the blackberry. And Pob isn't about to let me sit in starbucks and blog, she's just allowed me to do a few work emails and that's it. Roll on next Monday, when it really may be switched on. Except that next Monday is the first day of the third week before I return to work. That is not exciting.

Am without internet at home. Am dying with frustration. Have yelled (in a restrained manner) at various BT employees for three hours this morning, hopefully connected again tomorrow.

Pob at six months

She's six months old. I've put away most of her 3-6 month size clothes as she's already too big for them, and some of the French and Italian 9-month size are only going to last another week or so. Those continental babies must be much skinnier than our English ones. But as my old nanny used to say, this is a baby who pays for dressing - she looks adorable in most things I put her in.

On the day of her half birthday she looked like a 1950s baby in a little sailor dress, all big smiles, mohican hair and lots of drool. Yesterday, when we had a few friends and family over for tea she wowed the crowds in trousers and a navy shirt, covered for the first part of the party by a long-sleeved bib which was rapidly smeared with the very delicious banana and apple she had for tea. She was very good natured as she was passed from lap to lap, grinning at everyone who smiled at her, peering around me as I fed her to look at the assembled crowds. Eventually at about 5pm she'd had enough and screeched loudly until I took her up for a nap. Unusually for her, she needed me to stay with her until she settled. I patted her gently and she stared at me with slightly worried eyes until eventually, with a big sigh, she spat out the dummy, turned her head and went to sleep. By the time she woke up everyone had gone, and when I brought her back downstairs she kept looking around the room, and then looking up at me, as if to ask where her adoring fan club had gone.

She loves people. When I take her to Gymboree she spends most of the time looking at the other babies and at the instructor, giving the adults in particular big gummy grins. After she grins she usually has to hide her head in my shoulder, as if her own charm is overwhelming her. This love of faces now extends to her toys, and she shows a marked preference for dolls and animal toys. Of course the first thing she does is to stick their heads in her mouth, but still, it's a preference. Jimbo the clown is the one toy we can use to make her laugh - singing the Jimbo song (to the tune of 'Wheels on the bus') makes her giggle with joy.

She's been sitting unaided since the day of her half birthday. She'd been managing 30 seconds or so for the last week or so, but that day was the first she really sat, bolt upright, and even managed to correct herself when she wobbled by throwing out her arm. She still has a tendency to overbalance and fall backwards, so some strategically placed pillows, or Mummy's legs, are still essential. If she goes forwards she simply rolls herself onto her arms, so that direction doesn't need protection to the same extent. The arrival of the Mozart cube from the US has helped the sitting up, as it keeps her entertained while she leans forward to chew on a corner or lean on a panel, and the lights keep her watching it as she sits upright and wobbles to and fro. Our early observation that music seemed to help calm her has been confirmed by her special interest in this toy, as well as by her wondering look and instant silence if she's been screamy, when we launch into song.

She now won't stay on her back for more than a few seconds, rolling over onto her tummy is now essential. Once on her tummy, though, she rapidly gets frustrated by her inability to go anywhere - and rolling back onto her back seems not to be the point, even though she can do it if she wants to. Instead, she wiggles desperately on her tummy in one of two ways - using her tummy as a pivot she rocks back and forth, kicking her legs and waving her arms, or she plants her face to the floor and wriggles one leg forward under her hips, then the other in a crawling motion but without ever having both her hips up in the air at the same time. She will eventually pause and lift herself up on her arms with a big sigh, looking around and exclaiming loudly at the annoyances of life. Our downstairs floor is slippery enough that this motion often pushes her backwards, and this really drives her bananas as she just gets further away from the object of interest. She can, however, twist herself round on her tummy to get at something she's interested in, or to watch us as we move around her. I regularly come back from the loo to find she's in a completely different position than when I left her. We keep meaning to start child proofing, but have done nothing about it yet. I'm sure that will come back to haunt us.

I bought her a bouncer a few weeks ago and she LOVES it especially when we turn on the nasty flashing lights. It's a horrible piece of plastic tat, the kind of thing you always thought you no child of yours would ever be allowed, but we don't have any doorways suitable for one of the plain door frame-based bouncers so it was this or nothing. And it makes her so happy, who I am to deny her the flashing lights and tinny music.  She loves bouncing enough that she often does it when being held upright on our laps, too, and this child is STRONG!

She was starting to babble about two weeks ago, saying 'Ma' for the first time on Mothering Sunday, followed by a selection of 'ba's 'da's and 'ya's. Since she started on the crawling motions and sitting, she's been babbling less, although I could have sworn she did a 'Mama' yesterday. Her cries of outrage also sound more like talking now. She doesn't just blow us an outraged raspberry, she articulates her frustration with a range of vowel sounds. This happens when I take her off the boob for a burp, when we aren't responding fast enough to her need for food once I've put her in the high chair, or when we've left her too long on her playmat without attention.

Feeding is going well. We started giving her solids a couple of weeks ago, and so far she's loved everything except broccoli, potato and mango (not together). Her favourite seems to be pear, with a mixture of avocado and banana a close second. I've been steaming and purreeing up a storm, and we now have a freezer full of cubes of courgette, apple, pear, sweet potato, butternut squash, carrot, broccoli, cauliflower, and pea. Today we'll give her courgette for the first time, tomorrow perhaps a second go at potato as the first one didn't mash well so she got a bunch of larger lumps in her mouth which made her gag. The solids have reduced her milk drinking somewhat - I breast feed her before each of her two solid meals a day then offer her milk again afterwards but she usually doesn't want it, or takes only an ounce. She has a huge bottle feed just before bed - often taking around 300mls (10 oz) - of a mixture of breast milk and formula, depending on how much I've pumped. And that's the big revolution around here, I've stopped pumping during the day. I started off by missing it, feeling it was a waste to leave any milk in the boobs at the end of a feed, but the extra benefits of having more time to do things, has persuaded me it's worthwhile. I've also skipped a couple of the 330am pumps, and although I'm not really feeling any less sleep deprived, I'm feeling better about starting to wean from the pump. Plus it means she gets a great feed when she wakes up, so that feels good.

The next step for us is to gradually reduce the breastfeeding. I feel incredibly proud of what we've achieved. After having successfully breast fed at the British Museum this week, and rather less successfully at the Natural History Museum - the difference being I was in private at the first, and in public at the second and BOY does this baby prefer to look around than to suck - I've managed to do what I always envisaged. I'm not ready to stop, but the looming of my return to work, and the need to start my reproductive system going again, mean it's time. I'm down to 30mg of domperidone a day, and expect to have stopped taking it by the end of the month. So far my supply seems to have persisted quite well, at least enough to get through four or five feeds a day, plus a couple of decent pumps - one in place of the dream feed and one in the middle of the night if I choose to do it. The next step is to drop a day time feed, and I haven't felt quite ready to do that yet, but I know it's necessary if we're even going to attempt giving Pob a sibling, and you know how important I think that is. It's coming. I'll miss it, but it's time.

Sleeping is better. We got her back to sleeping through the night by offering her 'hungry baby' formula at the dream feed, after her breast feed. That meant she just woke up once, usually around three, but was easily settled with a dummy and a bit of patting. Then we got ambitious. Two nights ago we decided to skip the dream feed. She always seemed to hate being woken, and it seemed worth a try. The first night she went til around 330, and after a go at settling her we gave in and fed her around 415. The second night - last night - she woke just once, at midnight, and settled after 10 minutes of patting. It seems we might be about to have a baby who sort of sleeps through the night. For a short while, I'm not counting any chickens, you understand.

What we didn't count on is how much WE enjoyed the dream feed. Although I know it's supposed to involve keeping the baby almost asleep while you feed, it never worked that way for us as by the time I'd breastfed the sleepy baby, then we'd given her the top up bottle, and changed her nappy, she was always pretty much awake. And we both really enjoyed hanging out together in bed with her. She'd be very smiley and happy, and often very cute as she drifted between sleep and sucking. When I breastfed her at this feed she's often fall asleep on me, and I'd pull her off the boob and let her sleep in my arms for a few minutes, enjoying the sneaky cuddle time that she doesn't allow when she's awake. When she'd scream because we'd interrupted her eating to burp her we'd sing to help her calm down and she'd look at us with such a look of puzzlement we'd always burst out laughing.We didn't do one final dream feed to enjoy it that last time, and so the first night we went without it we really struggled, sitting together on the sofa, moaning about how much we missed her. We don't know how to recreate that particular snuggle time, we'll have to figure something out as we're both in serious withdrawal.

Pob is a real person now, a real person who loves us and who loves our friends and family. She loves music. She loves bouncing. She's fascinated by mugs and glasses and water bottles. She sticks everything in her mouth. She loves Jimbo the clown. She loves pears and apples and carrots and butternut squash. She doesn't like being held too tight when there is a world to look at. I miss the tiny baby, but I love the explorer she's becoming.  Roll on the next six months.