Thalia's fertility journey

Pob snippets number 6

Pob: I want an orange! (she means clementine)

Thalia: You've already had 2 oranges darling, no more now

Pob: I want an orange please!

Thalia: Sweetie, no more oranges now, lunch is finished

Pob: I want an orange little bit please Mummy!

Thalia: What did Mummy say Pob?

Pob: (thinking)

Pob: Yes my can!

Thalia: (laughing)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scene: Driving

Pob: Where's my home?

Thalia: We have to go round the big roundabout, turn right then go straight down the road, then we'll be home

Pob: Where's my home

Thalia: (repeats)

Pob: See my home soon. Where's Granny's home?

(etc)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scene: In Mummy and Daddy's bed in the morning. Mummy is feeding Junior. Daddy is having a shower. Pob is drinking milk and watching CBeebies

Pob: Want my giraffe

Thalia: It's Junior's giraffe darling

Pob: I can share it

____________________________________________________

What am I doing here?

As part of the great blog cross-pollination, organised by the lovely Geohde, I am proud to present the post of someone infinitely more gifted in the creative sphere than I am.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

It is one of the realities of my life that as I lose the ability to remember exactly what I did last weekend or the name of the new staff member I was introduced to not five minutes ago, I am compensated by wide open access to the part of my brain that stores more distant memories.

My grandmother died more than 34 years ago. Yet I am often overcome with very clear moments of time I spent with her as a child, absorbing her stories and learning to cook. Last Saturday afternoon I was making scones for afternoon tea and as I sprinkled flour on the granite counter I was instantly transported back to my very small self, listening to Granny as she warned me of the dangers of over handling the dough or making it too wet or not having the oven hot enough.

Her absence, and now that of my parents and siblings, is particularly keen as the year draws to a conclusion. I really do love summer and look forward to it despite the fierceness and cruelty that can come with it in my little corner of the world. But, more and more often, in the early days of December I find my mind drifting down into a quieter, more retrospective and infinitely sadder place.

I am acutely aware of the fact that in just two more weeks our end of the planet will have tilted as far as it is going to towards the sun and, inevitably, it must begin its eternal swing back. These days the excitement of Christmas is closely tempered by the reality, that in the bigger scheme of things, cosmic forces are bringing summer to an end as I have barely begun to feel its effects.

For me at least, it is that reminder of the inevitable cycle of life, moving at the edge of my consciousness that brings with it such vivid memories. Of all the things I will never do again, of everyone and everything that I have loved and lost. And that is achingly bittersweet but incredibly real.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

Any ideas who it is? Guess in the comments, then go here to find out

Pob at 26 months: The importance of being kind

Last week, Pob turned 26 months old. Biggest change this month is language. She has now reached real fluency with language, using complete sentences, and  correct tense and grammar almost all the time. This month she switched from "Pob do it" to "I do it," for example, and now uses "I" and other pronouns correctly most of the time, with some misses on the me/you split such as "Help you." Of course she still gets plenty wrong, to whit as an incident earlier this week. She slipped down a couple of stairs while climbing them, and it gave her a fright. She cried for a bit, I comforted her, then her nanny appeared to take her out. They left our room together to go down stairs, after a little bit of persuasion as Pob didn't want to go. Once she'd agreed to head down the stairs she said: "I'm not scarey any more"

She's understanding language rules, and these are leading to some of the more adorable mixups such as yesterday when I asked her if she was hungry. She agreed "Yes, I'm hungry, and I'm play-ey." Nice try, darling.

This shift to fluency was accompanied by some very adult turns of phrase. She now uses "Umm" when she can't think of what word to use. She regularly tells Junior what to do: "You stay here with Mummy, Junior, I'm going downstairs with Daddy." She repeats everything she hears. And her most common phrases are "I want it/that/some of those" and "What's that called?" She also uses substitutes - "I want that thingy" and "Where's that stuff."

Pronounciation is really very good. She misses a few things. 's's in the middle of words often disappear. Double 'tt's become 'p's - "boppom," for example. But the 'p' for 'f' substitution has gone - 'breakfast' is now correct. And some words she just has her own pronounciation for, most notably 'muter' for 'computer.' Like all our children, I suspect, the 'muter' is of great interest, and I've now realised computer manufacturers either don't know this or have a sick sense of humour, locating the 'on/off' switch so prominently in an easily touchable spot.

She remains a strong willed child, and we've had some spectacular tantrums over sharing toys with Junior, and when we just simply are not giving her exactly what she wants right now. It's hard to remain calm sometimes when she starts to break down even after I've said she can have the required object, it's just that it's going to take me all of 30 seconds to get it. Mostly I manage, but with gritted teeth. 

She is also extremely loving and social. She kisses Junior goodnight every night, and asks to hold him. Sometimes. She helps to wash him in the bath and has been showing him how to bounce in his bouncer. With the little friends we have who are her age she shares reasonably well, and is happy to give and receive hugs while they are playing.

She wants desperately to play with older children, though, and particularly with her cousins. Luckily H's nephews are adorable with her and give in to every whim. My nephews, and one in particular, are not so kind. Today at my mother's house, cousin J just refused to play with her at all. He's seven. I feel he should be old enough to give her 5 minutes of his time and to understand how important it is to her. She seems to rise above it, though, and managed to play with him even while he was clearly not playing with her - saying "chase, chase" and running behind him as he walked around the flat, asking where he was every time he left the room and running to find him and bring him back. It really hurts my feelings on her behalf, even while it clearly doesn't hurt hers. I can't protect her, I can't make him a kinder boy, but I wish I could. I worry about my nephew, and wish he could have a bit of the joy that a friend's seven year old had last week when she played 'house' with Pob non-stop for a whole afternoon, including building the house, drawing pictures to hang on the walls, having a tea party, cooking supper, washing up the dishes, having races on Pob's wheelybugs, and dressing up as fairies. Pob was enchanted, and couldn't stop gazing at the seven year old in adoration, finding it hard to let go of her hand as if the child would spontenously vanish if released. I wish my nephew understood what he's missing.

Oh Pob, I wish for you that you will find the kind children, and understand that the unkind ones are only like that because they aren't getting what they need out of life, or because life is not being very kind to them, and not because there is anything wrong with you.

Pob snippets no. 3

"Put the dummy there, just in case I need it"

While watching what looked like a rather fun art activity with a tennis ball, paint, and a lot of newspaper on CBeebies: "Do that tomorrow please"

"Poo in the potty, no, pee in the potty, yes!"

When I had to brake suddenly: "Going too fast Mummy!" 

When H and I were both cuddling her and pretending to eat her ears: "Silly Mummy! Silly Daddy!"

"Going to the park, Mummy, Daddy, Junior and Pob all together!"

"Go to the park soon, after sleep"

She is taking great care with pronunciation, particularly when there are two consonants together, so "sleep" is pronounced "sur-leep", "plan" is "pur-lan" etc.

September and October have been full of parties for her friends, so now every time she puts on a dress she says: "Party, Mummy?" And once, in the playground, rather wistfully "No party today, Mummy?" I think I will throw a little Chanukah party for her to keep up the party experience.

I know tomorrow you'll find better things

Thank you for the sympathy. Yesterday was better and today is doing ok so far. Yesterday:

• I took Junior out for his post-breakfast nap, so I got a walk. He only slept for 30 minutes but when he woke was happy to look at the passing clouds and leaves so it was quite pleasant
• We walked to the post office where I kicked up enough fuss (and enough money) that they decided to release my domperidone
• On the way home I sat in Starbucks for 10 minutes, read the paper, ate a cheese and Marmite panini and had a few sips of a decaf skinny mocha, no whip
• In the afternoon our current nanny decided to bake a cake with Pob, which Pob thought was a blast, and she also took charge of Junior for 45 minutes so I walked round the corner and sat with my book and a decaf cap in our local deli
• My mum came round to put Pob to bed as H was out for the evening. Pob loves her Granny
• Both children went straight to sleep

It was a much better day.

This morning, I got a call from that nursery school. They're very sorry they sent that letter out. They had a class full of siblings so very few places for new children. But one of the siblings has pulled out since they are moving to the country, and Pob was top of the list for a place, so, would she like it?

I feel better. I also feel conflicted as now I actually have to make a decision about whether the school is right for Pob since she will almost certainly get in to another, closer school which is a bit more relaxed. But it's good to be wanted.

__________________

I need a new title for the blog. Any ideas? I've been musing on some combo of 'evolving infertility', 'Post-post-infertility', 'Evolutionary parenting' but nothing seems very catchy or particularly witty. I've always regretted choosing the original title in a hurry on a day when I just wanted to start writing NOW NOW NOW, so I'm prepared to spend a bit more time trying to be creative this time. I don't feel right letting go completely of the infertility part, even though we won't be doing treatments again. I used to study evolution, hence that reference. The blog won't be just parenting so I don't want to major on that too much, although it will be a part of it. Your creativity much appreciated.

Bad day

Today I:

• Listened to my baby scream on and off for most of the morning while I tried to get him to nap, gave up but then could not constantly hold him but put him down occasionally to answer the phone/make myself a sandwich/eat the sandwich/brush my teeth etc.
• Dealt with some work crap
• Tried to get a hair appointment booked for the first time in 5 months, involving juggling my temperamental colourist, my hair cutter, my MIL for baby-sitting, and my own timing. Plus the salon reception
• Heard from a nanny agency that they don't have anyone else to send us who is a good fit for our position (short version of long story, the current nanny is not working out)
• Heard that the nanny we were interviewing tonight had accepted another job
• Heard that the nanny we invited back for a second interview isn't interested
• Heard that Pob has been turned down by the nursery school we want her to go to (WHY WHY WHY?? How can anyone turn us down - we are lovely and Pob is remarkable!)
• Got told by inhousepharmacy.co.uk that the domperidone I need to keep my supply going has been impounded by the post office and it's not their problem and they will not resend until the end of the week despite there being a mail strike and despite its essential nature to my life*

It was a bit of a crap day.

* Updated to add, they have now agreed to resend, but said it may take up to a month. I am buggered.

Losing it

There are several posts which traditionally show up in the few months after a baby is born. That is if you are a common-or-garden blogger like me, rather than if you are a superstar creative writer like, say, Julie, or Alexa. And even they have been known to write one or two of these. Some experiences are . To my reckoning, those posts are:

• I have a baby, he/she is the best thing that ever happened to me
• The baby doesn't sleep, what do I do?
• Breastfeeding is awful/wonderful/stressful/impossible (delete as appropriate)
• I'm so utterly sleep deprived I just [insert humorous anecdote here]
• My husband isn't helping/is wonderful/doesn't get it/I've fallen more in love with him than ever
• I'm still fat/the weight has just dropped off aren't I lucky

This post falls into the last category, and guess which side of it I am experiencing. Not hard, is it? I have quite a history with weight issues. Not exactly a shocker given the experience of others in this community, not to mention the global privileged world female population.

I'm currently carrying the 15lbs of infertility weight, and another 10lbs of post-pregnancy weight. I was actually losing weight beautifully in the few weeks after Junior was born. It was like magic, stepping on the scales every morning and watching them plummet down. I don't know how much I lost in those weeks as didn't weigh myself after the third month of pregnancy, but everyone commented on how little weight I'd gained this time and when I first weighed myself post-birth, when Junior was about 2 weeks old, I felt pretty optimistic given I was already below the weight I had been four months after Pob was born. But then the weight loss stopped. And then I started gaining again. I managed to halt the gain at only 4lbs by stopping buying my favourite chocolate biscuits, and by walking more with the pram. But that just halted the gain, it hasn't helped me lose more. And the walking with the pram has fallen foul of napping bootcamp (of which more anon), which doesn't help.

The perennial problems are two. First, that I really like food, and second that I eat for comfort. The one time in my adult life that I have been in great shape was around our wedding, and then the impetus to look my best in that huge public display outweighed the two underlying issues. Although I never really gave up on the first one, I always ate delicious food, just less of it and didn't give up chocolate, I just cut back. And exercised A LOT.

But right now the emotional eating side is strong. I've been stuck mostly in the house for four weeks trying to get Junior to nap. I suppose I should just declare defeat (although there has been some progress) and get out again. But I'm bloody minded enough to sense that things might get better and therefore to keep going. And my approach to breast feeding takes so long that the time I have to exercise at all is limited in any case (cue the bloody minded riff again). And the slots that I do have are taken up spending time with Pob, which doesn't give me much exercise as even her favourite activity - running - doesn't happen for long enough or fast enough for me to get a lot of cardio out of it.

So I'm not really exercising, and I feel hard done by enough that I'm eating more than I probably need. Not excessively, but enough not to shift the weight. And I'm getting fed up with not fitting into my nice clothes, but not fed up enough to stop myself from eating that extra bit of chocolate. I'm not sure I'm up for another search into my unconscious to work on the emotional eating bit - although perhaps it would help Pob a lot in the long run - but I am up for trying to find time to exercise, persuading H to give me smaller portions at supper, and perhaps limiting the amount of chocolate in the house. I just need to get on and do it. 

Last week I went out with some of the women from my ante-natal group (from my pregnancy with Pob, I didn't do classes again this time). One already has a second child, one is pregnant, the other two are trying. I confessed to them it was the first time I'd been out since Junior was born, and they were horrified. Particularly the one who already has two children- the second being born just a year after her first. She is somewhat of a socialite and has a very active social life and regular date nights with her husband. She was moved to write me an email asking if I thought I had PND since she was shocked at my lack of activity and lack of confidence ( I should note all these women are at least 6 years younger than me and all but one shed all their baby weight in about a month after their first children were born*). 

I don't think I have PND, I'm certainly a lot more stable than I was after Pob was born. But I am hard on myself. And I am very tired after all these months of feeding in the night. But that's normal at this stage of parenting, yes? I could definitely get out more if I made different choices about my parenting, and it's true that the morning I took Pob out to a charity party and left Junior to have a bottle with our nanny was the morning I've felt the best in a long time. So perhaps that's the key.

Hence a resolution. I'm taking Junior to a cranial osteopath tomorrow to see if that helps to settle him a bit better. Either way, by the end of this week I will be heading out for a fast walk with the pram once a day. And I will try to take a deep breath and start to leave Junior a bit so that I can do more activity and am not tied to being in the house every three hours during the day (yes I know one can breastfeed outside the house, but it's hard with my SNS set up to do so effectively and discretely, and Junior has got to that stage where he's very interested in the world around him so he feeds poorly anywhere other than my bedroom, and also I want to keep my supply up as it's very fragile at the best of times so I do need to pump regularly, and...). Doing so might mean Junior has to have a bit of formula occasionally, and I'm thinking about that. Not ok with it just yet, but I think I need a bit of my life back, as well as doing a bit more to get my body back, before I go back to work and surrender a big part of my life again. 

Cue a whole new post about mothers and guilt and whether it's just my job to sacrifice what I need for my children right now. But I'll stop here and start that one another day.

* And please don't slam them. They are lovely women who love me a lot and appreciate me, they just happen to be rather lucky in the fertility and beauty stakes. Although 'lucky' is a bit relative as one has had two miscarriages and one had horrible anaemia and couldn't breastfeed and one had premature labour and pre-eclampsia.

Pob at two

Three weeks ago Pob became a two-year old. I'll spare you the "oh my goodness it was only yesterday she was a tiny baby" speech, but it does feel a bit that way. We had a lovely party for her. I had doubted my sanity, inviting people round to a house with a toddler and a non-sleeping baby, but I felt more strongly that we needed to recognise her birthday. And once I started inviting people, it rapidly got to 30 guests, when we included family, gdparents, and my college friends and their children.

It went incredibly well, thanks to great teamwork from H and I, my mother, and our nanny. Between us we baked and made sandwiches and fruit skewers, tidied and cleaned and decorated, and got Pob dressed in a lovely red dress with doggies on it (her favourite animal). My MIL arrived with a big present, the scones, jam and clotted cream. People came and hung out, ate lovely food, chatted, and admired Pob. Their children decorated t-shirts and played with completely age-inappropriate toys. Pob gloried in the attention, although making clear her preference for some people (Granny, cousin J) over others. 

So what is she like, my now nearly-25-months-old? She is very very vocal, as always. She has started to use "I" instead of "Pob" although it's mixed. We now have correct use of possessives and pretty good sentence structure overall - this morning's was "please open this for me," "that's my monitor," (well, no, it's baby Junior's), "I want that apple," and "Help Pob, this is too hard for me."  She has a sense of time: "Daddy working, home later," "Have raisins soon," and can even apply it to days, although not sure she gets it: "Granny coming tomorrow." She understands very complex stories. My mother went away for a few weeks, and told Pob that she was going in a plane, and would be back when Pob was a bit bigger. A few weeks later Pob told me "Granny plane. Pob a bit bigger. Granny coming back." 

But she's still also a baby in some ways, and finds it hard to deal with the strong emotions she feels. We get at least 5 breakdowns a day, normally over not much. Just dropping a strawberry on the floor during lunch a few weeks ago caused a total meltdown. And when she can't have just what she wants NOW RIGHT NOW we also get poor screaming Pob. She sometimes narrates this breakdown: "Matter! Matter" (i.e., we usually ask "what's the matter?" and she's picked up just the main word), "Pob crying!", and "Need a dummy, need a dummy now!"

One strategy I've recently adopted is taken from Elizabeth Pantley's "No-cry discipline solution." I ask her where her happy voice is: "Is it in your tummy? Is it in your pocket?" She has decided it's usually in her pocket, and almost always, as if by magic, she can pull it out, and put it back in her mouth, and the tantrum is over. I'm hoping it's a strategy that will continue to work. 

She is now getting a bit jealous of the baby. Ever since I set up a playmat for him in our playroom, she's wanted all toys to be hers. And when I got to put him down, we have a merry dance of 'Pob's turn! Pob's turn!" for all the possible locations. Although if I ask her to make a choice, she will usually pick one and stick to it. And if I ask her for one toy for Junior she will usually offer him one. Surprisingly, she's become quite generous with other children, and readily shares her bucket and spade at the sandpit. "Pob sharing today." The baby is clearly more of a threat.

This jealously has sadly extended to bathtime. Until recently I was bathing Junior in the handbasin in our bathroom, while Pob had a bath upstairs with Daddy in her bathroom. But Junior, bless him, is now over 16lbs (7.2 kilos, and all on breastmilk, and yes I do feel good about that) and rather too big for the handbasin. So I suggested to Pob they could bath together. She was initially quite keen on this, but the moment I put Junior into the bath she started objecting: "Junior's in the WAY! Get OUT Junior!" Luckily Junior's not up for a long bath anyway, but it did disrupt my imagined nice happy bathtime somewhat. No doubt she'll get used to it.

This month Granny is her absolute favourite person. Followed probably by Daddy, and then by me. The amount of time I've spent with the baby is coming home to haunt me, I think. I love that she loves my mother that much, though. Luckily Granny has been able to spend quite a bit of time with us, including a few overnights (Granny sleep here! On this bed!"). But Granny going away is hard for Pob. At bedtime two nights ago she was reading Puff the magic dragon with Daddy. While reading the last verse she said "Puff sad! Crying!" Daddy agreed, and she added "Pob sad". Daddy asked why, and she answered "Granny gone." Oh dear.

The playground drama has begun. She badly wants to play with the big girls. But most of the big girls don't want to play with her. A few days ago she was on the see saw with one older girl. Pob eventually had enough of being bounced very hard, and asked to get off. The girl decided she'd had enough too, and headed off towards the big slide. Pob ran after her, holding out her hand, asking "Want to play! Want to play with me!" But the girl didn't look back. And the day before yesterday some big girls were playing a twirling game. Pob laughed and ran over to them, doing her version of twirling which is to run round in circles while laughing and looking up at them. They completely ignored her. And my heart broke a little.

She does love to be active. She wants to run everywhere now, and really enjoys her gym and football classes. But she also hits toddler walls of exhaustion where she can do nothing except sit, or possibly lie, on the pavement, unable to move. For about a minute. Then she wants to run again. Not to anywhere in particular, but just to run.

I've heard that they get more mobile as they get more emotionally able to move away from you. I see that that's true. But I didn't realise to what extent I'm not ready for her to move away from me. She's doing it, but I'm way behind on my own developmental stages.

The end of the fertility journey

I will never be pregnant again.

Really. We have decided that we don't want any more children. The newborn stage with Junior has persuaded me that no matter how much I love my children, I don't need to be that sleep deprived again. Nor do I really want that emotional struggle with breast feeding again. If we'd started earlier, if I had that much more energy, if we even had the option of conceiving easily, when we wanted to, then it would be on the cards. But two children is perfect for us, and I can't help thinking that having three would start to get very complicated in the parenting stakes - speaking as one of three children.

Just because we don't want them, doesn't mean we wouldn't have a surprise. It's very unlikely, but it has happened to others in our community. Well, we are taking steps to remove that option. H has had the preliminary consult for a vasectomy, and has said he will make the appointment before the end of the week. He said, very forcefully, when I pushed him on whether he was happy with permanently ending his fertility, that even if he ended up in another relationship because I had died, he would have enough on his hands with his two children and would not want more. He is committed to the family we have.

We also have several frozen embryos. I can't actually remember how many, somewhere between 6-8. But they were never the best embryos from any cycle, and if we wanted to use them it would be a long and probably painful process of suppression, estrogen, trigger, progesterone, transfer, and possibly a chemical pregnancy or two before we were done. And besides, we don't want any more children. We don't want any more children.

As others have written, though, it's hard to let frozen potential children go even when you know a pregnancy might kill you, let alone because having more children just isn't right for you and your family. Nevertheless, I am psyching myself up to remove our frozen embryos as an option. We will donate them to research. There is no option that I know of to donate them to another family, and even if there was, I'm too old to be an egg donor in the UK so fairly sure that would rule us out. I'll make that call tomorrow. Or the next day. Or after the weekend, perhaps. Well, we have mentally let them go, at least.

With the vasectomy/donation double hit, we will have no other chances to be pregnant again. And I am sad about that, no matter how I think through the misery of sleep deprivation and the pain of failing again to breastfeed my children successfully. I am sad that Pob will not have a sister. I am sad that I will never again use the little white Egyptian cotton babygro with the two little embroidered silver feet on the breast, the babygro which was the first thing I ever bought for Pob. I am sad that I'll never again have that newborn on my chest, conked out between one suck and the next. I have fallen in love so hard with my babies, both times. I fell in love at different points, and it didn't preclude moments of despair and frustration at the screaming infant at a later point. But I won't get to fall in love like that again.

It's sad, but it's wonderful, too. Wonderful that I got to experience that at all. Five and a half years ago we started trying to conceive, and four and a half years ago I started writing about it. There were moments on the journey when I was convinced it would never happen for us. And then moments where I thought Pob would be an only, and mourned for her and for us that sibling relationship. But now here we are, a family of four, and those who meet us now assume it was all smooth sailing - after all, our children are only 21 months apart, and who would 'choose' that? And we have the boy and the girl that people assume must be what we wanted. We have been so incredibly lucky.

And yes, some of that luck is because I pressured and argued, researched and fought for the best treatment, the best treatment as soon as it was possible, fast, no waiting. But that's just a small part of how we got here. An important part, but a small part. Others argue and fight and research and it doesn't happen for them. I have no rationale for why it happened to us other than the weird quirks of my biology, the randomness of that sperm and that egg, and that sperm and that egg and that test tube and that embryologist and that catheter and that drug and the resulting embryo happening to hit the uterine lining just so, and find just the right blood vessel to colonise, and...

So the fertility journey is done. So what, pray, am I doing with this blog, with this blog title? Not writing much, that's for sure. But this isn't goodbye. It's my space, it's our community even if the community I am truly part of now is more naturally those parenting after infertility, with a strong emotional connection on my part, if not on theirs, to those who were in the trenches with me but who didn't make it out, whose embryos never quite found the right bit of the uterine lining. I will try to change the title to more accurately reflect my life now, but I will remain here until they consign Typepad to the dust. The blog got me through, you got me through, through infertility and pregnancy and breastfeeding and the start of parenting.

Junior is stirring. This post didn't end up being what I thought it was going to be. But it is what it is. And I am here, now. A parent.

So. Napping bootcamp then.

You asked what napping bootcamp entails? Well, it first entailed getting in a sleep nanny who was recommended by a colleague. She came in to do one nap with us, but stayed for two given that Junior simply refused to nap for the whole duration of the first one. She gave us various hints tips and tricks to try to get him down, most of which you've heard before, including darkening the room, swaddling him, having a regular schedule, offering a dummy as a nap cue but taking it away before he is completely asleep, picking him up if he gets distressed, patting until he's calm, then putting him down again, etc. She asked us to make sure that almost all his naps for the next week would be at home in a darkened room, and to make an exception only for the late afternoon nap if we had to.

Being me, we've adhered to the plan almost in every detail in an attempt to give it a good try. The only area where I've been a bit lax is in sticking precisely to time. Sometimes I'll go 15 minutes later if he's finally asleep rather than waking him. But other than that we've been very good. And the results have been...mixed. I thought we'd cracked it when on Monday it took only 15 minutes to get him down for his morning nap, and he went down with no fuss at all, just a little grumbling, for the lunchtime nap. But then Tuesday every nap took at least 25 minutes to kick in, and the breakfast one was really screamy as well. Yesterday the morning and lunchtime naps only took 10 minutes each, and the only crying was when I first put him down, he immediately calmed down when I put my hand on him and then just grumbled and then lay quietly while he waited for sleep. But yesterday afternoon he only slept for 10 minutes of the hour's nap time, and this morning took 20 minutes again, although not much of it was crying.

So I dunno. It's been a long week, and unlike the previous not-very-successful napping strategy of putting him in his pram and walking, I've barely left the house. I'm going to give it another 3 days or so and then start to try him in his pram as well as in his room as I'm not prepared to be housebound for the next three months. I like to think this will work eventually but so far I'm not totally convinced.