Tuesday 14 July 2009

day 6

Well, what a (almost) week Isla's had! Since my last post, she's sprouted a bellybutton (her cord stump fell off at some point on Sunday night), had her first bath, sorted out a 4 hourly feeding routine (fingers crossed), and received her NHS number so she's officially In The System in terms of healthcare. She had her GP check on Friday, after much confusion on the part of a receptionist whose brain exploded trying to figure out how to cope with a lack of paperwork because I used an independent midwife. The doctor was absolutely fantastic with her (I think he may have done the 6 week check for Mia and I) and Mia had a grand time playing with toys and making the doctor's table go up and down. Bed goes up, bed goes down.

Breastfeeding is going well. As I mentioned, Isla has discovered the joys of a full milky meal (vs. the superfood snack of colostrum) and feeds every 4 hours or so. My milk came in overnight late Thursday, and I'm so thrilled that engorgement has passed me by again this time. I don't even leak, which is very odd for me. Odd, but good. I've had two nights with little stretches of unbroken sleep, which has been bliss. Although it takes her quite a while to feed (around 45 minutes in total, including a nappy change), she feeds well and it keeps her belly full for a few hours. It really does make a world of difference when you can doze for a good three hours in a row.

On Saturday, I had my usual Day 3 Postnatal Hormonal Crash. This is the point at which something awful happens hormonally (no clue what - probably a big drop in pregnancy hormones, which I also experienced on day 3 after miscarrying) that causes you to turn into a lunatic for a short while. It's like PMS times a thousand with really bad jet lag. I was so exhausted; I couldn't even see straight. I had zero patience for anything, and every tiny thing stressed me out to no end. Despite this, I was fine when friends came to visit although I didn't feel entirely coherent. I didn't have a great night on Saturday, but felt a million times better on Sunday morning. We went to our local pub to meet up with friends for a birthday celebration and post fun run BBQ. It was a brilliant, brilliant afternoon. The weather was gorgeous, Isla got attention and cuddles from loads of people, and the kids (all THREE of them) had the best sleep that night in ages. Yesterday, we ventured out to Tesco in Bar Hill where I ran, with arms outstretched, towards the cheese aisle and filled our trolley with soft and/or unpasturised treats. If I could, I would have leapt into the air, done a somersault, and dived headfirst into the brie section. As we walked down the next aisle, I realised that I could also now have cured meats. With glee, I grabbed packages of salami, parma ham, and cured beef. Lunch was mighty, mighty fine let me tell you.

Now, about her name. To save a bit of time and confusion, please note that:
a) Her name is pronounced "eye-lah", like Isla Fisher the actress.
b) No, she wasn't named for Isla Fisher.
c) No, we didn't realise that Isla is an anagram of Lisa until after she was born and Paul was typing it out.

I can't tell you how many times all of these points have come up. It doesn't upset me at all, it's just funny because none of this crossed our minds since we came up with her name several months ago. It never occurred to me that people wouldn't know how to pronounce Isla (particularly our American family and friends) and I most definitely didn't name her "after" me! 'Cos you know, if I wanted to do that, she'd just be Lisa Junior. Or Lisa the Second. Or Lisette? Perhaps Mini Me. Her middle name, Catherine, is after my mom (although she's a Catharine, after St Catharine's, Ontario, her birthplace) and Paul's late Nan. If this baby was a boy, he would have been Ewan Michael (although I was also leaning towards Ewan Andrew.) We came up with Isla and Ewan by going through baby name web sites and happened to pick two Scottish names. The selection of Ewan may have been slightly influenced by my "admiration" for Ewan McGregor, I admit. Michael is both Paul and his Dad's middle name and I've always had a positive association with that name. We also contemplated Andrew after Paul's oldest brother.

And that now brings you up to date. Like I said, busy week.

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