What have you done today to make you feel proud?

Be inspired by Operation Christmas Child – the charity that asks you to fill a shoebox with toys to send off to needy children abroad. Or make a difference closer to home by giving filled shoeboxes to local homeless shelters or charities. Talk to your child about what people might need and include a drawing or a note. Visit operationchristmaschild.org.uk or simply click on the link below...

Operation Christmas Child

 

FRUSTRATION and the art of nobbling

After school today Esme was playing Frustration with a friend, Max. She had already overturned his counter (or nobbled him as we call it), but burst into tears at the prospect of being nobbled in return.

Sportsmanship is a new concept in her world and clearly she doesn't want to lose, so she decided to throw a massive wobbler and stop Max and his winning streak that way instead. Tables turned quickly however when Max also began to howl, exclaiming, 'Esme, let me nobble you back.'

Now, not only does Esme need a lesson in losing, but she also needs her half term holiday that's fast approaching. Her mother meanwhile, needs to pour herself another glass of wine.

The screaming (2) - Homeopathic remedy for baby tummy troubles

Esme Grace’s start was repeated on the diet/allergy front by her sister Sofia Faith, three years down the line. Sofia was born and the colic kicked in two days after. She also screamed non-stop, and ended up on Baby Gaviscon and the ever so expensive Neocate formula. 

The very attractive and very fabulous paediatric consultant highlighted the not so very attractive and not so very fabulous fact that to have one allergic baby was rotten luck, but to have two, was just rotten.

Before I move on from the dietary ailments of my children, I want to share with you the homeopathic remedy named COLOCYNTH. I tried all the lotions and potions in the world to ease baby number two’s tummy before having to result to prescription formula. None of them worked, but colocynth helped.

The screaming (1) - An inconsolable baby IS in pain

Esme was a delicate flower. And even a wizard cranial osteopath couldn't help when it came to her tummy. 

By now she'd had gastrointeritis which had led to rotovirus, which her consultant explained to me had left her stomach lining in shreds. Proof of this was the green diarrohea she passed for the first six months of her life. To make matters worse, she was lactose intolerant and allergic to dairy as well. 

From around the three month mark Esme stopped gaining weight, my feeding her was failing, even with my being on a dairy free diet, and it was then that she was put on to a prescription hypo-allergenic formula. In all, she didn't tolerate dairy for eighteen months. And in the meantime, the symptoms were severe colic and reflux. But silent reflux with no vomitting, where the pain just sits and burns within.

The first four months of her life, she cried every day for almost all the time. I would try to feed her and she would arch her back in agony. She was inconsolable. She wouldn't take a dummy. She was uncomfortable being held. She never napped. She just screamed. 

In the end, so did I. 

I remember the day I finally broke down, yelling while pacing, 'I never signed up for this. I don't want this. I can't do this any longer.' 

Bizarrely, that same day, her crying ceased.

  

The magic man - A post on Cranial Osteopathy

Ok, Mac is fixed again, so onwards and upwards, oh and downwards... 

For me, life with a newborn at home was very up and down. One of the ups was taking Esme to see a simply quite lovely man. No, not her consultant, but a cranial osteopath named Chris Grey.

I wasn’t sure about cranial osteopathy, but this guy came highly recommended by the maternity matron. And as far as I was concerned, anything she suggested was definitely worth checking out. 

All I knew was that in those very early days when I held Esme, she screamed. When Simon held Esme, she screamed. In fact, when anyone held Esme, she pretty much screamed. Accept for that is, Chris Grey. The cranial osteopath. Who also became known in our house as the magic man.

Digressing randomly… I wish the magic man to be my grandpop in a future life. Along with Professor Robert Winston as the other one.

Anyway, the magic man. Picture this… ever so slightly wild hair, bright corduroy trousers, a floral waistcoat, piccolo in hand, sat beneath a Bodhi tree. Throw in a soft approach, calm aura, overall scruffiness and complete befuddlement, and you pretty much have Chris Grey.

His work place named The Wishing Well, oozes serenity. Not an ounce of technology can be found within it, only endearment and humanity. Oh and a bloody great cranial osteopath. For we entered the Wishing Well totally sceptic, and stepped out totally convinced. It was just plain weird how Esme stopped crying immediately he took her. What did he do? He asked for my pregnancy history and Esme’s birth experience and then ever so gently massaged and manipulated her little head and body.  Remarkably, it helped.

For more info on this subject, there's a great book:

'Osteopathy for children', written by Elizabeth C Hayden D.O.

ISBN 0 9532542 0 8 

Chris Grey 

The Wishing Well, 
Petersfield, 
Hants 

PH: 01730 233802

 

 

 

And where we are right now

My work is going well, there is lots happening and that is all super great - accept my Mac is misbehaving. Am on a curve here and typing this post on my mobile. Curious to see if I (techy twit complete) can make it function...

Meanwhile Fia (1YO) unwell, tale includes more A&E, and inhaler, has all slowed the blog thing down but once my Mac is fixed I'll be on it again. 

Back soon...

And so... 'Down to earth with a bump' concludes

And so, these posts about my pregnancy with Esme and her birth ‘Down to earth with a bump’ conclude. For my bump was born, was home, and was now… a living nightmare. (Her constant screaming did not stop). 

Meanwhile, I cannot post tonight as I'm done in. Why ever did I suggest a jaegerbomb prior to dinner and then follow it up with copious amounts of bubbles, still prior to dinner? Oh dear. It's been a long long day. I've embeded myself in my kids for most of it, taking comfort from the delight they bring me. Now though, I need bed. Goodnight.

Down to earth with a bump (31) - All tissued out

This was the term given to when the cannula had run its course and needed to be replaced. It was also a term I came to dread. Esme had had them everywhere on her body, lasting a couple of days max, eventually all had tissued out. As I carried her towards the SCBU, I was aware that the next cannula was to be inserted in the top of her head. I walked slowly. Tears fell fast.

I had left the clear perspex cot on wheels behind this time. I wanted to hold my baby close. Matron soon put pay to that. I was stopped short in my tracks. “Where’s the cot Emma? You know Esme should always be transported in the cot to the SCBU.” I pulled my baby in tighter to me, “But I wanted to hold her this time.” She could see I was in bits and led me to a side room. Someone collected Esme as I collected myself. The Matron helped enormously; placating, reassuring, soothing.

Very quickly after, a consultant appeared. He came in the room quietly. He had a kind face and smiled with his eyes. Bald as a coot mind. I later found out he was a father of five. So it’s true then: the follically challenged are fertile men.

God he was attractive, not in a catalogue way. Perhaps it was simply a case of – I’m not sure what it is called actually, but I can liken it to Stockholm Syndrome, where the captured falls in love with the captor, a psychological phenomenon, a traumatic bonding.

Anyway, here was a man who saved Esme from having to have a cannula inserted in her head. Here was a man who thought that ten days of intravenous antibiotics were enough. Here was a man willing to override his peers’ prescription of 14 days. Here was a man that was the most human example of a doctor I’ve ever met.

I was drawn to him that very moment. And then when he discharged us later that same day, I knew I’d fallen completely.

After being discharged we took Esme to see her consultant regularly for a couple of years. I wonder if Simon noticed my skirts getting shorter in length every visit? I know the doctor never did. Shame! 

Note from author: Irrational thoughts are most definitely allowed as blog content…

What have you done today to make you feel proud? - Extra Special Care (II)

BLISS, the special care baby charity, provides vital support and care to premature and sick babies and their families across the UK. 

Any donations will be truly appreciated. Thank you.

The BLISS Parent Support Helpline is 0500 618 140 or you can visit

www.bliss.org.uk

Down to earth with a bump (30) - Extra Special Care (I)

Although she appeared to be fine, there was always the question hanging over us. And then there was another question. Do you want your baby to continue with the intravenous antibiotics or do you want to take her home and wait for signs of meningitis to appear? I think we chose to do what any new parent put in that position would chose; to carry on. 

In hindsight would I have continued with the drugs? I’m actually not sure I would have done. As a result of such strong antibiotics at birth, and so many of them, Esme was left with a weakened immune system that would see us back at hospital only two weeks after being discharged. And then for her entire first year of life we were back and forth. It was difficult. But one thing is for sure, the staff at the hospital, and especially the dedicated SCBU team, helped lessen that degree of difficulty. 

The next post is to support all their dedication and hard work.

Down to earth with a bump (29) Was it meningitis?

Was it or wasn’t it? Truth is, we’ll never know for sure as the lumbar puncture was missed. Not carried out. And it would appear that having a baby born in to the world on a Friday at nearly midnight was the reason. Communication never seems to be relayed in quite the same way as it does between staff Mon-Thurs’s. So anyway, the lumbar puncture never happened (there is a short window when it can be carried out in a newborn – between birth and 48 hours old) and obviously I was sort of happy about that. But then again not, as we never did know the full extent of what was wrong with her. To be honest, I hung on to the fact that compared to some of those babies in the SCBU, Esme quite honestly appeared to be fine.

Cake Lingerie, have your cake and eat it - Ugly no more...

While I am on the subject of ugly nursing bras, check out cakelingerie for some amazingly beautiful ones.

Down to earth with a bump (28) - Kahunas and cabbages

It has to be savoy. And it has to be kept in the fridge. But let me tell you this, if you are struggling with massive kahunas like I was, then these cabbage leaves are a most effective remedy. They help by cooling down burning boobies as well as relieving extraordinairily rock hard milk ducts. Of course seeing a green cabbage leaf poking out of a fat strapped nursing bra is not particularly sightly, but hey, you’ve just had a baby, so I very much doubt you will care about that. And besides the bras to reign these milkers in are usually so ugly that a cabbage leaf within them is hardly going to matter.

Down to earth with a bump (27) - Friends and lettuces

Simon came and went according to the hospital’s visiting hours, but always as he left, a hollowness arrived. I hated being away from him as I never knew when a doctor would appear to talk to me about my baby’s health; her future. 

It was no surprise that I found some solace by taking up with two mums on the ward. Both mums of twins born the same time as Esme, Andrea was opposite and Elinor was next to. Andrea’s baby girls were on the ward. Elinor’s baby boys were in special care. Esme was on the ward as they had run out of room in the SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit), but had to be taken for visits night and day for checks and intravenous antibiotics. Together through all the ups and downs, the three of us laughed and cried.

This particular day I write about was day three of our stay, day three being the notorious baby blues day when hormones are all over the shop. Tears one minute, joy the next, in short hysteria rules. For Elinor, Andrea and myself, day three was also side salad day:

Everyone knows that hospital food is crap. Well it was a source of great hilarity seeing the food put in front of us every meal. But on day three when Elinor’s lunch arrived, we could not stop laughing. You see, she’d ordered a side salad with her main. The tray was presented to her and immediately she started to chuckle. She gulped for breath before managing to announce, “Look at my side salad!” There, in the palm of her hand, lay one languishing limp lettuce leaf.

Bedtime musings of a 4YO

So tonight at bedtime...

Esme: 'Mummy, is pooh a bad word?'

Me: 'Not really darling, why do you ask?'

Esme: 'Well, Oscar came up to me at lunchtime and whispered 'pooh' in my ear and then ran away again.

Me: 'He's such a boy that Oscar.' (Snigger snigger).

Down to earth with a bump (26) Has my newborn baby meningitis?

In the end, because of her tiny veins, we were told they’d been unable to put the line in either hand, and so had gone in through one of Esme’s feet. Instead of being able to comfort her, I found myself given a pair of scissors to cut the left foot out of her tiny sleep suit. 

At that precise point, it all hit me. 
Like the title of this tale, I came crashing down to earth with a bump. 


It seemed so wrong to have to destroy this perfect garment. It had never been worn. And only a short time prior, as I had packed it in my hospital bag, I'd imagined my baby in it, its newborn form, so brand new, so perfect. But our reality was far from perfect. 

I came to intently dislike that flip-flop. It was always there, a clumsy reminder that all was not well. Everything about it was so unfunny. That rubber sole protected the tube that erupted out of the top of Esme’s just born foot.

It was another hour before I was able to hold Esme again. 

Eventually she came back from special care, each hand black and blue, badly bruised. In a hauntingly comical way, her foot wore, what looked like her first sandal.

Thanks to the one legged sleep suit, Esme’s newly bandaged foot with its flip-flop protector now had the room it required as I dressed her for the first time. 

Still we had no idea what lay ahead for her. All we knew was that her first lot of blood tests proved she was very sick. Esme had a high white blood cell count indicating extreme infection. They told us this was more than likely meningitis. She was to have a lumbar puncture to find out exactly what the infection was, oh and countless bloods taken. From those ever so tiny veins.

Down to earth with a bump (25) - In someone else’s hands

So here I am, unable to bond with my bump for most of its term and then holding my new baby in my arms for long enough to know that I don’t ever want her out of them again, when BANG! She’s taken away. I had only just got her. I was only just waking up to the feeling of wanting her.

Having my baby removed from me remains a blur. I was on such a high from having given birth that I went along with everything in a very surreal bubble; one that totally denied the seriousness of the situation.

I first heard her scream when the doctor tried to fit a cannula in to her tiny form. I didn’t like it at all and tears sprung to my eyes. Her veins were too delicate, and so tiny, the cannula wouldn’t go in. It couldn’t go in. Yet it had to be done. But the doctor couldn’t manage it, and it was left aside for another more senior paediatric doctor to insert. And when he did, she screamed some more.

That screaming only served to reinforce my fragile bond with her and as I wiped away the tears that fell, Simon held me and I him. We were both so helpless. And both so desperate to comfort our new baby. But as we were left standing together in the background, she was taken away to Special Care.

Down to earth with a bump (24) - When baby is removed

My waters had ruptured a week before I gave birth to Esme, and she had been inside me for all that time, exposed to infection and getting drier by the day.

The risk of infection became a reality once the placenta was born; for so too was a big bag of puss. And even with all the antibiotics I had been flushed with during the birth as a precaution for both of us, our new baby daughter needed a whole lot more, for the bag of puss indicated a serious infection. I still had absolutely no clue of any of this as I stared at the bundle of beauty within my arms.

Esme had been so shocked by her delivery that she never did cry. She was of course, perfect, all 6lbs 15 of her, (hardly an elephant). As she fed from me, minutes old, it struck me how clean she was. And how dry. But of course dry, she had been in the womb losing water. And as a consequence she was quite sick. And as a consequence, she would be removed from me after only one hour of having her.

Down to earth with a bump (23) Welcome Esme Grace

PINK OR BLUE FLAVOUR (II)

Our baby girl was born at 11:48pm on August 29, 2008.

She was named almost immediately.

Simon chose Esme. I chose Grace.

She was a part of the two of us.

This little being whom I had spent nine months trying to bond with, was placed on my jelly belly tummy with her eyes wide, staring at me. I was totally amazed, and could not stop staring right back. And it was at that magical moment, that the first love to bond her and I together began. Here was my baby. My Esme Grace. So teeny. So helpless. So dependent on me. So in need of me. Just as perhaps, I was in need of her, after all.

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

Add The Hunger Site to your Bookmarks bar. 

Did you know that for every visit and click received at thehungersite.com, the site’s sponsors will donate a 230g portion of rice to hungry people in one of 74 developing countries? Do it now please.