Two years ago today....

and now...

The Battle of Sleepy Corner by Kate

Well, no one can accuse me of being taken by surprise by the sleeplessness of new parenthood - I thoroughly expected a fair number of zzz's would elude me and have generally tried not to get stressed about getting a good deal less than my favoured seven hours of sleep in every 24. My stint of early shifts for the BBC had given me insight into sleep deprivation, including the useful knowledge that it's perfectly possible to function reasonably well even without sufficient snoozing. Of course, when I did the earlies I generally had weekends off and they let me have five weeks holiday per year. None of that comes with the Motherhood Contract.

Feeding a newborn baby is a round-the-clock deal and if you're breast-feeding, you can't easily let someone else step in for a shift. OK, you can milk yourself into a convenient bottle and get your husband to take an overnight shift, but there's no doubt that being physically on the breast is part of what soothes babies - well, our baby anyway - and allows me to get her back to sleep again when she's had her fill. It's also a time of precious closeness, so despite the fact that the precious closeness comes at a price and tends to take place in the hinterland between consciousness and unconsciousness, it's still a valuable thing.


No, the real killer is not the feeding - not even the amount of time it takes to feed (around 40 mins, usually), plus burping (5 to 10 mins) plus the nappy change (up to 20 mins because of the gas-releasing tummy massage and leg-cycling it includes) and then resettling (up to 30 mins usually). Yes, that means each feeding session tends to last around an hour and a half. No, the really tough part is Rosie's inability to sleep peacefully because of her insistent digestive system.

For one so tiny, she produces impressive quantities of intestinal gas and releasing it is clearly an uncomfortable experience that leads to a lot of grunting, straining, fidgeting and squeaking. Advice to avoid SIDS says that babies must sleep on their backs, but this is the worst position when it comes to letting rip the kind of farts required to take the pressure of her infant tummy. That means we might get half an hour of peace before the squirming and vocalising begins - and unfortunately, despite gentle efforts to assist (lifting her legs up etc), Rosie's wind situation has been responsible for waking her - and me - at indecently short intervals, almost since she was born.

So, a multi-pronged attack has been necessary. I acquired a baby sleeping bag for extra snuggliness and something she can keep on so the transition between cuddling with me and being in her bed is less severe. I got a specially-designed moulded baby sleeping cushion so Rosie can have her legs raised if she's on her back or can safely sleep on her side (which she seems to find much more comfortable). I also invested in a monitor/sensor for extra reassurance that her breathing is OK when she's on her side (it vibrates gently to stimulate breathing if no movement is detected after 15 seconds and an alarm sounds if there's still nothing after 20).
That's the physical weaponry. I've also got stuff from the pharmacy to help her digestion - basically, essence of chamomile, fennel and anise - and have been avoiding certain foods which may make my breast milk more flatulence-producing (brassicas, pulses etc.). And there are the tummy massage/leg bending moves at each nappy change (a most impressive amount of wind can be produced by those - far more satisfying than a piffly post-feed burping session).

The good news is, we've just had two nights where she managed to sleep for four hours at a stretch without waking - huzzah! The wind was still happening, but it seemed to be at a level she could cope with without actually waking. The other thing is that I seem to be able to tune out most of her mid-sleep symphony and only come to at a more wakeful melody. It's amazing what the difference between 2 and 4 hours' sleep can make to a person. I feel almost energised. Still, we may have won a skirmish or two, but I'm not going to declare victory in the overall battle. And I'm not even allowing myself to think about winning the war.

Mumsnet - by Theo

I blame Mumsnet entirely for the lack of action on this blog recently.

First it was just a case of Kate checking it for product reviews of things we thought might be useful for Rosie. Then a quick scan of the message boards to see if anyone had any good advice on things like sleeping and nappy rash. Before we knew it Kate was sucked in, joining a group of Mums-to-be also due in Feb and sharing tales of expanded waistlines, potential 'shows' and, eventually, birth stories. Now I've joined and we're booked hooked, posting our sage advice (pmsl!) on a host of topics, from living abroad to text etiquette.

So, if you've been wondering why this blog hasn't been updated recently, check out the Mumsnet forums.

Family Outing - by Theo

Finally a reasonably warm and sunny spring weekend here in Madrid!

We took advantage and went on a little family outing to the Retiro on the bus that goes from just around the corner.

A lovely day for a stroll and an al fresco snack!

Improv Everywhere - by Theo

What's this? An non-baby related post? Now we're pretty much a stay in couple, this fabulous website and their related You Tube channel have been keeping us entertained (we still haven't plugged our TV in).

Most famous for their coordinated, trouser-less annual Underground ride, this New York based group specialise in public pranks and spectacles, often featuring random strangers as the beneficiary of some seemingly spontaneous acts of kindness. Among our favourites has to be the wonderful Welcome Back, which I used as the basis for a rather fun English lesson.



We also recommend the Grand Central freeze and the excellent "I love lunch" musical. If only this kind of improv happened everywhere it would indeed be an improvement.

Making a mobile - by Theo

It was Friday, so I wasn't working, and I decided to make my daughter a mobile. I think we'd read somewhere that brightly colored mobiles are excellent for helping young babies to develop, so I figured it was worthwhile. I didn't really have a plan, so I just gathered together a load of stuff I thought would be useful.
Coat hangers, picture wire, scissors, ribbon, toothpicks, old cards, wrapping paper, present labels, cardboard, Christmas decorations, sellotape and glue - anything that could be reused. By this point I had got the idea of crossing two coat hangers to use as the main support. Then, after finding some nice gold cardboard that had come with a present for Rosie, I decided to use bits of that to hang further things. It also gave me the idea of trying to use - as much as possible - bits from the packaging of presents Rosie had received. That way the mobile really would be Rosie's.

Cards were cut up, wrapping paper raided, and cardboard shapes glued together. A snowman joined a rocking horse, a butterfly, a bunch of roses and an elephant dangling from bits of wrapping ribbon. After an interruption for dinner, the finished article was finally, delicately bound together and the resulting contraption hung above Rosie's occasionally-occupied sleeping spot.

Sure, it's not going to win any design awards but I'm pleased with it, not least because of the amount of re-using (as opposed to recycling) that went into its creation.

Naturally, I don't think Rosie has noticed it yet.

Cute baby - now tell me about your breasts... By Kate

Open appreciation of the tiny cuteness of our little daughter from total strangers - who even stop you in the street to marvel at her - is something we're rapidly getting used to here. It's very touching. And at times a tad embarrassing. The only time I've ever seen Theo experiencing acute discomfort at being the centre of attention was when we were in the supermarket with Rosie cuddled up to her daddy's chest in the sling. Suddenly he was surrounded by rapturous women and children all fascinated by Rosie's sleeping face peeking out at them. Momentarily, we were a phenomenon.

There are also certain questions that I am now well primed to answer. After the cries of "Que chicatita!" etc. this is how it goes:
1. How old is she?
2. What is her name?
3. Are you breast feeding?

Numbers 1. and 2. are probably fairly universal and I would expect to be asked the same thing by people I had only just met in the UK. Number 3, probably not. But here it seems to be a perfectly legit follow up to the first two. On our way back from a medical appointment the other day, Theo (with Rosie in the sling) and myself found ourselves flanked on the metro by (in his case) an old gentleman and (in my case) and genial middle-aged black woman. Both asked the breast feeding question and both then launched into a lively examination of the subject, including their own experiences relating to it and questions about how we were doing.

In fact breast feeding seems to have become the number one parenting issue when it comes to babies nowadays. This is the current trend - back in the seventies it was all about potty training. Not surprising really, seeing that in the last thirty years bottle feeding had virtually become the norm until a determined campaign that "breast is best" raised awareness of the eminent suitability of mother's milk to give an infant the best start in life. Well, I agree that it's the best thing, but there's no doubt, the zealousness of the campaign can lead to unbearable pressure on new mothers, especially those who don't find breast-feeding easy, for any one of a number of reasons.

My own experiences of breastfeeding have given me first hand realisation of how emotionally draining and exhausting it can be. I noted the ease by which my sister breastfed all four of her children and while I didn't assume breastfeeding would be problem-free for me, I didn't actually prepare myself for that possibility. So when my baby wasn't interested in taking my milk direct from me I was distraught. It felt like a personal rejection. Exhausted and hormonal, I cried my eyes out when my repeated efforts to put Rosie to the breast (without the intermediary of silicone nipple shields) were in vain.

In the end, that cheapest and most convenient of infant feeding modes proved to be anything but for us. We spent hundreds of euros on equipment, including bottles, steriliser, pumps and lactation aids. My initial feeding regime involved patient attempts to coax Rosie onto the breast (which would take more than an hour and a half sometimes) in order to get some milk from me, plus supplementation from bottles and (later) a tube feeder, then another half hour or so spent expressing to keep up my supply and to provide breast milk for the top-ups. This was part of a 24-hour two-and-a-half hourly feeding regime - so very little time for me to do anything in between. Thankfully, Theo took care of everything else we needed, so I could devote myself 100 per cent to feeding Rosie.

Well, after a few weeks of this, I am pleased to report that it worked. One by one, the various pieces of equipment have been stashed away and now Rosie breastfeeds as if she had never done anything else. I am relieved and pleased that we have got to this point, but I wonder how I would manage if I had this situation with a second child, for example. The luxury of a "babymoon" - taking to bed with the baby and doing almost nothing except feed - would no longer be possible, for example. No wonder so many women give up and start giving their babies bottles of formula. It's definitely the easier option. If I have ever passed judgement on mothers giving their babies bottles of formula, then I publically apologise. Breastfeeding - if you are unlucky - can be fraught with complications and that's the last thing you need when recovering from giving birth and doing your level best to nurture your newborn. But I am chuffed that I can answer "yes" when people in Spain I have never met before ask me the question.

Cats or Cars? - by Theo

What's a good analogy for having a young baby? Cats and Cars, is what I've come up with.

Babies sleep anywhere, any cradle, any chair, often in the most uncomfortable looking positions. Any stranger's lap will also do, apparently. In this sense, babies are just like cats, even to the extent of the sudden startles or strange mewlings they make while deeply asleep - extremely cute during the daytime, rather trying at night when you're trying to get some shut eye yourself. Sometimes they want to be cuddled, sometimes they don't - there's no second guessing them. They have this totally selfish, innocent integrity; they are out for no 1, and blow the rest of you. They make a mess in the house and feedings are unpredictable - after complaining about their hunger they occasionally turn their noses up at the proffered food. Like cats, they also scratch, which I hadn't realised - those little nails can wound! Biting soon to come, I imagine.

In another sense though, babies are just like cars. They need fuel, maintenance, cleaning and there's a seemingly never ending stream of paperwork to be completed. Plus there's the regular, nerve-wracking check-ups and mechanical examinations; you're pretty sure nothing is wrong, but even so you dread the worst, get seriously concerned when the senior mechanic... sorry doctor... starts pointing things out to a junior colleague and breath a huge sigh of relief when the words "all fine" are uttered. Like at Rosie's hip scan on Monday. Plus, as with car ownership, having a baby means you suddenly become fair game for everyone's two-pennies worth on how to care for it and what route to take. The amount of advice that comes the way of parents is astounding, confusing and contradictory - there is no consensus. Most of it we reject, some of it is clearly dangerous, a lot belongs to the rubbish-dump of bad medical thinking, but all of it taken together would be enough to make a less arrogant... sorry, confident, father doubt themselves and their instincts. Like the pediatrician yesterday telling us that carrying Rosie in a sling was bad for her. "How do you think parents carried babies before prams were invented?" was my riposte, to which she had no reply.

Of course, unlike cars, you can't choose your baby. Not that we'd change anything about our lovely little mini!