The Path To Saying 'I Do',

If you're someone who reads this blog regularly or even semi-regularly, firstly, hi, how are you? Thanks for coming around... but seriously, it might be worth getting ready for me bemoaning some of the issues around weddings that plague all of us, some of us, or maybe some of them just bug me and not everyone else who is part way through planning a wedding. Who knows? 

One thing I am absolutely trying to avoid is the whole thing of stamping my feet and crying 'It's my wedding day!' that seems to happen a lot these days and has created a whole new stereotype of the 'bridezilla'. (I know it's not all that new, but it seems to be becoming more and more of an issue, and once upon a time it would not have been tolerated like it seems it can be these days.) I'm definitely not one of these, it's my wedding week, month, year types; you get your special day, and I do believe that people should make an effort to make it special for you, because in theory you should only do it once, but it's a day. People try and make it more with hen does, stag does, bachelor and bachelorette parties (I know these are the same thing), wedding showers and all that, but it's just ridiculous. You get a day. And even then, be reasonable about it. For some things, it's reasonable to say, 'It's my day' and for some things, it's just not. This came up recently when we were (correction, I was) designing the wedding invites. 

First off there seems to be a shift towards the use of the phrase 'Together with their families...' at the beginning of the invite, instead of it being the names of the bride's parents, but the whole reason it was the bride's parents' names was because *traditionally* it was the parents of the bride who would pay for the wedding and then host everything. 'Together with their families' seems to muddy the waters a little, so we went for just putting our names (though keeping the tradition of the bride's name being first) invite you to be a part of their wedding day. I also had to cut out the fact that it said 'their beautiful wedding day' because it felt really twee and a bit sickening, if I'm being honest. If I could have got away with giving people a post-it with the address and time, I probably would have done that instead, but I stripped it down and tried to make it something that was pretty, somewhat elegant and just a bit more on theme for me and my partner rather than something gushy and overdone. Don't get me wrong, we can be insufferably mushy with each other and definitely are with our son, but I think that's different.

On the back, we've put in the sort of information you would 'normally' (I'm not sure what normal is in terms of a wedding, because there are so many different traditions and so much that has been added to over the years and it just feels ridiculous) go on the details card, and even that has caused issues. Why are you putting a dress code? Because a lot of our friends are neurodivergent and you can Google a dress code to give you a better idea, which can be reassuring, but you can't Google a blank space to try and figure out what to wear, can you? Why do they only accept cash at the bar? No, a cash bar is just the opposite of a free bar, because everyone can get drunk on their own dime, not ours. Sorry, but weddings are expensive enough without us paying for everyone's alcohol for six hours of a reception. Oh, and we just bought a new house and had a baby so thank the stars there actually is a wedding in the first place rather than bemoaning the lack of free alcohol, maybe?

As if all of that wasn't enough, everyone has their ideas on who should and shouldn't be invited, and sometimes that's coming from a place of who they get on with and who they don't and sometimes it comes from a place of tradition. We've very much said tradition can go in the bin, because whilst it's traditional to only have family at the ceremony and then invite friends to their 'night do' that was never what we were planning. And where do you draw the line with family? There's immediate family, and the family that you actually spend time with, and then there's everyone who you're related to but don't see, or distantly related to, and very often different bits of the family keep in touch with different bits, so you can end up with siblings where one keeps in touch with cousins and the other doesn't, but then it's the question of why you're inviting up to a certain level but then not including their kids, or not including the kids of that person. There's the big question of, is it a child free wedding? If not, does that mean you have to invite the offspring of every person you invite? If it's a pet friendly venue, do you invite literally every person and their dog? It becomes madness. I don't want the whole thing to have the same vibe as a family party I went to where so many people were asking, do you remember me? I've not seen you since you were three. I was about fourteen at this time... I still don't know who the people that were asking me that were. It would feel really weird to me to be hosting a wedding an not know the people we're inviting, or be looking back at the photos even a year from now and have someone ask 'who's that?' and neither of us know.

The big issue I had this evening though (well, the evening when I actually wrote this which was a while ago now) was how the hell do you address the invites to your parents? There seems to be no general consensus on this past that you write the envelope formally - as in Mr and Mrs Whatever-Your-Face, and then the inside you either use first names or Mum/Dad Mom/Dad whatever... I ended up calling my mum, because the last thing I wanted to do was upset her by putting her and my dad's names on it, but then if it's supposed to be from my partner and I, he doesn't call them Mum and Dad, so isn't that weird? I'd feel kind of weird writing the one to his parents addressing them as Mum and Dad, because they're not my mum and dad, but is it disrespectful for him to use their names? Honestly, I'm really not sure... That obviously then also extends to grandparents - do we use their name, or call them their grandparent name?

Bougie Babies,

I can't remember if it was just before or just after my son was born, but my mum and I were discussing changing mats and what she had when we were younger and what we have now - because these are the sort of riveting conversations that early parenthood brings you - and there's something I noticed...

The biggest thing that I have noticed when discussing with my mum and my in laws about what has changed since they had me and my partner as babies is that not everything that changes is an improvement.

The biggest thing that pointed this out was changing mats. I get that babies cry when they get put on the plastic covered mats that people are used to seeing when they're somewhere public, because they're cold, but there are a couple of good things about them, and the best thing about them is that they're so easy to clean. The other good thing is that they are a single item thing. IKEA have produced a replacement for them that is inflatable - which is good because wriggly babies don't bang their little heads on the sides of the table and hurt themselves - and covered in a towel material cover, which stops babies getting cold and means that they don't cry... AS MUCH! But the biggest issue? We own about five of these covers, because we have a boy, and boys like to pee when they're on the changing mat and it goes EVERYWHERE!, and sometimes I can't keep up with washing the covers as quickly as he pees on them or leaves poop-y bum prints on them. Maybe it's good work on the part of IKEA - making a product where I need to buy multiples of the covers for it to function as it should, because there is no way I could wash and dry just one cover every time I need it - or maybe the changed item isn't actually better than the old version, because the problem that it was trying to address isn't that big of a problem. Most babies will wake up when you change them anyway, so the mat being a little chilly isn't such a big deal. In fact, I was told by the midwives in the hospital to change the nappy before a feed because it helps to get the baby to wake up a bit and then they are a bit more alert when it comes to feeding time, which is most important if you're boob feeding, because it takes a bit more effort on the part of the baby.

Maybe the differences are more apparent to me because we have one of each, and instead of being as they were originally intended - one in the nursery and one somewhere downstairs so that I don't have to climb the stairs in order to change the little guy during the day - they are both in the nursery for reasons of that's where they ended up and then they've stayed because the table one hurts my partner's back and the over the cot one hurts mine. You'd probably expect there to be a massive height difference between the two of us from that, but there really isn't. Typically, I have the mat with the towel cover on the table I use, and I have to change the cover at least once a day, but twice is not unfamiliar and three times isn't unheard of, but sometimes mid change I have to jump the little guy, in whatever state of undress he is at the time, over to the other changing table and mat set, because the mess is just too much to deal with any other way. The great thing about the plastic covered one is it's a case of pick baby up, wipe mat down with a Dettol wipe and then some kitchen roll, and hey presto you're ready to go again, rather than pick baby up, remove cover, clean the base as above, then refit another cover - not a one handed job - and then get back to changing the baby. 

There are plenty of other products that have hit the market in the thirty something years between when we were babies and when we had our baby, and there are plenty of examples of things that make me want to bang my head against a wall, but there are also plenty of things which exist now that make my life significantly easier and I really appreciate them. Babies don't come with a manual, so anything which makes it a little easier to get them past the early stages is worth a coat of looking at.

When Things Are Tough,

 When things get difficult, I find it hard to write. It's always been the case, it probably will always be the case, and sadly it's also the case that those are the times I could really use the emotional relief I get from writing things down. Over the last few weeks I've not had the time to give myself some space to write. I've needed as much sleep as I could get and the amount of sleep I have managed to get hasn't been enough and it's definitely putting pressure on me, as a mum, as a partner, but also as a person. The little guy comes first, of course, so I've been focusing on getting his nappies washed, his bottles sterilised, and every other thing I need to do to look after him, and honestly, it's getting harder and harder.

You might think, given that it's been a good number of weeks since he arrived, surely you should be getting better at it by now? Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you?!

When we first brought him home, he was a little dream. He'd take a bottle easily, he'd keep it all down, he would sleep and nap and I'm not going to say it was easy, because it wasn't, but things seemed pretty simple, other than the slight issue of constipation which meant that we needed to attend the hospital with him over the Christmas period. Since then, he's developed reflux and is a bit colicky as well, so we've dealing with him spitting up, which means more cleaning up, more attempts at feeds, and also a lot more cuddles. Cuddles sound lovely, but it's not so much when the baby is uncomfortable and cries even when being held. 

Midwives and health visitors have been focused on whether I'm depressed, which I don't think I am, and whether I'm at risk of harming myself, which I'm not, but what I am is burnt out, and I've been on the edge of burnout for a few days. It's the lack of sleep, feeling "touched out" and just needing to put the baby down and not being able to, and the inability to do anything for self-care, because when do I have the time? Very often the suggestions are to lean on your partner, but what happens when it's happening to both of you, or when they work long hours? What can you really do when there are so many demands on both of your time?

I know this is why people say that it takes a village, but that's not very simple either. (I'd love to make a joke that we live in a village, it doesn't help, but I'm too tired. Although I guess I did it anyway...)

There's Going To Be a Wedding,

Before everything with the house took a whole hell of a lot longer than we originally thought that it would, my partner and I were thinking about getting married at the same venue we went to for our first Valentine's Day together, but by the time we moved it was far too late in the day in terms of the pregnancy, particularly given the number of issues that we had been having, so there was no guarantee I was going to be able to walk, let alone dance, and the idea of having to plan the whole thing was going to be just too much ahead of little man's arrival.

Now that the little guy is here and we're starting to have some form of routine, we have been able to think again about getting a wedding together, and after some chasing around we've finally managed to get a date into the diary with the venue that we want to use, and it looks like we are actually going to have a wedding, and it also looks like it's going to be this year, but obviously that all sounds like it's going too simply, doesn't it?

Except it's not, because I'm suddenly about twice the size I have ever been comfortable being and the problem I have where the dresses I like and admire not being a style that suits me has been amplified even further. I love a good trumpet dress (or call it a wiggle dress or a mermaid dress or whatever you want to call it) but I've always been too short, not leggy enough and now feeling like I'm two miles wide, I would look ridiculous in one and the one thing I would really like to avoid is looking ridiculous. 

My partner, who I love dearly and deeply, (obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be marrying him) doesn't want to see or know anything about the dress or any other attire until the wedding day, which is both nice and traditional, but also a giant pain in the ass. Why? Because we're not fancy event sort of people. We've not really been out together a lot to places where we needed to "dress up" so when we're talking about a wedding, even if it's only a mildly fancy one, the level of fancy where you just know that turning up in jeans is going to get you stared at for being the plonker (and as Amanda Bynes character in What A Girl Wants says, I wouldn't want to be a plonker) and you really treasure that moment when the groom turns around and sees the bride for the first time and you want it to be either a wow moment or just a look of pure love, and not, what the FFFF is she wearing, or a pained expression (27 Dresses did not make this moment, they just made it more obvious and more pressured!) I really don't know what to choose. I want something very me, obviously, but I also want something that is going to make my future husband look down the aisle and think what a lucky, lucky man he is, because I very often remember I'm lucky that he puts up with me, and I'm really lucky that we found each other. We both are, of course.

What I have managed to get out of him is that his preference would be that it's something white (or those white adjacent colours that most men will see as white even if it's called ivory, bone, champagne kissed, blush and all the other colour names that someone in the world is paid to come up with...) and I think from something else he's said he thinks it should have some form of train (which feels crazy since we're not getting married in a church, but I'll go with it, because they do look fun.) I get the impression that if it's traditional, it'll be okay, even if I'll be wearing a veil but not over my face because HOW DOES IT NOT GET STUCK IN YOUR LIPSTICK??? 

I've got the shoes already, an idea of what dress I would like in my mind, and a nail biting habit that I've never yet managed to break despite a lot of attempts and an unholy amount of effort. Sadly the stress of being in the hospital lead to another serious attack on the nails which would have been fine except the fact that little J's newborn photographs have my hands in a lot of them and whilst it might not be glaring to other people, it is to me, so I would much rather our wedding photos don't have the stand out of my nails looking like that of an anxious toddler. Some people hashtag their diet and exercise plans with Shredding for the Wedding, but I'm both not doing that in terms of weightless, but also trying for not shredding my nails in the next however many months, particularly since I know getting gel tips or false nails or whatever you call them is only possible with a certain amount of healthy nail to stick them to.

I'm sure there are about a million and one things I will stress myself out with between now and the actual event, but for now, at least it's happening and at least we have a date. 

The Endless Cycle,

This might be partly because we still have a tiny washing machine, but I feel like there hasn't been a lot of time over the past four weeks where our washing machine hasn't been running. When we made the choice to use reusable nappies we knew it was going to be something where we needed to run it a lot, but there are plenty of things I don't think we anticipated having to throw through the washing machine quite so often as we currently are doing, or perhaps it's more that I didn't anticipate washing some things as much as we are for the reasons that we are having to wash them so often.

Maybe it was a lack of faith in the reusable nappies that we chose, but I had expected to be washing his bed sheets more because he had peed on them, or perhaps because of a poonamia explosion, but most of the time we're washing them at the moment because my little windy boy is spitting up quite a lot, and somehow it doesn't seem to matter what we try to do to help him burp or what we do to help him fart (and sometimes he does not need help on that score!) he still spits up on himself or on his bedding, and then it suddenly all needs to be washed. Even when we are using the washable bed pads I got from one of those Chinese retailers that everyone makes noise about hating, the bed sheets still go over the top and then still need to be changed, but at least it means the mattress isn't left wet from spit up, whether it be on our bed or in the cot bed he doesn't even sleep in yet. Honestly he's only really going in there as a safe place he can lie down and we can then go away from, mainly because of things like washing our hands after dirty nappies.

Spit up has also been responsible for us having to wash pairs of jeans after only one wear, or jackets for the same reason, or having to change t-shirts multiple times a day, but we have been pretty lucky in that the reusable nappies have been pretty good so we're not constantly having to change his clothes because the contents of his nappy have escaped out of them. 

At the time that I am writing this, it's my first day at home without my partner. I'm trying to cope with everything I need to do for my little boy - nappy changes, bottles, bottles cleans, pumping etc - and everything I need to do for me - pumping, drinking enough water, eating enough to be able to keep producing breast milk, getting out of bed, getting dressed, everything self-care wise that seems to take a little bit of a backseat because the little lad comes first - plus everything we need to have done for the home and the family, like all of the washing, all of the hoovering and all of the other cleaning we need to do. I was trying to catch a nap in between bottles, changes and wash cycles, but that just didn't happen today and so now it's getting later in the evening I just want to go to sleep, but if I go to sleep too early I'm going to get woken up more times during the night for baby things, and the washing machine is still running anyway, so I would have to get up and sort that even if I went to sleep. 

I feel like the washing machine is currently my spirit animal, because it's just not stopping at the moment, and I feel like I'm not either.

Is It Just Me Or?,

Originally, I was just going to finish that sentence with 'is pumping really boring?' but then I realised that there were a few endings to that sentence as there have been to a number of others recently, with the next one that came to mind being, is there never a muslin around when you need one? or is everything fair game for cleaning up when you're pumping, because my God it seems like one day in at least every three or four, someone has moved the muslins that I keep by the bed for when I'm pumping, and I'm not mad about it, because I know it was either because of a boob leak or because our son was spitting up, or peeing, or in the bath or shower and getting cold, so we grabbed the closest muslin and then forgot to replace it for the other things it is needed for. Genuinely I just used one of the baby's bibs that's in our room for when he's being fed overnight in order to clean up whilst detaching from the pump and I'm not even sorry, because we just have to use what is to hand rather than leak breast milk over everything in sight or dribbling distance.

I should add another ending to that sentence could easily be, are pumping bras utter crap?? Maybe it's my fault for not stuffing breast pads into them, but it's hard enough attached and detaching from a pump without having another piece of material, some of which are actually a bit aggressive and scratchy, in my bra to contend with, especially because pumping bras seem to be either too tight with the pump in - especially if you're using a wearable - or too loose when not wearing or using a pump, or they ping back and flick your (already very sensitive) nipples, or they spring back and soak up any milk residue on your breasts and then they start smelling weird in the course of only a few hours and it's impossible to have them washed and dried for every time you need them without owning too many, and they're expensive as it is, so who can afford to do that? Maybe it's just me but they're starting to figuratively get on my tits as well as literally.

But I can definitely say is pumping really boring fits onto the end of that sentence, particularly because everything I've read about successful pumping, especially about power pumping etc, is to try and ignore the clock and ignore the amount of milk coming out, and there is only so much time you can spend massaging your own tits in the hope of helping the milk come out better or getting them to make more milk for the little human that they're trying to feed, but with a pair of bottles hanging off the front of you and a need to avoid knocking them so that they don't spill, or detach a little so they make fart noises and interrupt the suction, the options of what you can do at the same time get sort of limited. I feel like I'm spending more time on my phone than ever before, and trying to find things I can do during that which are productive, instead of descending into a number of mobile games or having another ill-fated attempt at learning a language with Duolingo. It's not that I don't think that would be productive, because it would, but I know I'm too tired to do it properly and it makes me more likely to fall asleep and then I am more likely to spill a lot of milk down myself and the bed or sofa I'm sitting on, and whilst the mess itself is frustrating, breast milk is the one milk you can cry over being spilt, because it is devastating.

I seem to get stuck in a cycle of sitting and watching the clock or thinking of all of the things I could be doing with the time instead of pumping, and I really wish I could get out of the habit, because I know that I'm doing this for the sole reason of feeding my son, and making sure he gets all of the goodness of breast milk, even when I can't quite cope with the feeling of breast feeding. I have managed to type out a few blogs on my mobile, but it's not the easiest task in the world and again, I keep falling asleep in the middle, so maybe I just need to accept it for the moment and think again of things to do when I'm getting just a little bit more sleep.

Why It's Breaks My Heart,

When my baby "gets sick" or spits up, it absolutely breaks my heart, but only some of the time... And why? Because it's not completely about him spitting up, it's about what he's spitting up.

For reasons I struggle to talk about without crying, my baby is mixed feeding, and whilst I would love to get to the stage where I can either breastfeed or pump enough for him to not need to have any formula, I also appreciate that the level of stress it was putting onto not just me, but also my partner, initially was just not worth it, so he has a couple of bottles a day of formula to make sure he's getting enough milk and also to make it so my partner can feed him without me having to be involved at all. 

When little man spits up formula, I obviously worry about why he's spitting up (did we overfeed him? did we not burp him properly? did we try too hard to burp him and we've made him spit up? you know, all that) but it's not anything like as hard as when he spits up breastmilk. With breastmilk, I obviously worry about whether something I am eating is making him feel ill, but there's also an emotional component to it where I'm not mad, but I'm frustrated and I'm upset because I know how tired and how hungry breastfeeding is making me, and I know how much effort I'm putting into pumping or trying to be awake for pumping, and it feels like some of that, or all of that, has gone to waste. It's why I don't tend to let other people feed him or burp him, because if they do it wrong and he throws up an entire feed, I'm going to get really upset, because I already feel like my body isn't making enough for him, so to lose any of it is just utterly devastating.

The first night after my son was born was pretty horrific, not because of the pain from my surgery (although that didn't help) or the emotional toll of having had to have a C section (which also didn't help) or the fact that my partner was at home and I was still stuck in the hospital with no idea when I was going to be allowed to leave (which really didn't help) but because the midwives and health care assistants that were looking after me were pretty arsey, and made me feel like I was the only new mum in the world with no idea what I was doing, and instead of feeling supported I spent the whole night feeling judged and as though I was hassling them when I was asking them a question or buzzing for them (even though they kept telling me to buzz for them if I needed anything or when I was feeding). What made it feel worse was they kept telling me that they had to observe me feeding my son, and that made it feel really invasive, even though the only way to be in a labour ward is to accept that you somewhat need to leave your dignity at the door... (Whilst we're on the subject, is it not really problematic that that seems to be the prevailing opinion, because it really feels it!)

One of the specific things that upset me was that when my son was cluster feeding, or rather trying to, and in the post surgical haze I had forgotten all about what cluster feeding was or what it looked like or anything like that, one of the midwives rather bruskly asked me if my milk had even come in whilst I was trying to breast feed, and I had no idea, because I had never done this before, and I was just trying to do what I was being told to. No one had really told me what to do if it wasn't, so I was stuck in a hospital bed feeling like the medical staff were accusing me of starving my son (she did actually say at one point he was starving, but it was in the colloquial sense as opposed to the medical sense) with no idea what I was supposed to do, so eventually I had to call my partner, because I didn't know what else I could do, and even if the suggestion was that I should get some formula to feed him, I couldn't physically leave the hospital, so I had no idea how I was supposed to do that. Ever since then, I've been really defensive about my milk supply, and I tend to get upset when we're running low on pumped milk in the fridge, and I get really anxious and upset when we use the last of it, even when I know we have formula or when I've been pumping a reasonable amount to be able to replace what we're using.

Obviously the reason I am putting myself through the stress of pumping is to be able to feed my son, so any time we're using milk to feed him it's a good thing and I'm happy I'm able to give him what he needs, but it's why any that seems wasted makes me feel prickly, whether it's what he's spit up, any where he's started a bottle and not quite finished it, so there's a tiny amount in the bottom of the bottle which can't reasonably be saved (and shouldn't be because if it's been in a bottle when he's feeding it has to be thrown out pretty quickly) or even just the drips and dregs that get wasted when I'm transferring between bottles from the pump to then be stored.

I honestly thought it was a cliche, the way people go on about breast milk, but I'm really starting to get it...