"The best thing you ever did for me was to help me take my life less seriously. It's only life after all."

This is what just came downstairs...

Sophie and Emma as "Dad and Mum"

I love having kids.

Perfectly Imperfect

Life will never be perfect again. I was fooling myself all along when I thought I could make things just right, but that is my nature. I tend to make lists and plan out how everything should go on special occasions... much like Will Ferrell's character in Elf: "First we'll make snow angels for two hours, then we'll go ice skating. Then we'll eat a whole roll of Tollhouse cookie dough as fast as we can, and then...we'll snuggle!"

But this year with three children, I have officially had to let go of my inner perfectionist. I let go of the lists of things that are supposed to happen at Christmastime and just went with the flow. This year's gingerbread house (pictured above) was entirely kid-created, apart from a little help with the assembly from our resident engineer. Honestly, I think it's the happiest-looking gingerbread house we've ever had.


Also, there just wasn't time to make the traditional Christmas cookies this year with everything else going on... so a sleeve of round butter cookies, loads of sprinkles and jimmies, and a tub of Betty Crocker frosting dyed four different colors with food coloring kept my little moppets as happy as can be for over an hour. While George and I cooked turkey and trimmings and an excellent sweet potato pie, Emma and Sophie decorated and set the dining room table for our meal. Was the silverware placed correctly on the table? Probably not, but everyone took part; no one was stressed, and the meal was delicious.

This is how Lili spent our Christmas dinner, and I think I have learned a lot from her attitude. Christmas should be a time for feeling at peace and enjoying time with family and friends, not a time for racing around like that proverbial be-headed chicken. Not all of the decorations made it out of storage. Those snow angels still haven't happened, but Christmas still came and was enjoyed by all at our house. You know I just have to quote Theodore Geisel here: "It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!"

Hope you enjoy the rest of the holiday season. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Love,

Meredith

Happy Christmas, My Beautiful Babies!!

So far our Christmas has been stress-free and perfect. Kids playing happily, Lili snoozing and cooing at us, good food... yes, just what we all needed. Santa Claus came last night and brought some fun little treats, but my girls were most excited about the gifts they had bought for me... a beautiful sterling silver Celtic necklace and matching earrings AND another beautiful necklace which depicts our new family of five locked in an embrace. Santa also brought me a new Cath Kidston bag, so I am feeling completely spoiled.

For the record, Emma and Sophie's favourite presents were: Sylvanian play sets and the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat DVD. (Maybe now they will stay off Youtube trying to watch it constantly!)

Hope you find yourself in the midst of a peaceful and joyous Christmas wherever you are this year!

Love...

Meredith

Ho ho ho-hum.

I've been resting (sort of) and recovering this week as well as making peace with giving up breast feeding. I took my last dose of antibiotics last night and am still expressing milk every five hours or so. It is my hope that I will be able to keep up my supply just enough to do that last feed with Lili when the drugs have cleared my system. I think this will make me feel a little better about it all. I have an appointment for a scan tomorrow just to be sure that all is well.

Our family is also getting back to normal a bit. Yesterday all of us went out to the cinema to see A Christmas Carol in 3D. My children were very familiar with the story, but the film itself was pretty terrifying for then. Lili was somewhat distressed by the noise, and I contemplated how much easier it was to take her to the movies when I had the milk / comfort on tap. Never mind all of that... I think it was important for us all to have a "normal" day out as a family to prove to ourselves that we could indeed be normal again after all of this past week's drama. After the movie we queued up to see Father Christmas, who was absolutely brilliant. I didn't hesitate once handing my sleeping little elf over to him. She almost woke up for a visit, but it turned out only to be a big stretch; then she drifted back off to sleep in his arms. As expected Sophie and Emma said they didn't need anything but just wanted Santa to bring some surprises. (This makes life so much easier for Santa!)

This morning we woke up to find a snow-covered Cardiff. The kids still had to go to school though. Ho -hum. It just seems wrong to be in school this week especially when there is snow on the ground. On the bright side, maybe I can catch a little nap while they are off. Bottle feeding is completely exhausting!

Happy Winter Solstice to all!

Don't Stop Believin'!!

I am smiling again today. I am coming to terms with my grief and getting a grip on my hormones. Today the health visitor called me and said, "You know when you have to stop nursing suddenly, your hormone levels drop. You need to be taking your fish oil." Yes, yesterday I started to work out the fact that hormones were at play. I know it is normal to be sad when in my situation, but I was crying bucket loads of tears.

So... I have now resumed the fish oil that had been forgotten in the midst of all of this madness and other medications. I have also added B-complex and have been turning on my SAD lamp in the mornings. Not least of all, I finally got to watch the sneak peek of Glee last night here in the UK, and that perked me up instantly and took me back to my own high school show choir days. Today Emma has been off school with a horrible case of tonsillitis. (Seriously, you should see this girl's tonsils!) We had a really nice day together with Lili. We listened to lots of music (including Journey's Greatest Hits). We danced, we sang, and I started to smile again.

Sophie was back at school today. She got to visit Santa in his toy mine at the Rhondda Heritage Park. She says she had a brilliant day, even though it wasn't the real Santa. (She could just tell by his face.) She sat with Rocco on the bus, and when I asked about Rocco, she said, "You know; he's the one with the orange coat. He's a lot like me because we both like to laugh a lot." She also got a Christmas card covered in kisses from her new love interest, Dmitry. She still fancies Harry L. and has also added Jack W. to her list of boy toys. What a girl!

While Emma was home with me today, we discussed many important things. One topic which was brought up by Emma was the fact that she didn't think it was very healthy OR very sensible for Santa Claus to be eating mince pies and cookies at every single house he visits. I think Santa might be getting carrots and celery at our house this year. I also realized today, that she has been moving the three wise men a tiny bit closer to the nativity set each day. The baby Jesus has been moved into a plant pot and will join the scene on Christmas morning. Clever girl.

When Sophie got home from school, we carried on with singing and dancing. We decided that Here Come the Girls by Ernie K. Doe is our new theme song. We also downloaded X-Factor winner, Joe McElderry's new single, per Sophie's request. Maybe he will beat out Rage Against the Machine for Christmas Number One? Only nine more sleeps according to the Cadbury's chocolate Advent calendar!

Boobie Update: When I took Emma in to the doctor this morning, Dr. Morris (whom my husband calls hot lady doctor - because she is) had another feel, and said she thought it had definitely improved since yesterday. She is still trying to book me in for a scan at any hospital that will take me, and shares my frustration with that situation, but it does seem that things are improving and definitely not getting worse. Hopefully I will get through this all with nothing more than nuclear strength antibiotics. Thanks again for all of the encouragement, commiserations and prayers!!

Mourning is a Process...

The above picture of Grandma Sophia bottle feeding Lili absolutely breaks my heart (although Sophie loved the opportunity to feed her baby sister). This weekend has been a rough and emotional one for me. On Friday evening, just after the doctor's office closed (of course), I started experiencing pain in the previously dubbed "good boob." An hour or so later, flu-like symptoms hit me like a freight train. I was shivering uncontrollably and cursing the carrots and hummus I had eaten earlier as they returned... Hmmm... Ever tried to nurse a baby while throwing up? Looking back on it, that was pretty impressive. I was 99% sure I had mastitis. My "bosom buddy" Sonia drove me over to the Heath hospital where we saw a friend of ours who was the GP on call that evening. She confirmed that it looked and sounded like mastitis and gave me another round of antibiotics to start taking immediately.

Saturday wasn't any better. Because of the infection my milk supply was really low and Lili cried every time I put her to my breast. George finally defrosted my last bag of expressed breast milk and gave her her first bottle. She devoured it greedily, and my heart began to break just a little. I was no longer able to provide her with what she needed, and I still felt like hell. By the evening, my breast was feeling worse and starting to look a little too familiar. It looked to me like the early stages of another abscess, and I began to panic.

Sunday morning we called the after hours service, and the nurse on call sent us to a lovely old building in town called the Cardiff Royal Infirmary. I saw a doctor there who took a look at me and declared that, yes, it did look like ANOTHER abscess. An expression of complete dread must have come over me since, when she looked at my face, her demeanor immediately changed from clinical to sympathetic, "Oh, I am so sorry." she said. I proudly held it together until we got back in the car when the tears began to leap down my cheeks. The doctor in the infirmary had booked me into the Surgical Assessment Unit at the Heath hospital, so we were off to another hospital... again.

And so my mourning began. I realized that I had probably breastfed Lili for the last time and not even known it. When we arrived at the Heath, I was completely tearful every time one of the poor student nurses came in to talk to me. George and the big kids went off to buy formula, and Sophie asked, "What's formula??" That sent me over the edge again. I was suddenly no longer a breast feeding mom. While they were gone, I took Lili into one of the triage rooms and used my breast pump to express what little milk I had while I sobbed and sobbed. I cannot explain why nursing is such an emotional thing. I never would have understood it if I hadn't experienced it myself. I know that breast milk is the best thing for my baby, but I also know that 'formula isn't poison.' I think I will mostly miss the closeness that I shared with my breastfed baby. I will selfishly miss the fact that it was something that only I could give her, and I will undoubtedly miss the convenience of it all. Last night we were sterilizing bottles and teats and mixing formula again (as I did with Emma for most of her baby-hood). That is going to get old fast.

Back at the Heath, I finally saw a surgeon at around 5pm. He was very nice and sympathetic since his wife (the radiologist who aspirated my first abscess-- cue the "It's a Small World" music) also had to give up breastfeeding for medical reasons. He congratulated me for making it two and a half months and for persevering after a traumatic breast surgery, but said that it was probably time to let it go. After examining me, he concurred that what I had was a "brewing abscess" rather than a full-blown abscess. He couldn't tell for sure without an ultrasound, and apparently it is impossible to get one of those on a Sunday evening in Cardiff. It was his hope, however, that if we hit it hard with antibiotics, we could knock it out and avoid more horrible medical procedures. Of course, I am all for that. The heavy duty meds would, however, make my milk unsuitable for Lili.

So... did I cry last night after I expressed milk and poured it down the sink? You bet your granny's knickers I did. One would have thought I'd be all cried out by now, but my tears keep coming.

I received one and a half rounds of intravenous antibiotics in hospital last night before returning home. (The second round had to be stopped half way through since it apparently didn't agree with me, and I felt as though fire were being sent through my veins.) Lili is doing fine and seems as happy as ever with the bottles of formula. I am still 'pumping and dumping' milk until the infection goes away, and I am taking two different kinds of antibiotics as home. The meds have wreaked havok on my stomach, but if they allow me to avoid surgery, I can cope. Emma and Sophie are both off school sick today. Emma is especially miserable since she is missing a class field trip; bless her heart. This morning all four of us girls were curled up in my bed like a miserable motley crew, but honestly it's a little bit nice to have everybody home and hunkered down today. Even George has taken the day off work to commiserate.

I appreciate all of the well wishes and words of encouragement. I truly do. They have warmed my heart and brought on fresh tears of gratitude. I know that I will, of course, be okay, but I am in mourning at the moment. I am so grateful for the fact that my husband appreciates my grief even if he doesn't understand it. What a blessed person am I.

Hopefully I will be back to writing about more cheerful topics again soon. I should be back in to see my "old" breast surgeon again sometime this week. Once again, I am ever so hopeful that this infection will have sorted itself out, and he will send me off on my way. How great would that be? Prayers, once again, are appreciated!

"A Star Kept Shining!"

Yesterday was a good day to be a mom. I got to go to two Christmas concerts which featured my children singing lovely songs about stars and angels and the good news of Christmas. In the morning Lili and I went to the Radyr Primary Junior's concert. I sat next to my good friend Sonia, and as we waited for the show to start, we cheekily discussed how Gok Wan might improve on the fashion choices of some of the staff and teachers. 'Tis the season to be catty, I suppose. (Seriously though, Gok could have a field day.)

...And then the show began. After the Year Sixes performed (not once, but twice) a tedious yet imaginative version of The 12 Days of Christmas (which included "9 'Jedwards' Dancing"), the Year Fives shared a fantastic medley of songs from the musical Oliver! Then it was finally time for the traditional Christmas nativity musical put on by Years 3 and 4. The music was really lovely. Dear Emma sang her little heart out and gazed lovingly at her mother for almost the entire show. (I think the loving gazes may have actually been fixed on her baby sister, but I am still claiming them.)

In the afternoon, we trekked back out in the rain to see the Infants' concert, and we were so impressed with our Sophia. She had two speaking parts which were delivered with great expression and confidence, and she also had an angelic solo. Her singing was so clear and beautiful. I got completely choked up watching her, and I heard several "Ahhh"s from others in the audience when her song was finished. Perhaps she will follow in her mother's footsteps?? I certainly had a love of singing when I was her age, but I didn't have to confidence to give it a go publicly until I was a bit older.

(Below, Sophie is pictured looking out into the audience at baby Lili after the show.)

The Lili Monster certainly gathered her fair share of the attention while we were out as well. Even the school's headmaster asked if she could have a cwtch, and don't even get me started on the response she elicited from all of the eleven year old girls in Year 6! I can't say that I blame any of them. She is downright adorable. We are enjoying her more and more since just in the last couple of weeks, she has started to become a little character with her own charming personality. She smiles. She coos. She shrieks with delight. And she has us ALL wrapped around her tiny finger. Love love love LILI!!

George snapped the above photo as we were walking back to the car after Sophie's concert yesterday. We were setting off all of the cuteness-alarms in Radyr.

Today is being spent catching up on all of our laundry. Five people generate a LOT of dirty laundry! It has gotten to the point that I am going through the kids' baskets, giving things a sniff, and tossing them back to the girls saying, "You can totally wear this AT LEAST one more time!!" And by the way, it is definitely more eco-friendly to do less laundry. I am trying to do my part!

BLISS...

This is what I get to snuggle up with today...

"Where there is faith, there is love.

Where there is love, there is peace.

Where there is peace, there is God.

Where there is God, there is BLISS."

--Sri Sathya Sai Baba

Hope you find a bit of bliss today wherever you are.

My Little Conversation Piece

When I go back and visit the States, as I recover from the reverse culture shock that ensues upon seeing scads of superstores and restaurants lining the sides of every major road, I am always struck by how friendly the complete strangers in these places are. I never really appreciated it when I lived in North Carolina, but the place is chock full of outgoing, friendly folks. Back in Hick'rey, you'd think nothing of asking a stranger in the grocery store if they'd tried the new Sara Lee frozen Key Lime pie on aisle 7. You'd absolutely expect the guy with "Ricky" stitched on the front of his shirt to hold the door for you as you exited the store with a load of shopping bags. (He might even help you to your car, especially if you were pregnant or had children, and then he'd say, "Have a nice day, ma'am," and he would actually mean it.) You would totally strike up a conversation with that lady in the waiting room at the dentist office when you noticed she was reading that Oprah's book club novel you had just finished. Okay... so maybe I am romanticizing a bit. I know that not every Dennis or Ricky has such chivalrous manners, but a girl is allowed to wax sentimental at Christmastime, right?

The point is, things are not the same her in Great Britain. Brits are just a bit more reserved typically. Many find our American "Have a nice day" to be completely daft and insincere, and some may even roll their eyes at you if you have an American accent and are overheard describing something as "cute." But I have now given birth to the ultimate antidote to British stand-offishness, and her name is Lilianna Gwyneth. Since I have been out and about with my little one, I have had countless conversations with perfect strangers who just cannot resist saying, "Ohhh, isn't she lovely!" or asking, "What do you call her?" and "How big was she born?" Just now in the doctors' office, I met two lovely ladies, and I now know all about their children or grandchildren as well as what they are cooking for Christmas dinner. I feel like I'm back in Hick'rey, y'all, and I love it! Babies really ARE such a nice way to start people, and mine has the power to charm even the most reserved of characters... even when she is sound asleep.

Hello, My Name Is Nosy Parker.

What's going on?

Who Loves You, Baby?

Well, if your name is Lilianna Carson, then the answer to that question is: EVERYBODY!! What a lucky little girl! We have all fallen head over heels for her. Today my brother in law requested a photo of all three children, and I realized that due to all of my drama, there really weren't any decent photos of all three children. So, when everyone was in a fairly civilized mood right after school, I managed to capture a few pics.
Lili has also managed to catch her first cold, and she is completely pitiful. 'Tis the season, I suppose. Speaking of the season, Emma and Sophie are gearing up for their school Christmas concerts. Both are playing angels, and I have been busy trying to sort out their costumes. They have also both been rather secretive about their impending performances. Sophie did inform me today that three wise men brought Jesus gifts of "gold, insects and myrrh," so it sounds like she is right on track.

Now I am off to help Lili cope with the abundance of snot she is suddenly producing. Bless her poor heart.

Bright as a Button!

Not much to write about today; just thought I'd post a semi-smiley photo of the Lili monster. For a few weeks it seemed I had her internal clock sorted, but for the past week, she's been back to her old, wicked, Carson ways... up at all hours of the night. Mind you, she isn't unpleasant, just awake and eager for company. Last night at around midnight I took her downstairs to George and handed her (wide awake and grinning) over to him: "Here, you two deserve each other!" I said.

Three hours later, bless his heart, George stumbled into our bedroom and mumbled, "I have to go to sleep now. Can you take her back?" I hadn't meant for him to stay up half the night with her, but I must say, I think that was the best three hours of sleep I've ever had. Now... looking ahead to tonight...perhaps things will be better?? She is two months old today. High time she learned to sleep at night, I say.

Getting Culture From Something Other Than Yogurt

Lili has taken some big steps out in the world this weekend! On Friday she went with George and me to the cinema for the first time in her life. We thoroughly enjoyed our outing with vampires and werewolves while Lili tuned it all out and had a nice, long nap. Then last night, all four of us Carson girls went to see our lone Carson dude on stage in the charming seasonal comedy, My Three Angels. We all enjoyed our night out (although Sophie is a complete grizzly bear today since we didn't get home until after 11 pm). We were very proud of George who seemed to be having the time of his life up on stage again.


During the show our little Nosy Parker was bright as a button the entire time. Any time she threatened to kick up a fuss, I quickly shoved her up my blouse where she seemed to be perfectly happy. Everyone complimented her afterwards on her excellent behavior. (The other two girls were well-mannered little ladies too, by the way.) Keeping Miss Lili-pie content throughout the entire show was not a completely easy feat, so I wasn't able to take any photographs during the show. I was, however, very able to take a picture of the fantastic cake that George made for the after-show party....


This is "Adolphe the snake," who played a very important role in the show even though he was never actually seen by the audience. Is it wrong that I am more impressed with George's baking than his acting?? I am now wondering why I am always the one who makes our kids' birthday cakes. He is brilliant!!

Our adopted family, the Collinses, also joined us in the audience last night. I really try not to be jealous of the fact that our baby, to whom I devote nearly all of my energy, seems to love the Collinses more than she loves me. Who can blame her, I suppose? They are downright fantastic. Anytime we are in the presence of Michael or Sonia, Lili cannot take her eyes off of them! Michael concludes that she has exquisite taste at a very young age.

And now... we are taking a breather. There are no play rehearsals or any other commitments today. The Christmas decorations are bound to make their way down from the attic soon enough, but for now, we are just enjoying a few moments of peace. Here's wishing you some peaceful moments of your own before the start of a new week...

My Three Angels

George's dramatic debut in Wales happens tomorrow night. He is starring in the Radyr Drama Society's production of My Three Angels. Yes, I think he was completely mad to take this on when we were expecting a new baby, but I think it has been a nice outlet for him during this stressful time. Speaking of madness, I am taking all three girls to see the show on Saturday night! God, be with me!

Above: George (Jules), Martin (Joseph), and Jim (Alfred), three convicts who are overcome with the Christmas spirit

What I've Learned About Gratitude...

Blessed be Your name in the land that is plentiful, where the streams of abundance flow, blessed be Your name.

And blessed be Your name when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, blessed be Your name.

Every blessing You pour out, I'll turn back to praise. When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say...

Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be Your name. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be Your glorious name...

I have often sung along with these lyrics in church but wondered if I really meant it. Would I really still be able to "praise" God in the really bad times? As a young woman, I spent a good bit of time feeling quite angry with God about my situation. Looking back on it now, I realize that my situation then was all to do with my own attitude. These days I appreciate how truly fortunate I am when so many others in the world are struggling and suffering, but it is easy to be grateful when the fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high.

Recently God/ life handed me the opportunity to test myself. I won't compare my suffering to the suffering of others. My life was never in danger. I had access to superb medical care. My baby is strong and healthy. I am supremely grateful for all of these things, but I did face some challenges, and I did endure a good bit of pain, more than I have ever experienced before. I am pleased and relieved to say that I have come through the other side blessing God's name all the more. And trudging through the dark days allowing myself to feel God's love rather than feeling angry with God made a huge difference.

I have even reached the point at which I can say that I am grateful for the experience and the challenge because I have gained so much more than I have lost.

In the last two months, I have had two surgeries which were both classed as "emergencies." (This makes it all sound very dramatic, doesn't it?) Throughout my recovery I have been on the receiving end of so much love and care. I have never been so helpless, but being in this state forced me to allow others to nurture and care for me, and this was a gift. I now have a full supply of empathy for anyone else who undergoes any kind of surgery.

I have also gained a sense of awe and empowerment as I have felt my body heal. How amazing it is that I have regrown all of this new, healthy tissue where there was once a hole 3-4 centimetres deep! As one of my former 4th grade students would say, "When God made me, He didn't make no junk!" I am amazing! I have also experienced the effects of a healthy diet and good self-care. I am really looking forward to seeing the discouraging surgeon back in the hospital tomorrow. He is the one who told me that the wound would take months to heal if I carried on breastfeeding. Well... here we are four weeks later... Lili has had nothing but my breast milk, and as of today, my wound is no longer deep enough to require packing with Kaltostat! I plan to be more than a little smug when we meet again tomorrow.

And finally, now that I am feeling better, I truly appreciate feeling well, and I have a renewed desire to make the most of life. So, yes, Thanksgiving is a big deal for me this year. I am grateful for ALL of the good things I have going for me, and I am thankful for the challenges that life has thrown my way as well.

"To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant; to enact gratitude is generous and noble; but to live gratitude is to touch heaven." -- Johannes Gaertner

Early Thanksgiving Again!

We are celebrating Thanksgiving early again this year. As I type I am feeding Lili her appetizer. Our guests are expected in half an hour, and, as usual, George has just gone upstairs to get a shower.

Thanksgiving is a pretty exciting day. This morning Sophie bounded into my bedroom (where I was feeding Lili her early breakfast), and gave me a card she had made. The front said: To Mom, Happy Thanksgiving. Inside was a picture of Lili, and she had written, "Thank you for making this baby." I think we are all feeling especially thankful for Lili this year and for the fact that I am recovering well from all of my drama!

Once again this year our Thanksgiving celebration has coincided with the Radyr Parish's Christmas Fayre, so I took ALL of the girls over to the church this morning for some "fun and fellowship." Lili slept through the entire affair in my front carrier. Emma & Sophie had their faces painted to look like Snow Queens...

Above... This was my view of Lili all morning.

I was also happy to run into the ever-fabulous Sonia and to look human enough myself to pose for a photograph with her.

Look Out, Stella, I'm Gainin' on Ya!

Even though the forecast called for rain and gale force winds, it has turned out to be an absolutely beautiful day. So after having my wound packed fiercely by the very gentle-looking Nurse Michelle at my local GP, Lili and I along with my adventurous friend Sonia hit the Taff Trail for some exercise, fresh air and sunshine. It was an especially good work out for me since I had Lili strapped to my chest in the 'Snugli' carrier. The River Taff was raging due to our recent deluge; the trail was completely mucky, and I was in high spirits, filling my five senses with life once again! Afterwards Lili was full of smiles so the fresh air must have done her good too.

Now I am off to make either carrot cake or cranberry & white chocolate chunk cookies in anticipation of our Thanksgiving feast tomorrow!

Just Like Stella

... I'm starting to get my groove back. I haven't even thought about blogging this week because I have been too busy feeling human again!! Cooking meals and doing laundry has never felt so good. Obviously I am still up with Lil several times in the night, but she seems to settle down quickly after each feed. Today she has been positively slumberous, so I hope she won't make up for lost time at 3 am... yes, hopefully we are past all of that...touch wood.

I have been visiting the practice nurses at my local GP to have my wound cared for this week, and they have been very encouraging, even saying that after this week the wound will likely no longer need daily dressing. That's what I'm talking about, Mr. Nasty-Discouraging-Breast-Consultant! (Prayer, positive thinking and healthy eating, thank you very much!) And since I know you've been wondering... with the wound healing up so nicely, milk is no longer leaking out of it. This is a huge improvement in terms of my comfort and mobility. My left breast actually seems to be producing only the tiniest quantities of milk and is now less than half the size of its next door neighbor. Too much information? Well, let's change the subject then....

George is starring in a local dramatic production of a show called My Three Angels which opens on Thursday the 26th, our American Thanksgiving Day. We were in a similar situation last year when I was in the same drama troupe's production of A Christmas Carol, so we are, once again, celebrating Thanksgiving early this weekend. I was told today that there is currently a turkey shortage in Britain. I'm not sure why there is a shortage of turkeys, but this probably explains why George had to buy two smaller birds rather than one impressive-looking large one. Never mind, we still have ever so much to be thankful for, and we will be celebrating this weekend by consuming vast quantities with good friends.

Looking ahead with hope...

Sophie's Magic Fingers

It figures that the first week I am well enough to get out of the house a bit, the Welsh weather returns. The majority of this week has been cold, very rainy and windy. Yes, I am complaining and grouchy. I am sore and awkward and have been hauling a screaming baby in and out of the car in rubbish weather for the last two days... and I don't like it. Lili has also been a very unhappy bunny these last few days...which brings me to the topic of Sophie's magic fingers as pictured below....




Sophie, of course, is the one who decided that her own fingers were magical, and she is convinced that they can stop any baby from crying. The magic fingers do seem to work temporarily, and honestly even few seconds of respite from screaming and crying is always welcome. Oh, how I admire that Sophie-confidence and wish I had some magical body parts myself these days!!

What I do have is a wound that is healing very well according to the district nurses who visit me each day. They seem to always be very pleased with my progress. The wound that started out at 3+ cm depth now is only about 1 cm deep, so this is encouraging. I know I should be thrilled, but I am growing quite weary of it all. I am just so ready to be normal and out of discomfort. I know I will get there one day, and for that I am genuinely grateful.

In other news... apparently Lili has not changed her feelings about bath time...

I didn't even know that Sophie had taken the above picture of Lili getting out of the bath earlier this week. She obviously didn't enjoy her bath even though I used the most gorgeous-smelling shampoo on her in hopes of washing all of the red and silver glitter out of her hair. (This is what you get when you have two older sisters. I have had a glittery disco-baby all week!) Actually the expression captured in the photo above sums up the mood Lili has been in for the last few days... pretty dismal. What gives, Lil? I think we all need some sunshine!

Enjoy the weekend, everyone!

Ice Cube Said It Best...

Today was a good day. There is a superstitious part of me that hated typing that last statement since the last time I did, it all went pear-shaped shortly thereafter. But I say pooh-pooh to superstition; it WAS a good day.

Lili allowed me five very broken and interrupted hours of sleep last night, and that is an improvement. This morning after breakfast, Lili gave Sophie the biggest grin ever, and Sophie was thrilled that she had elicited such a fabulous response from her "so adorable baby sister." I actually took a shower and washed my hair (for the first time in four days--Ew.) The district nurse visited and gave me a positive report about the healing progress of my wound. It will still have to be packed daily for a few more weeks, but there is no infection and all seems to be healing very well. My friend Sonia and I took Lili out for the first time ever in her pram. She loved the movement and the cool, fresh air and subsequently took a fantastic long nap allowing me to eat lunch without having to simultaneously bounce a baby. (Told you it was a good day!)

A bit later we went to Lili's six week check at the doctor's office, and I actually drove us there myself. Hallelujah! Lili is now a strapping 8 1/2 pounds, being fed solely on milk from my one healthy breast. After our doctor's visit Lili and I collected Emma and Sophie from school for the first time since she was born. Everyone was excited to see us, but especially our big girls.

Lili has been in good spirits for most of the day. I think it is good for both of us to get out and have some fresh air and a change of scenery. (Maybe she'll sleep a bit better tonight as a result of all of our activity today?? One can hope!)

All of us are enjoying our new little one as she gets a bit older. She is so alert and looks right into our faces now as we chat with her. Now if I can only get her to sleep during those dark hours at night...

Oh No! Another Carson!!

It's a good thing she's this cute...

Nosy Parker has kept me up for what feels like most of the night for the last three nights now. She isn't crying or upset... or even hungry... just awake... and nosy. It occurred to me this morning that I have now weaned off all of my pain killers, so now that she is no longer getting codeine-laced breast milk, it would make sense that she'd be a bit more awake and alert. Unfortunately I do not feel at all in the mood to socialize with her at 2 am. I am really hoping that she will fall into a normal, human sleep pattern soon, but I am afraid I may have another Carson vampire on my hands. Heaven help me!

She's Nocturnal

My three little ladies in their pajamas this morning...

Serves me right for bragging about how good I was feeling a couple of days ago... for the past two nights, Miss Nosy Parker has decided that it's party time in the middle of the night. If you want to spend some quality time with Lili, drop by around 3 am. I blame our completely unscheduled week in the hospital. Regardless of what is to blame, I am exhausted. Sophie thinks it's quite funny that "she's nocturnal." I am unable to find the humor at the moment.

Ah well... this too shall pass, and we did indeed know what we were getting ourselves into the third time around. Here's hoping for a bit more sleep in the wee hours tonight!

Each Day Gets Better...

Today was better than yesterday, and with any luck, tomorrow will be a bit better than today. I started my day on the receiving end of a few Lili smiles. What could be better? She and I also managed to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep in the night. The baby nappy taped under my bra did the trick, so for the first time since my surgery I wasn't soaked when I woke up. Hooray! I am starting to feel genuinely human again. "100%" and "normal" are goals reserved for the future, but for today, I am thrilled with the improvements I am experiencing.

George took this photo of Lili and me this afternoon.

• We are standing in front of our new living room wall colour: Intense Truffle.
• No, I'm not sure what the expression on Lili's face is all about. Give her a break. She's only a month old. She is still working on her look. ("Baby Blue Steel"?)
• Miss Lili is indeed growing. The nurses weighed her a week ago when I was in the hospital, and she tipped the scales at just over 8 pounds.
• As you can see, as of today, I am able to gingerly hold her over the right side of my chest again. This is a triumph and makes both of us girls extremely happy!
  

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly...

...and it's mostly good. Each day I am feeling a tiny bit better. Each day when the district nurses come to change my wound dressing, they say it looks good and clean. Each day I honestly feel more grateful than anything else. I am so grateful to have a healthy, happy, (spoiled rotten) baby. Having a baby to take care of means there is no time to wallow and feel sorry for myself. I have had a few dark moments, but I have cried them out and then gotten back to life. I am also grateful that things are not worse. My issues, although painful and thoroughly inconvenient, are not life threatening. I have had truly excellent medical care that has all been completely free. (You will never hear me preaching about the evils of 'socialized medicine'. My care has been fantastic, and it is the same care that a prince or a pauper would have received. And that is all I shall say about that.) I truly do have so very much to be thankful for. I thought about this today when I put our little Pilgrim and Indian figures out on the mantel. So that is the 'good'.

The bad? Well, I am a bit frustrated about the fact that I have basically been house bound or in hospital for the last five weeks. In my mind I am ready to re-join the rest of the world, but my body still very much needs to rest, recover and rebuild. It is already November, and I feel as though I completely missed October. On the days that I looked out the window, it appeared as though October was a nice month: mostly crisp and sunny. Oh well. Today my friend Sonia helped me pack up Halloween and pull out Thanksgiving. It is time to move on.

And the ugly... I have a big, deep hole in my boob. This is problematic for a few reasons. The first and most obvious reason is that it is ever so painful and needs to be re-packed and dressed by a visiting nurse daily. (Thank God for the district nurses though. They are brilliant and come right to my door every morning.) My broken boob definitely restricts what I can do. I am awkward. I cannot take my baby up and down the stairs and actually find it difficult to lift and carry her at all. I wish I could hold her against my chest to comfort her as this seems to be her preferred position, but this is not possible right now either. So I am creative and awkward... aren't those qualities the mother(s) of invention?

Here is the ugliest bit of all. Turn away now if you can't bear it.... I am still breastfeeding but only on the right side. Nursing on the left would be far to painful and would most likely complicate the healing of the wound even further. Although I am not feeding on the left side, this does not mean that my brain has told the left side to stop producing milk. And since milk ducts were obviously severed during the surgery, every time I nurse Lili on the opposite side, milk pours out of the wound on my left breast. When I wake up in the morning, my wound dressings, night gown and pillows are soaked with stale breast milk. (I warned you, didn't I?) I keep hoping that the milk production on the left side will taper off, but that doesn't seem to be happening. I am also curious about what will happen with those severed ducts when the wound actually heals. Any physiology experts out there have an answer? Today I have put on a bra, and I have half of a baby nappy (diaper) stuffed on top of my wound dressing in hopes that this will keep me from soaking everything in sight today. Progress report soon...

Until then I will continue to count my blessings. What else can I do? I am a very blessed lady.

Tricky Teat

No, I didn't expect to be in the hospital recovering from surgery on Halloween, but that's just where I was. Above Lili and I are pictured all dressed up for Halloween. In case you cannot tell, she was a gorgeous little sleeping pumpkin. I was obviously a scary, naked lady who hadn't showered in a week... wait, that wasn't a costume unfortunately.

So to re-cap... my hopeful attitude after last Monday's boob eruption was not rewarded with a miraculous recovery. Instead when we returned to hospital on Wednesday, Dr Eleri stabbed me with a giant needle a couple of times for posterity, then declared that that obviously wasn't doing the trick. I was going to need another surgery... just when things were starting to get back to normal after my c-section. Boo-hoo.

After being starved for several hours (that's the medical term, not just my being overly dramatic), I was taken into the operating theatre on Wednesday evening. Prior to the surgery, I met my surgeon, Nathan. I'm sure he has a surname, but he only introduced himself as Nathan (which incidentally would have been Lili's name had she been a boy). I have to admit that Nathan was absolutely dreamy. He was so calming and pleasant that one would feel reassured if the worst news in the world were delivered in his soft, soothing voice. Just lovely. He apologised in advance for the scar he would leave, but I reassured him that I only wanted relief and that my boobs really weren't my best feature anyway. George ever so helpfully quipped (after the fact), "It's not like painting a moustache on the Mona Lisa." Nice, right?

After the surgery I was in a lot of pain. No need to write about it really, but it obviously wasn't nice. The morphine they gave me also made me sick and extremely itchy. I don't recommend the morphine. My stay in the hospital was so lengthy because I just couldn't get on top of the pain. For the first couple of days post-surgically, I couldn't even get out of bed. Who would have thought such excruciating pain could radiate from such a small breast? I described the pain (upon trying to stand upright) as scorching hot and bright yellow. That's the best I can do.

The surgeons all told me to just remain supine until the inflammation abated, and I was quite content to follow doctor's orders, but on the evening of the second day, I had a proper midwife intervention. Sian, Louise and Julie, my three angels, came in to give me a dose of tough love. "Right," Julie said trilling her r's, "We're gonna dose you up with pain killers and get you out of this bed. I don't care what the doctors say. We're not having you develop a blood clot in your legs..." And that's just what those three did. "You can curse me when I leave the room if you want," said Julie, "But I would be doing the very same thing if you were my own daughter."

I got up, cheered on my Louise who kept shouting, "Come on now, cup your boob!! Cup your boob! Give it some support!" I got up, and I felt euphoric... and a wee bit shaky. Funny how such a small accomplishment as standing and taking a few steps turned into such a huge victory there in that ugly peach colored hospital room. I was on my feet! Hooray.

I still wasn't ready to come home and give up the nurse call button and the hospital-grade pain killers. Because, as a breastfeeding mother, I had to keep Lili in the room with me at all times, I was given a bed on the post-natal ward rather than the surgical ward, and while I was there, those midwives became my family. I cannot describe how wonderful their care was. They did all of the things for me that I couldn't do for myself... and that amounted to nearly everything.

I haven't yet mentioned Lili, who honestly has probably benefited from all of this drama. My friend Lowri, who is a midwife at Royal Glam Hospital helped look after me one day and remarked, "What a lucky girl! How many third babies get to have all this uninterrupted one-on-one time with their mums?" This is true... Six days in hospital with no television or other distractions meant that nearly all of my attention was focused on that gorgeous little girl. Lili didn't suffer a bit, and honestly having her to care for and cwtch up with kept me sane. What a lovely little thing she is! "Nosy Parker" was the nickname all of the midwives gave her because she is so alert and curious, constantly looking about everywhere (unlike the newborns they are accustomed to).

Obviously I have had some rather dark moments in the last week . Having the wound packed and dressed on a daily basis has not been a treat. The pain has also been extremely trying but improves a bit each day. On the last day I was in the hospital the lead breast consultant came in and reduced me to tears when he basically said that the healing process was going to be extremely slow since I am determined to carry on with this breastfeeding nonsense. I agree with the district nurse who came to see me today and re-dress my wound. She said, "Let's prove him wrong, shall we?" Yes indeed! Please continue to keep me in your prayers. I need some serious healing right now so that I can begin fully enjoying being a mother of three!

(Above) Sophie & Emma still enjoyed Halloween at home with Dad.

They carved several of the pumpkins that we grew in our garden.

Never mind that several of our pumpkins stayed green... not enough warmth & sunshine to turn pumpkins orange in Wales!

Green pumpkins are unique... much like those girls.

Breast Angst: The Saga Continues (Read With Caution)

The blog has been neglected this week for a couple of reasons. The main reason is that I have a very demanding newborn. I am re-learning how to do everything (including typing) with one hand since I always seem to have one arm tucked around a gorgeous little babe. The other reason I have been absent from the blog is that I have been continuing to fight this breast abscess.

I had some relief initially after the first aspiration, but a few days later, the pain began to steadily increase again. On Thursday I saw my GP who prescribed another round of antibiotics, but by the weekend the situation was worse than ever. On Sunday Morning George and the kids drove to Bristol to collect my mom from the airport, and while I should have been giddy with anticipation of seeing my mom after many months, I sat in the rocking chair and cried.

So shortly after she arrived, we left my mom home with Emma and Sophie and headed back to the hospital. Boy am I ever getting sick of that place! Since it was a Sunday, there was a skeleton crew on staff, and we basically waited several hours to finally be told: Yes, that looks wicked. Please come back tomorrow when we have the proper staff available to do something about it.

I went home in agony. I did make it through the night nursing Lili and doing my best not to think about what was brewing under the surface of my very red and angry looking left breast.

We went back yesterday and I once again showed Lefty to anyone in the hospital who wanted to take a gander. Their reactions were always a mix of horror and sympathy. At some point while we were waiting, it ruptured. George noticed when I was feeding Lili, and he didn't do a very good job of disguising what he had seen. (I don't know if I am unique is this regard, but it is best for me if I see and know as little as possible when physical injury is involved.) Based on his reaction, I went to the bathroom mirror to have a look. (Luckily the abscess is located on the lower left quadrant, so I can only see it with a mirror.) When I saw that the abscess had finally reached the surface and that a scary-looking blister had formed, I came back to the hospital room and did my best not to burst into tears. All I could say to George was, "Don't say anything!! I don't want to talk about it! [suppressed sobs] I just don't want my boob to explode!!"

My panic was quickly rising. George went to inform the staff that a mental health professional as well as a breast specialist might be required. Shortly one of the midwives came in to check on me. She was followed by the breast specialist, who was determined to sort me out once and for all. Dr. Eleri Davies (such a lovely Welsh name) was also extremely compassionate about my despair. So off we went for another ultrasound and aspiration. Someone pass me a paper bag! It was a dreadful walk. I knew it had to be done, but all I wanted to do was curl up in the corner and hide. When I got into the room and undressed, I could see evidence of the rupture on my breast pad, and I will leave the description at that.

Eleri sent me back to the very same torture chamber... er, ultrasound room, as last time, but this time I had a different doctor and nurse. I am happy to report that this experience was very different than the first. The doctor offered anesthesia, which I gratefully accepted, and the nurse was much gentler in every regard. It was all over in about ten minutes and is now bandaged up so that I cannot see the damage. When the anesthesia wore off about an hour later, it was extremely sore (and continues to be).

So here I am, ever hopeful, that things are finally going to get better. (It's been three weeks now!!) I will return to the hospital to see Eleri again tomorrow and have another aspiration if necessary, Heaven help me.

One of the worst bits, is that when a nursing mother feels poorly, so does her baby. Lili seems to need lots of extra comforting (and nursing) right now when I have the least energy to provide it. It's also difficult to find a comfortable position to hold her with my c-section incision and my broken boob, but we are making it through and holding out hope that this will soon be resolved. Stay tuned if you dare...

Life Goes On...

I have been so encouraged by all of the wonderful messages that have come my way this week. I am also happy to report that things do seem to be getting better. I think another round or two of antibiotics may be required to shift this infection. It is a doozy. I plan to head back to my GP tomorrow to get her opinion on the matter.

Otherwise, life does indeed go on even when mom is sick. On Monday Emma made her Brownie promise before God and everybody at the Pentyrch Village Hall. George reports that she spoke up and delivered the words conviction.


I also managed to get out of the house today (with the help of Sonia) to buy Halloween costumes for three little girls. It was a nice, sunny day to be out, and I did find that the day passed much more quickly when it included a change of scenery. Lili did well on her first outing and incited lots of ooh's and aah's from friends and strangers. I feel a bit bad that I haven't taken near as many pictures of her as my other babies since I've been feeling so poorly, but I'm sure we will make up for it in the coming weeks.

Below is a photo I took over a week ago with Emma and her beloved baby sis. So sweet.

Playing Dollies Never Hurt Like This**

It hasn't been the best week for me. I really thought I had navigated safely through the third baby postpartum stage with a minimum of tears and drama... and then I woke up on Thursday morning and nothing was right. I was slightly feverish, completely tearful... and those "blocked ducts" I had been complaining about were even worse. It also happened to be the day that George was supposed to go back to work. I rang my community midwife to see if she could pay me a visit. After blubbering on the phone to her for several minutes about my milk ducts which I thought had been painfully blocked for over a week, she suggested that I go over to Llandough Hospital to the breast clinic. I agreed to this, then hung up the phone and cried for an hour. (Meanwhile George had gone to register Lili's birth at the Cardiff registrar's office. There was a also a decorator downstairs painting the walls while all of our downstairs furniture sat, piled in disarray in the dining room.)

I finally called Angela (the midwife) back again to tell her that I couldn't face going out to some unfamiliar hospital. She had already assumed as much and had arranged for a breastfeeding advisor to come and pay me a visit at home in the afternoon. While George was off collecting the children from school, Amanda, my breastfeeding-guru/ savior arrived. I answered the door in tears and in my underwear. She was completely unfazed and followed me upstairs to my bedroom where I had spent most of the day wallowing. I explained about the blocked ducts and all of the horrible abuses I had heaped upon my poor left breast to try and unblock them. "Right, shall I just have a look then?" she asked. (Little did I know Amanda would be the first of about 75 people to just 'have a look' at my boobs.)

Oh my word, when she saw what I had been calling 'blocked ducts,' I thought Amanda was going to cry. She was sure they were not blocked ducts. It had even gone far beyond mastitis, a miserable condition I have had in the past. Amanda was 99% sure that I had a breast abscess and that I needed to immediately go back to the hospital to have it all sorted. Of course, nothing can be that simple. I had to first get an emergency appointment with my GP, so that she could confirm the diagnosis and ring the hospital on my behalf. All of this was done. Dr. Pryce looked at my boobs, asked me why I hadn't come in days before, then told me that the worst case scenario was that I'd have to have breast surgery. Great.

Now all five of us headed back over to Royal Glamorgan Hospital. We had been told to enter by the A&E entrance. (That's Accident and Emergency for those of you who are unfamiliar with the NHS.) So I took my very unwell self, my newborn and the rest of my family into the A&E, which shared an entrance with the Swine Flu clinic. Nice. The maternity unit (on the complete opposite side of the hospital complex) was expecting me, and I was told to wait in the waiting area (full of sick-looking people who were most likely carrying horrible communicable illnesses). No thanks. I asked if I could just go back to the car and drive over to maternity, but apparently the porter had already been called to transport me via wheelchair. I steered clear of sick bay waiting area, and an age later a porter arrived without a chair. He had to go and find one. Super. Meanwhile all of the sickies were eyeing up my baby and breathing in her direction.

Finally I ended up back on old familiar Ward 11. I really thought I was done with that post-c-section place. It was time to hurry up and wait. Meanwhile an extremely unhelpful midwife visited periodically to tell me that she didn't know why I had been sent to the hospital and ask why my GP didn't just sort me out. She'd also pop in occasionally to tell is it was going to be a while before the doctor would see us. Actually, all of the midwives were constantly popping in on us as we seemed to have been stowed away in a treatment room/ storage closet. So every few minutes, some member of staff would barge in, then apologise, and go rummaging through one of the cupboards for a wound dressing or something or other.

George and the kids eventually took a field trip to McDonald's while Lili and I continued to wait for the elusive doctor. Finally she made her appearance. She looked to be about 16 years old and seemed very concerned upon examining me. "Right, let me just go and confer with my senior colleague." she said. Several minutes later, her senior colleague, who looked like one of the Jonas Brothers, came in and had a look and a feel. Dr. Jonas really wished I had been in earlier because there was nothing he could do for me until the morning. My situation required an ultrasound for further diagnosis. I was happy he allowed me to go home and return in the morning. He assured me that my breast wouldn't explode overnight, although it felt like it might.

I spent the night at home (thankfully) caring for Lili and alternating between sweats and chills. After the kids were in school, we headed back to the hospital where we basically repeated the previous evening's scenario. Luckily, we did bypass the A&E this time and headed directly to Ward 11.

After showing my breasts to nearly everyone on the ward and becoming so familiar with the storage cupboards in the (same) treatment room that we could gather supplies for the midwives ourselves, I was finally taken down to ultrasound. At this point I was a nervous wreck because I knew that if the ultrasound showed infected fluid in my breast, it would have to be drawn out with a large needle. Wouldn't you know it, there WAS fluid. It was definitely a very infected abscess. The very nice doctor told me that anesthesia would not be helpful, and that we just had to suck it up (so to speak) and do it. I had a full-on panic attack for a minute and somehow got myself together. There is no need to write about what happened next. It was horrifying for me. When it was over, I sat and trembled for several minutes. But it was one of those things that had to be done. I have been taking heavy-duty antibiotics ever since and will be back at the hospital tomorrow. I really hope that more fluid doesn't have to be drained, but I won't be surprised if it does. This will give me another opportunity to go into the 'Jesus Jell-O,' because my brain cannot stay in that room while that is happening. I have been running off to find Jesus a lot lately, and climbing into His Jell-O mold is a good thing to do when this world feels completely overwhelming.

So please keep me in your prayers. All will be fine in the end, but the journey has been somewhat harrowing. Hopefully the next time I write, I will be much bouncier and much less drained.

By the way, please scroll down to the very bottom of the page to view a very cool video that always seems to make Lili stop crying. (Thanks again to Molly Cook for that.)

** My title quote was shamelessly pirated from an email conversation I recently had with my friend Molly, mother of five, who knows firsthand how true it is.

Paula Deen Never Thought Of That!

Fair warning: if you don't want to hear about my breastfeeding woes, skip on to the next entry, which contains nothing unsavoury.

I have avoided my blog for the past few days because I can barely think of anything other than my painful, blocked milk ducts. Today I am breaking the silence in hopes that some of my mommy-pals out there will contact me with a miracle cure. Yesterday, for example, I loaded the left side of my bra with grated, raw potato, which according to several sources, is a tried and true home remedy for drawing out blockages. I will never look at hash browns the same way, kids.

I did just speak to a midwife on the phone, and she encouraged me not to worry but to carry on with what I've been doing: applying heat, excruciating massage of the area, and continued nursing in unusual positions. (I didn't own up to attempting the potato trick.) I am starting to get extremely fed up since this has been going on for nearly a week now. It seems as though I give up one discomfort and it is immediately replaced by a new one! So, my dear mommy friends, I am open to any and all suggestions whether they involve root vegetables or not. Help!

Just to Break Up the Monotony...

I think I finally turned a corner yesterday. I am actually beginning to feel markedly better, which is a very good thing considering the fact that while George was taking Sophie to school this morning, our clever and fabulous decorator/ handy man, Dave, turned up at our door as I sat, teeth and hair un-brushed, nursing Lili in the lounge. Emma, who is home today, running a fever, coughing her head off, and talking a mile a minute, answered the door and let Dave in. I knew we had booked for Dave to come out some Monday in October to do some interior painting, but I obviously wasn't prepared for him this morning.

This is how I know I am starting to get my groove back... I immediately leaped out of the rocking chair, threw a receiving blanket over Lili and the boob and offered to make Dave a cup of tea. Dave accepted, and I easily managed to both feed baby and make the perfect cup of tea with milk and sugar at the same time. This is more like it! I don't mean that I am ready to climb a tree or even go shopping yet, but things are definitely looking up.

Here is an update on Miss Lilianna:

• She prefers songs by Queen to traditional lullabies. Her favourite at the moment is We Are the Champions performed by none other than her Daddy.
• Sophie still cannot believe that Lili is her little sister, still regards her as "so adorable," but now has also determined that she is a "Baby Rock Star."
• Lili prefers never to be put down... seriously never, my back pains don't lie.
• The health visitor came to see her today and concluded that she looks great and has gained 6 whole ounces weighing in at 6 lb, 12 oz. (We thought she felt chunkier!)

Third Time's the Charm

This is what I have in my lap as I type this morning...

I have had five and a half years to forget about how exhausting it is to have a newborn. One wouldn't think that a little thing weighing less than seven pounds could cause so much stress and so many aches and pains. This time around I am, of course, not only dealing with the usual stresses and fatigues that accompany having a new baby, but also coping with the aftermath of surgery. This morning I was moaning to George about how achy my back was and how much I'd love to have a really good stretch. Fear of feeling like I am going to rip my stitches, unfortunately, is preventing me from attempting that good, deep stretch. Ouch!



But I did not sit down here this morning to write about the aches and niggles that will soon fade from my memory. (God was very clever when He gave us all New Mom Amnesia without which none of us would ever have more than one baby.) I did sit down to write about how being a third time mom means being a much more relaxed mom. I know from experience that these discomforts are only temporary. I know how glad I will be in a few months that I persevered with breastfeeding even though at the moment it fills me with a bit of dread. (You will be grateful that I won't go into any more detail than that.) I also know how short of a time we will have someone so tiny and helpless in our midst, and if she wants to be held and nursed constantly... so be it. She will not desire my attention near as much when she's thirteen, so for now, I can take it.



Better still is the rapport that I have with my husband the third time around. When we had our first baby, there was a game we liked to play called "I Am Way More Tired Than You." As you might imagine, this is a game that no one ever really wins. This time around, we know each other so much better. I know that a happy and well-rested George is a much better partner than an exhausted and unappreciated one. This is why I refrain from rolling my eyes when he says he's tired. I know he's tired, and I also know it is not a competition to see who can be the most miserable. Who would want to take that trophy home?


My house is not as clean and tidy as I would like, and there is nothing I can do about it... And I am okay with that. Being not-okay would serve no purpose. We have been eating lots of frozen pizzas and fish fingers lately, and I say, "So what?" This all shall pass. One day I will be back in my kitchen (more than likely with Lili strapped to my chest), and there I shall cook up a culinary feast, but for today, fish and chips and a happy family are all I need.


Also did I mention that I haven't put on real clothes in about eleven days. I am at peace with the fact that this is my time to heal. There will be time to hike up mountains, to cook and clean, to travel and go on outward adventures soon enough, but for now the adventures are all happening inside my untidy house. The main characters are my husband, my children and me, and my costume is George's old garish tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of polka-dot pajama trousers. It isn't perfect... or maybe it is.

Calgon Didn't Take Her Anywhere She Wanted to Go...

Everyone was excited about Lili's first proper bath tonight.

Everyone, that is, except Lili.

This is pretty much how it all went....



But all's well that ends well. She was ever so grateful when her daddy pulled her out of that horrible tub. And now she smells of Burt's Bees' lovely buttermilk soap. Mmmm.


So this tired mom is about to go and cwtch up with sweet smelling, clean, sleepy baby...
Goodnight All.

Your Daily "Awww"

I took this picture of Lili sleeping on George's nasty old Kentucky pillow yesterday. I didn't realize at the time that it looked like the wildcat was about to claw her head... but the baby is still totally cute. Her sweetness is making my slow recovery feel completely worth it.

Life With Lili

It's been almost a week, and we are loving life with Lili. For the first few days, whenever Sophie was in her presence, she'd practically chant, "I just can't believe she's my baby sister!" There is something amazing about it. We all knew that I had been pregnant with an actual baby for the last nine months, but the reality of her being here in the outside world with us still takes our breath away.

For the past couple of days, Sophie's mantra has changed into, "She's just SO adorable!"

Emma has been found on more than one occasion just sitting and watching Lili sleep. I have to admit that this is one of my new favourite pastimes too. I can't help but think what a lucky little lady our Lili is. She has no idea how much she is loved. Last night after I read Emma a bedtime story (Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig) and tried to send her off to bed, she asked, "Can I please bring a book in here with you and Lili and read quietly until I get tired? I just want to be in the same room as her." Who could refuse that? Later she commented,

"I can't wait to see what Lilianna looks like when she gets older, but I don't want to wish this time away. I just LOVE having a tiny baby at our house." Ah, my sentiments exactly, Emma!

On another note, I am loving my house husband who has two weeks off for paternity leave. I don't know what I'd do without him here, and I have a feeling that at least one of us is going to dissolve into tears when he has to go back to work. Recovering from a c-section is the pits in my opinion, especially after having two natural deliveries under my belt. There are times when I am completely frustrated and overwhelmed with the continuing aches, pains and limitations that I experience. But it is what it is, and I am so grateful that George is spending his paternity leave taking the best care of us, rather than going "down the pub to wet the baby's head" as I am told many British dads do!

The post-partum era does bring much more good than bad. In addition to having a beautiful new baby, I find that I have also suddenly given up the horrible, treacherous heartburn of pregnancy. I no longer have to get up and go to the loo 17 times in the middle of the night. Pelvic girdle pain is gone... never mind that it has been replaced by deep stabbing pains at the incision sight-- we are looking on the bright side here. I can see my feet again. And, if they didn't feel like hot, hard, boulders, I'm sure I'd be completely pleased with the giant set of milk jugs I woke up with on Saturday morning. Do you see how I can never just leave well enough alone by simply describing how lovely it is to have a new baby. I have to include this ridiculous paragraph about things you'd just as soon never read. Sorry about that, but you knew this was my blog when you started reading.