boba-wrap baby-wearing.

Having read this article I was talking with another new mum I know through the NCT about the rubbish that expectant parents are convinced they need and the things that we couldn't do without.

For me, the best thing we bought was the Boba Wrap.  It is no secret that I love baby wearing.  Whenever I leave the house, Faelen is permanently strapped to my front.  There is something so special about having my cuddly radiator snugged into my chest as we walk in the cold.  I can hear him breathe, snore and snuffle against me as he sleeps.  When he is awake he stares up at my face with those huge blue eyes and talks endlessly at me - I can only guess what about.

I am always asked how my back is holding up but my beautiful chunky boy now weighs over a stone and I still wear him daily without difficulty (in fact it has probably helped speed up my slow progression back towards my pre-pregnancy shape).  Simply put, I get endless enjoyment from being able to share the outdoors with him.

Below are a handful of pictures from my first fretful days of wearing the Boba Wrap - it took me a good week before I was comfortable wearing it without clutching Faelen just in case. 

[In case you're interested, the one thing we could have really done without was a very well meaning gift - a kit to take an impression of your baby's hand print.  In principle a lovely idea but getting a newborn with scrunched up fists to make an imprint is basically impossible - we are now the proud owner of a fist print and some kind of splodgy dent].

the winter woodland nursery.

This weekend we have been trying to pull Faelen's nursery together.  It was on my list to do pre-baby but, somewhere between moving house and growing to the size of a house, it got forgotten, so for the last four months it has vaguely resembled a nursery-themed-landfill site.

Faelen still sleeps in our room but, in preparation for the inevitable transition, this weekend was spent painstakingly peeling, sticking and burnishing the enormous winter tree decals onto the walls, bickering over the perfect placement of the white birds and generally tea drinking and admiring our handiwork.  

The tree decals were bought from Etsy as a genius solution to the conundrum of decorating a nursery in rented accommodation.  They look pretty dramatic in the room and will simply peel away when we leave (supposedly)!  

The winter tree photograph (second from last photo, on the left) is a photograph of mine and James' favourite haunt in Cardiff - Bute Park.  We spent so many of our days off (and procrastination days during exams) in that park, it seemed like the perfect piece of Cardiff to place in our new home.  We made it using a blueprint from Staples, tutorials and suggestions for which seem to be populating the blogosphere.  I will include a better picture of it when I finally manage to find a way of fixing it to the wall!

For rented property, this room really feels like it is ours (all except for that bloody beige carpet)!  I spent an enjoyable long while tucked up on the small sofa this afternoon, nursing Faelen and watching the rain.  A week ago, I could barely push open the door against the chaos.  Whilst we still have more plans for this little space, it already is starting to resemble to winter woodland I was hoping for.

dear baby boy, at 15 weeks.

My baby boy is fifteen weeks already.  Incredible.
There was a time between newborn and now that I found this hard.  So unbelievably hard.  I craved to have back the tiny sleepy newborn and struggled with this robust, dynamic baby that had endless needs and means of communicating them quietly.  The initial influx of support and attention had dried up and James had gone back to work.  I felt like everyone's lives continued but mine remained on pause.

Then one day I woke and it wasn't hard anymore.  Challenging - oh yes, but not hard.  I could never wish back my sleepy newborn when faced with this talkative, lively and ever changing baby.  

Our lives have changed so drastically over these 15 weeks.  Faelen's face now lights up when he spies me, whether I have returned to his cot after his long morning nap or have only left the room for a couple of seconds. I wish more than anything I knew what he is telling the washing machine and what exactly is so funny about the black picture frame.  His aggressive hand chewing has been replaced in preference for a more serene sucking on his right forefinger and recently he has started to use all his concentration on putting any found object in his mouth (although his aim requires improvement).  He fights sleep like its his job and he demands to be sat upright throughout the day; I imagine that perhaps he hates to miss a single moment of the world./

And best of all, Faelen laughs, the most insane giggle I have ever heard.  Like we used to for his smiles, we work so hard to earn those laughs.  He is a boy who adores rough and tumble already, nothing amuses him more than pretending to drop him, over and over.  For the first time in my life I have defined arm muscles!  

My days with Faelen are sometimes long, always challenging but endlessly rewarding.   All day long I catch myself staring with no other thought in my mind besides 'I adore this boy'.  

on an extended absence (and many gratuitous photographs of the world's cutest baby).

I hadn't realised how long I had neglected this space until this morning.  What can I say?  This baby is a black hole for time.

It is strange, last week I had started to feel like I had this thing nailed - we had a bedtime routine, we had regular but copable night wake ups, we had smiley mornings and long naps in the day.  I began to tentatively feel that I was finally getting to grips with this parenting thing and slowly I allowed myself to relax.  Then I committed the No.1 crime, the one thing you should never do, I uttered the words to my mother - I think I am finally getting this.  

Immediately night times became something that, shamefully, I began to dread.  My previously cosy nighttime boy, happy to wake only twice for moonlit feeds, found his lungs and his desire for endless love and attention. During the nights of the last week or so we have only achieved an hour of sleep at a time. At first I felt crestfallen and had to fight the sense I had got something wrong. 

(don't be fooled by that grin!)

But, after a couple frustrated days involving far too many tearful phone conversations with my mother (sorry mum) I realised just how well Faelen continues to do by day.  He has now fully found his hands and spends a large portion of every day attempting to shove his entire fist in his mouth, he is amused by my renditions of any Flight of the Conchords song, he smiles (borderline hysterically) at the stuffed triangle we hang on his bouncy chair and will talk endlessly to the butterflies that hang on the play mat.  He is a social, bubbly, smiley little boy.

So, whilst sleep still feels like a fantastical wish, what I have learnt this week is that you never get this.  Getting it is the not the point of this joint adventure.  Faelen is learning and growing too much every day to simply reside in a state of equilibrium.  I can't guarantee to feel any less frustrated at 3, 4 or 5am but I am fully accepting of this part of the process.  

the first sea visit.

We took Faelen to see the sea.  I know he won't remember his first, cold January walk along the coast, tucked in the sling (and briefly in his daddies coat), but we will.  Babies manage to bring a magic to all the usually mundane and everyday.
Whilst Faelen dozed, James and I talked at length as we walked about the 'firsts' we have already experienced with Faelen in the nine weeks he has been a part of our lives, and the hundreds we have yet to come.  Whilst this may have been his first breath of sea air, we have the first trip where he stays awake long enough to see the sea to look forwards to, then the trips where he notices it, says its name, paddles, swims, hassles for ice cream and maybe, eventually, surfs in it.  There is so much to come.
For now though, I am happy to walk in the drizzle with my small hedgehog boy snuffling into my chest.

on secret, busy days.

Days with a baby are exhausting.  Thrilling, mesmerising and exciting too, but exhausting.  Somehow though, James can come back from a busy shift at the hospital filled with stories and buzzing from the excitement that comes with finally doing a job you have waited six years for and I find myself wondering what exactly I have achieved with my day.

I know the answer to this question is a hundred things.  I have comforted, sung and danced, I have fed and changed and cradled, soothed and washed.  The thing is, all of these things are somehow secret.  Faelen and I are hidden behind the locked front door acting out our days.  No one watches us as he discovers his hands and I go loopy with excitement, no one watches us as I finally learn to read his signs of tiredness and no one watches us as we marathon feed to soothe him from a temperature.  But it doesn't make those moments less valuable.

Okay, so what if eating breakfast and brushing my teeth feels like an indicator of a productive day?  If writing a blog post once a week feels insanely creative and if taking a picture of something other than my babe is one heck of an achievement?
Me and him?  We are very busy spending our days learning to be the best of double acts.

first month, first smiles.

This whole motherhood thing continues to astound me.  I never knew I was capable of such extremes of emotion over mere minutes.  How is it possible to swing from a sense of drowning in Faelen's inconsolable crying to experiencing a wave of happiness so physical it gives me butterflies?  
This morning Faelen gave his first smile.  His first perfect smile.  And, somehow, perhaps a reward for making it through the previous night, it was caught on camera.  Apparently the shutter sound is his new favourite thing!  Those lit up eyes and the slight dimples spied on those chubby cheeks have kept me buzzing all day.



When I imagined what it would be like to have a baby, I could never have conceived of how it tests and rewards.  The airbrushed scenes from baby clothing catalogues have no hope of capturing the magic of a perfect moment following a night that, at the time, felt like it might never end.  Perhaps it is because the perfect moments in the catalogues aren't prefixed with 30+ pictures of the carnage that comes with changing five nappies in an hour (one of which leaked from the top of the babygrow) and a continual, shrill background wailing.  



Best of all though, between the extremes, come these perfect quiet moments.  The ones that to an outsider may appear insignificant, but for me have redefined contentment.  
And wow, hasn't he grown?!

Faelen at one month.

Lately I have been absent from this space.  In fact, I could probably say I have been absent from all aspects of my before life.  Faelen takes up no small amount of time.

Tomorrow Faelen will be a month old.  Who could believe, after nine months of anticipation and waiting, nine months of gathering, preparing and imagining, that my newborn boy is no longer a newborn.  His puffy face and red features have settled into the soft pinks of a baby.
  

This morning, like every morning, I woke at 5:30am to the sound of Faelen deciding he was done with sleep.  I pulled him, toasty in his sleepsuit, from the moses basket by my side into our bed.  Then, like every morning, he fed whilst staring at the fairy lights around the bed before resuming sleeping, curled tightly on my chest.  At 7am we continue with our morning routine; I dress whilst he tries to find his hands or energetically kicks his feet, then I change and dress him.

This routine, despite its newness in my life, feels so familiar. The nervousness I used to feel pulling sleeves over his small hands has already been replaced with an efficiency learnt through countless changes.  The nappy changes which once took a delicate and painstaking fifteen minutes are now an streamlined procedure, completed before Faelen has time to decide he wants to cry.  

This morning however, unlike other mornings, there was a small change.  This morning I had to accept my tiny, curled up snail baby, has grown.  Faelen no longer fits the small, perfect clothes of a new born.  Today he is wearing his first item for babies aged up to three months.  I know as milestones go there are plenty bigger coming our way, but this was the first moment I realised how quickly our time together is racing.

dear Faelen; at the end of our second week.

We have reached the two week mark and James goes back to work tonight. I know my focus should be on how perfect these two autumnal weeks have been but, ungratefully, I just feel a little cheated that our quiet, insular time has to come to an end.



People keep asking me how does it feel to be a mum?  The thing is I don't quite feel like a mum yet; more like someone who has acquired a baby.  Becoming a mum is a little like having a birthday, in the time of build up and anticipation you believe that you will wake up and feel fundamentally different.  Then, like the day following any birthday, you realise you are exactly who you were the day before, and the day before that.  I am still me, just a version of me with new responsibilities.



That said, whilst I feel no different, I have loved watching James become a father.  I expect if you asked him he would say he feels the same as he did before.  But he isn't.  The efforts he has gone to and the patience he has shown in the last two weeks have been beyond anything I thought him capable of.




James and I aside; Faelen at two weeks, oh my gosh, the changes.  We have such alert times now - he has started to turn his head to look around and his eyes stare so intently at bright lights and close faces.  James and I have spent long evenings sat with him on the sofa enjoying these first moments of early interaction.

But as James returns to work we start the next chapter of babyhood and learning motherhood with days that belong to just Faelen and I (with no more avoiding of nappy duty)!

the first family walk.

We woke up one morning at 5am with Faelen making his needs known.  James made me hot tea as I fed Faelen in bed.  We opened the curtains to watch the November dark recede and were met with mist and frost - a sure sign it was time for our new baby hibernation to end.
The three of us bundled up against the cold, we faffed and succeeded with the Boba Wrap and, after a couple of false starts (Faelen has the unerring knack of requiring feeding then changing the minute we are ready to do something), we were out the door.

Having walked round Arnos Vale countless times whilst pregnant, imagining what it would be like to share the walk with a future, unknown child, finally doing it was magical.  The top of his small head in an oversized hat, his warmth and his comforting milky smell were always beyond my imagining.  I had never thought of all the strange squeaks and grunts he would make as we walked around.  And I had never counted on the number of people that would be eager to stop us and comment on his size, his hair and his perfect features.

It was a slow walk but one we had waited months for; our first family walk in the crisp autumn.

my dear Faelen, at the end of our first week.

I don't think I can sum up into words how exhausting, blissful and surreal this past week has been.  The first day, waking up with Faelen asleep in the moses basket next to the bed felt like waking up in someone else's life.  James and I stayed in bed for three hours, drinking rounds of tea and staring at this crinkled being lying on the sheets between us.  
This week has consisted of tired faces, minimal sleep and shared smug gazes; the pride that we have managed to grow such a perfect small human has been overwhelming.

And it has been a week of firsts for us and him.  Dressing him for the first time, trying to figure out how sturdy his arms are when pulling them through sleeves.  The first nappy change, feeling frantic as this small being turned purple with screaming.  The first night where, despite post-labour exhaustion, neither of us slept a moment through excitement and anxiety.  The first morning dressing myself without the bump, not knowing what would fit and becoming acquainted with stretchmarks I had previously been unable to see.  The first moment that our new son fell asleep in our arms.  The first time he opened his eyes and we watched his uncoordinated eyes rove around the room.  Our days consist of hundreds of tiny yet momentous, perfect firsts.  I wish I could document them all.

Mostly I can't believe our first week is gone forever and already he has changed and grown.  He has softened and lost some of his creases, his skin has developed blemishes from being in the outside world.  He has shown us his desperation to support his head and his eyes are starting to really look.  Day by day he feeds for longer and we learn to read his noises and expressions.  The three of us have begun something unstoppable.

the big introduction.

Introducing Faelen Stanley Dalton, born at home weighing 8lb3 and, in my unbiased opinion, he is absolutely perfect.

pregnancy // the last haul, 37 weeks.

So bump and I are nearing the end of this time, baby boy is officially at term.  Clearly we could still be in this together for a few more weeks but it is a nice thought that I could be meeting him any day now.  

Baby boy started his 37th week with a bit of drama and a scare.  Firstly I must prefix this story with - everything is absolutely fine. 
See, this bump is a night time bunny, every time I lie down to go to sleep he starts his break-dance routine in style.  Sunday night however was different, he barely shifted position.  Throughout the night I became more and more aware of his silence.  By the time James' alarm went off at 5:30am Monday morning, I hadn't felt him move for almost 10 hours and I was a crying mess trying to explain to James that I thought something was wrong. 
James was perfect, he phoned the midwives to ask them what to do, then phoned his work to let them know he wouldn't be in.  The Bristolian Midwives are wonderful, Bristol is the place to be for pregnant people; they reassured James at length, told him to make me tea and toast first, then to make our way over.  

We drove in through the inner-city traffic, both trying to be calm, reassuring one another.  The twenty minute wait in the hospital felt eternal.  Eventually the midwife called my name and bump was strapped into the monitors.  There was a lurching few seconds where she was unable to find a heartbeat then bump clearly decided enough was enough and he was bored of being quiet.  What followed was a slightly embarrassing 30 minutes of monitoring - bump moved so much the straps barely stayed in position and the sensors couldn't keep track of his heart beat.  The midwife commented she had never tracked a baby quite so active during one of these appointments.  During the scan of the umbilical (checking it is receiving adequate bloodflow) he actually did a 360 spin.  A full turn.  It took forever.  I struggled to stop tearing-up through the whole thing; tiredness, hormones and overwhelming relief and gratitude.

Baby boy is fine, he is well and healthy, he is developing normally.  We are so lucky.  

a babyshower.

This weekend I got totally spoilt.  My old school friends turned up en masse (something we are lucky to manage once a year) bearing gifts and banoffee pie for a babyshower.  I hadn't really considered a babyshower - them being an American phenomenon and me being a British bunny, I figured it wouldn't apply to me.  Turns out I have pretty good friends!



A prolonged lunch and catch-up was followed by afternoon tea and cake at Cox & Baloney (including the best lemon and Earl Grey cake) then, following our return in the evening, James and I were made dinner in our own kitchen - literally the best kind of decadence!



And the gifts!  Oh my gosh.  Whilst baby boy now has ridiculously adorable baby clothes to look forwards to (I totally take back my boy stuff just isn't as cute complaint), I was spoilt with handmade earrings made my friend's mother (you never get too big for earrings!!) and a bottle of Prosecco with Babycham flutes to enjoy after the baby boy has arrived.  And, incredibly, my talented friend Jess (who blogs over at Jungle Noises) actually sewed a quilt - like, a whole actual quilt!  I can't imagine how long that must have taken!

So so spoilt :)

2013 the baby shower

2006 (quite a while ago) the first group picture ever - taken on holiday (the various men in this picture have all since been forgotten)!

baby boy: nursery thoughts.

Rationally I know that baby bump won’t notice or care what the nursery looks like, especially as he won't even be sleeping in it for the first few months, but it bothers me that his first room is basically a glorified utilities-cupboard.  It can be hard in rented home, especially a relatively short term let where spending money on paint and carpets would be foolish, to make a place seem like a home.  This seems to apply more for the nursery than any other room in the house; I would love to be able to paint the walls like my mum did for me and my brother growing up.  

D and I were both born at home in a tiny cottage surrounded by fields.  When we had to leave to move to the town, we were devastated.  Mum was wonderful though and worked so hard to make us a new, special place in the large, unloveable town house.  My bedroom was painted with a night scene at one end with a large moon and bats painted around the window, D had a green bedroom with strange aliens peering from behind the radiator and the side of his bed.

I wish baby bump could grow and play in a room that he knew was painted, with love, just for him.  As this is not possible I have been putting my efforts into small projects in an attempt to create a space that feels a little special.

This moggy was knit using a Donna Wilson pattern.  Whilst I know that he is unlikely to pick my lovingly handmade toy as his future favourite (growing up all nice toys paled in comparison to the one a family friend gave me from a Happy Meal) I can pretend that he may one day be appreciative! 

34 weeks pregnant.

James and I have nearly completed our NCT classes now and, for me, meeting women of a similar girth has been great!  Being the first one of my friends to get pregnant has been a little scary - other than my mother and google (and seriously, never, ever google anything in pregnancy, it gets dark) I have lacked people to direct my endless, naive questions and need for reassurance at.  Meeting other expectant first-time mums has helped so much - some of them even managed to ask questions more daft than mine!  
I was surprised on the first day to find that James and I are considerably the youngest in the NCT class and we both had others in the group "discretely" ask whether or not we planned this pregnancy!  At 24 I am always surprised when people ask us that; 24 feels like a very reasonable age to start a family (even my Nonna approves)!  We are also the only couple in the group planning a homebirth, so all round we have failed to blend in!

What is the internet for if not for sharing slightly awkward, semi-undressed, grainy pictures of your stomach? 

Anyway, baby boy is a whole 34 weeks and 4 days brewed.  These pictures were taken last week, I thought then that my tummy couldn't stretch much further, but comparing these pictures to the size of bump today it is pretty clear that baby boy is still acing this growing thing.  I regret not taking more bump pictures.  Sometimes it feels like I have been pregnant for years and my stomach has always occluded my view of my feet but then a picture shows the difference that a couple weeks has made to my body and I remember how far those daily, imperceptible changes have taken baby boy and I.  
As we have grown, sleep has become a thing of the past.  I am spending my days in a cosy, tired fug.  I am so grateful to not be working at this time, being able to snatch five minutes of doze on the sofa throughout the day keeps me ticking over.  It is a charmed time; drinking tea, reading, knitting, singing to bump and waiting for the next stage to begin.

Dear baby boy; at the end of the second trimester...

Dear Bump, you and I have officially entered the third trimester.  I thought the second trimester would last an eternity; starting out with  nothing but a flat(ish) tummy and a grainy picture to prove you existed, but wow I was wrong.  The weeks have flown and you have achieved so much!

You are no longer just bump but you have earned the grand title of baby-boy-bump (how it irritates your grandparents that they do not know your name yet).  You wake me up every morning with your wiggling and I fall asleep watching my tummy pulsate under your kicking.  On good days I get to enjoy a post-lunch wriggle as well.  Every day you grow a bit more and my waistband digs in just a little further; I am entering the dangerous zone of exclusive legging wearing!  I know I have a long way to grow yet but I still marvel at how my reflection has changed when I catch sight of myself in shop windows or car doors.

For me the second trimester has been easy and straightforwards; I have been happy and healthy and only missing brie and wine a little bit!  As we have been getting closer to the third stage of this pregnancy I have been more tired but with my family all around, I have been spoilt with more cups of tea than I will ever be able to repay.

Well done baby-boy-bump, keep up the good work!

And, oh my gosh, I am so excited to meet you.

(NB: I am back in the world of the laptop, sadly without photoshop (boo) but back nonetheless)