This story is going to be fairly short, but not so sweet. Why am I sharing it? because when
"thy shit-th hit-th thy fan-th" I survive by seeing the funny side of life and sharing it with you to hopefully make you laugh (therefore turning bad to good! See I am dominating evil one disastrous day at a time!).
Monday started in a hot sweaty daze of confusion (and when I say started... days don't really have a start or end anymore, not when you are up feeding every 2 hours thru the night) its more that.. well... the sun came up. Okay, so when "the sun came up" on monday I felt delusional. More than usual. I had been trying to ignore that my right breast had become increasingly sore since friday night. It was throbbing! The weather was hot and muggy, so I was finding it hard to tell if my excessive sweating/clamminess was due to the outside temperature or something more sinister. I took some painkillers and started to get on with the day.
Baby fed, put in pram awake, make a cup of tea (drink two sips), baby cries, rock baby, put load of washing on, baby cries, move to tummy time, another two sips of tea, load dishwasher, baby cries, move to my bed (he is currently having a sweet love affair with my black and white striped bedhead. They say babies at 2 months develop a preference for black and white or high contrast patterns. I say "whatever keeps him quiet"). Make some breakfast, eat two bites, he is crying, really really crying, he wants food (hmmm, its only been 45 minutes since the last feed?) SCREAMING NOW...righto, you win, more food. So as not to bore you with every other mundane task I did between feeds that day I'll cut to the chase, these 45 minute feeds continued all day. It was relentless, I was couch bound and my throbbing right breast was turning BLUE! This, coupled with a fever, flu like aches and pains, dizziness had me dreading the inevitable... the BIG "M"... yep! I feared it was Mastitis
My mother in law was due over to my house at 3pm to look after bubs as I had a physio appointment, so all I needed to do was to SURVIVE until then. By 2pm I was desperate, he was sobbing and I joined him. I looked into his eyes as we both sobbed loud sobs gulping occasionally for air. We were both hot sticky, sobby messes.
My mother in law arrived just as my little man nodded off to sleep. So typical! Part of me hoped he continued his naughty behaviour for her just to prove that he wasn't an angel all the time (and more to the point, that I wasn't a big sook and hopeless mother). But then another part thought "hmmm we have more chance of more babysitting if he does act like an angel... okay okay I take it back". I explained the scenario and warned her what she might be in for, pointed out the expressed bottles in the fridge, nappies, sick towels and of course trusty trusty Mr Dum Dum. She waved me out with the sleeping angel in her arms "Have Fun!" she said. "FUN?" I was headed to a Pelvic Floor Physio Specialist and then most like to the doctors for an emergency appointment about my explosive throbbing boob... FUN?... I'll try...
I was beeped by a car as I drove to the Physio. I was so tired that I was doing 40kms in an 80kms zone and swaying between 2 lanes... (perhaps babies should come with a sticker like on some medications
"This baby may cause drowsiness and may increase the effects of alcohol. If affected do not drive a motor vehicle or operate machinery" it certainly does cause drowsiness and considering the lack of alcohol in my system over the last 11 months "hell yes" it would increase the effects).
Upon arriving at the clinic I was greeted with an 8 page form which I needed to fill out with all my wee's and poo's history. I scribbled my vague thoughts down as my head occasionally dropped sleepily to my chest. On entering the specialists room she asked me how my day had been... to which of course I burst into tears. Tissues were bought over and a short chat about my disastrous day and possible mastitis ensued before getting down to the real nitty gritty. Forty minutes talking wee's and poo's later and were up the the physical examination. This involved the old lady wearing gloves... oh this day just keeps getting better!!
I didn't expect my first "vaginal" experience after giving birth to be 15 minutes with an old lady poking around my bits and trying to get me to clinch my muscles around her fingers. Again the tears started to roll as she kept trying to getting me to move my pelvic floor muscles over and over (and I was pretty sure all I was moving was my facial muscles! squeezing my face in all different contortions). Clearly my brain had cut ties with the nerve endings to that southern train route. The last loca-motion to service that track crashed and burned and seems to have cut off all future connections. Okay appointment OVER! shell out $125 bucks for that "fun bucket" experience and head off to the crappy bulk billing doctors down the road from my house (where you can usually just walk in off the street and get an urgent appointment anytime). I have a good GP who I see for scheduled appointments, but she is usually booked up 2 weeks in advance, so today was pot luck. I didn't care, I needed drugs and I needed them NOW! The receptionist explained they were booked out... my tears welled and I leaned over the counter and whispered "look, my baby is at home, I think I have... Mastitis... please... if you can do something...". She looked at me with understanding, knowing, motherly eyes, "oh, of course, Ok, take a seat I will squeeze you in", THANK-GOODNESS!.
Eventually my name is called out by an elderly doctor (who looks like he should have retired years ago). Great! its your lucky day buddy! Bet you didn't think you'd be feeling up some tits for afternoon tea. Luckily he turned out to be super sweet, really understanding and not at all the creep I had imagined. Anti-biotics were issued (along with a second tablet that wards off thrush, which is often a side effect of the anti-biotics. Thank-goodness for his forward thinking!). I headed off to the chemist to pick up my supplies.
I returned home to a quiet house (dammit! little angel!!!). But my mother in law was laying on my bed looking weary with my son on her chest. She slowly took her ear phones out of her ears and whispered "little terrorist... he was a little terrorist! I can see he has been giving mummy a hard time". I was flooded with relief! It wasn't just me!!. Although she seemed pretty keen to leave, so perhaps weekly babysitting wasn't looking so appealing??.
When my hubby finally returned home from work, he walked into our room and stroked my weary back, "How was your day my love?"
"Hmmmm, let's see, I was fingered by an old lady... before having my tits felt up by an old man... and that's just the highlights!"
There wasn't much else I could say, or he.
"Are you hungry?" he asked? "I can make some dinner"
"Yes.. yes please and thank-you!!"
that was the best response I could have hoped for.
So that was my day from hell. Of course not everyday is like this. But it was one of the more comical bad days and therefore I felt the need to share. Also just like the birth memories (and the memory of my my pelvic floor muscles) it seems that evolution has created "Amnesia" to ensure its continued survival of the human race. So I make myself write these adventures before I forget... or black them out.
It took me three days to get this story completed, little entries were typed, bit by bit during the wee hour feeds to keep me focused and entertained. We survived! the anti-biotics have kicked in, my hubby took use of the two days of carers leave that the doctor kindly issued, allowing mummy to get some sleep and I have now returned to the land of the living.
Perhaps babies should be issued with this label...
These are the moments you cherish... early morning smiles.
Bub's favourite "Mr Stripey" bedhead in the background (or maybe I should call it "Ms Smiles" with the looks he's giving it!).
good day to you!