Welcome to my blog & central hub…

…just my own thoughts. Of more interest may be my sister blogs:

My own vegetarian recipes online:

!BooPerFooD!

My Vegetarian Baby-led Weaning site:

!BooPerBabY!

Blog for the first and biggest creator of virtual fros and dreads (not touched it in years, but you never know…):

!BooPerFunK!

My Birth Story

It’s long! It’s true! It’s a bit ishy… shit happens.

Nothing can prepare you for childbirth. There are some things however that you shouldn’t have to be prepared for. In this society, in this day and age, we expect certain things – cleanliness, professionalism, respect and dignity during the process of bringing a new life into this world. In fact we expect those basic things at all times. In England, in 2009, in a large and respected hospital, why were these basic needs missing from my experience?
My twin boys are now 15 weeks old and 1 day. It has taken me this long to find the energy, time, and peace of mind to write this down. Let me start by pointing out that I knew that having twins was always going to be difficult – before, during and after birth, but that’s why I was there at that hospital, not planning a home birth, no birthing pool experience preparations. No, trusting them to cut me open and yank those babies out. I trusted in those basic principles and rights and had no reason to believe I would not be granted them.

My pregnancy was tough but enjoyable. People treated me differently, I could stop worrying about dieting, I loved the way my body looked and changed, even right up to the end when I was huge at 37 weeks. It was very hard work too, I suffered from terrible odema, carpal tunnel in hands and feet, sciatica, heart burn, lethargy, breathlessness, and towards the end could hardly walk. I stopped work at 32 weeks, not a day too early. I spent the last few weeks of my pregnancy trying so desperately to keep those babies inside me – I knew it was the best place for them to be. I read a stack of books about breast feeding and sleep routines, joined several groups on the Internet, and talked to everyone I could who had experience of having children. I slept as much as possible, allowed my family to spoil me, kept away from cigarette smoke, drank no alcohol, wouldn’t even take paracetamol or anti-histamines. I gave up caffeine completely in all forms except chocolate which I craved like crazy. I drank water constantly and masses of fruit. I did everything right – these babies were a long time waited for and at 39 I didn’t want to wait any longer, or have to go through this again. I was going to the toilet every half hour in the last few weeks, and hardly sleeping as I was so uncomfortable, but when it got to be too much for me I would just tell myself mantra-style ‘it is temporary’ over and over. I drank in every experience of my pregnancy, also keeping a diary in words and pictures so I would never forget it.

At the beginning of my third trimester baby number 1 had moved into breech position and I was told to prepare myself for a caesarian section. To be honest I had no preconceptions. If anything I was quite pleased because it sounded a whole lot less painful than natural delivery which terrified me. I knew several people (most actually) had had c sections, all emergency ones and understandably awful as they had already gone through many hours of labour beforehand. I knew one person who had had 2 planned (elective) sections and was happy with her decision. I had no reason to worry about it. The information I was given was vague. It will be well planned in advance with a whole team of professionals, your husband can be there but no, not your mom. It carries the risks of any major operations and you might not be able to drive straight after. Sounded ok, of course I was scared – I was scared stiff of having two babies to care for more than anything else, but at the end of the day I just wanted them delivered safely and so trusted the professionals to do whatever was best.

My section was planned for 38 weeks. However at 36 weeks my body was straining to its limits. One day I developed a numbness in my mouth, a feeling as If I had been to the dentist and the anaesthetic was wearing off, it was weird but not worrying. The following morning half of my face had dropped – like I had had a stroke, which is what everyone thought. Half an hour careful exploration on the Internet assured me I had developed Bell’s Palsy. A phone call and visit to triage at the hospital confirmed this. It also turned out that my blood pressure was sky high and blood and urine tests were taken. On my Internet searches I found out that Bell’s Palsy is not too uncommon in pregnancy, more common when carrying multiples, and generally lasts between 3 weeks and 6 months. It can be treated with steroids but this must not be done during pregnancy or while breast-feeding. I know how to use the Internet properly – I cross-referenced my information and was fairly confident with the information I had found.
While in triage I was seen by 4 doctors who asked me the same questions and carried out the same tests. The second one was about to prescribe me steroids and stated they were perfectly safe when I queried this, the third came in and said they couldn’t treat it because steroids were unsafe to use. After 4 or 5 hours of this I was admitted to hospital there and then.

I was taken to a delivery ward where I stayed until late into the evening, my husband was there and my parents came along. It was a nice enough room and the 2 midwives that took care of me in succession were lovely, making tea and coffee for my family and toast for me. It was scary – I had never stayed in hospital before and didn’t really know what to expect, on top of this the palsy was getting worse – I was dribbling when I ate, slurring my speech, and one eye was constantly watering because it wouldn’t fully close. Eating was just really hard and I kept biting my lips and gums and dropping food out of my mouth. I slept on and off, and much much later was taken up to a ward where I was given a room to myself, sadly with no TV, radio and not knowing I could use my phone or bring in a laptop. I was there for 4 nights. I just remember feeling very sad and lonely. I remember the staff all being pretty nice to me but being surprised at how many people just walked in and out of my room constantly, thankfully I had a bathroom so at least I could have privacy in there. The following morning I had a pre-booked ante-natal appointent and scan for 36 weeks. I got up in the morning and met my mom and dad in the waiting room. The consultant announced that they were bringing the section forward to 37 weeks – the 22nd of January, it was the 16th then and suddenly it all seems so close and so real. I was emotionally just overwhelmed – the palsy, the night in hospital, and now 6 days till I would have my boys.

****

I did attempt to resume this when my twins were 5 months and 4 days old. Every time I try it seems an overwhelming task. I thought I would have laid down these words long ago. My boys are now 6 months, 2 weeks, 5 days. They have had their first holiday to Spain, become accomplished Baby-led weaners, and grown out of a crate-load of clothes. Arlo has had a big boy cot for quite a while and now is in his own room with his daddy. Niah is combination fed. Things have changed – I can usually get them to nap twice a day! Like right now (took some photos just now, I’ll add them to this later maybe).

While in hospital pre-birth I was also prescribed some medication for my high BP. Herein possibly started the problems. There seemed to be some uncertainty about whether I was to be taking the medication at regular intervals or only when my BP went high. There seemed to uncertainty about how high was normal for me at that time, and if I took the tablets regularly, how many. This is crazy I know but for 5 days it went on in swings and roundabouts. Every day a different midwife introduced herself, then every night a different one, every day a different doctor or consultant. Every day I was promised that someone would come and see if I was ‘allowed’ to go home. The heart-breaking one was on the Saturday – a doctor in the morning had said I could go home in the afternoon, then after waiting all day changed her mind and said the following morning her colleague would discharge me after final checks. In the morning I was packed and ready and the doctor never came. I kept asking but he never came. Then after 3 days I was ushered out of the room because it was needed for someone with a disability – fair enough, but we were actually almost physically pushed out of the room, it was a hysterical rush! Did I mention that they took the only chair from the room and kept forgetting to bring it back so my mom, dad, Robin had no where to sit most days – the floor or my bed only.
I moved to another room (was soooo lucky to have my own room with a drafty window) – then I got to see the real deal, no more comfy bed with adjustable support, nope! It was an old steel frame and however I positioned the pillows I ended up with metal digging into me, also it wouldn’t lie flat and I couldn’t lie on my back so I was crunched into 2/3rds of the bed.
On the final day, a Monday when I was told in the morning I could go home (the delivery was going to be on the Thursday – they wanted me to stay but I really needed to go home if only for a night, just to see my home, my cats, my things, hold my husband, in case anything went wrong, I can’t explain but I had to) we were told at about 9am that we were just waiting for a few tests. My mom was there, we were packed, it should only have been 2 hours max we were told. Well we waited, and we waited, and to cut a long story short, shifts changed, we kept asking what was up, people kept saying they had contacted the doctor. Eventually the message comes back that she forgot, was now in theatre (I think they meant had gone home). I sat on the bed and cried. A nurse came in and asked what was wrong and I tried to explain. She said to me ‘write it all down.’ So I did, I’m glad I did – as you can see some of my days / times are mixed up now. This is what I wrote on the scrap of paper I had (note the operation referred to was an outpatients op for a lump on my shoulder, a biopsy):

“- came in Thursday a.m. due to Bell’s Palsy. I could have gone to G.P. but I chose triage.
- on Thursday I was v. scared & had been for 24 hours & just had operation so high b.p. & hadn’t been sleeping.
- after medication & day sleeping started feeling better, agreed to spend 1 night here.
- on Friday a.m. was told I could go by doctor & do 24 hr urine collection at home. Packed my stuff, then midwife came up and told me registrar said no I had to stay 1 more night.
- on Saturday a.m. doctor came in and said I had to stay till Monday!
- on Saturday p.m. midwife said the doctor might let me go tomorrow cause bp was ok. Then I had to have more tablets even though it wasn’t that high.
- on Sunday no doctor came so had to stay. Had to have tablet. Don’t want tablets. Now my bp is getting higher because I want to go home & eat proper food & sleep in my bed & talk to my family before I come back on Wednesday for pre-op. I can’t sleep here now. 1-2 nights was helpful, this is making me feel worse now. Home please.

The food seems a silly point but I am vegetarian and had eaten little more than jacket potatoes for 4 days, no fruit was available most mealtimes unless you got there quick. ALL the tea and coffee was caffeinated. It was awful food, one day the cook actually phoned down to the kitchens to ask the best before date on the pudding because it looked so awful.

Eventually someone showed up and discharged me with tablets in hand at 10 pm! on the condition I returned on the following morning, I had to wear an ambulatory bp monitor for 24 hours (I had already started that as the outpatients thought I was being discharged and had efficiently set that up in the morning.) I also had to do a 24 hour urine collection. They forgot all about that until I reminded them as I was about to leave so it ended up being a 12 hour collection only (this was a protein check).

I went home, took my pills, and wore my monitor. On Tuesday morning I returned, my monitor reading showed I was fine, in fact my bp was too low. A consultant was asked for advice and apparently told to nurse to tell me to throw my pills away, that I shouldn’t be taking them. I actually didn’t throw them away, just left them in my bag. I was told to return the following day for pre-op tests.

Heart-breakingly when I returned the following afternoon they made me stay overnight, the night before the section, no choice or discussion. Many times in the previous week the words ‘allow’, ‘have to’, ‘make you’ were used in reference to my stay in hospital, treatment or medication. It hurts because I didn’t want to argue with them for the sake of my babies, but at the end of the day I could have walked out at anytime, why did it have to seem like a prison? This was supposed to be a happy, if scary, time, and it was starting to be just plain terrifying.

I was taken to a ward and just ‘plonked there’. It was the night before the delivery. My husband had to go home get my stuff. I sat on the bed and sobbed. I didn’t even care who was listening anymore. This ward was a sad place, no one came to offer help or smile, not to me or anyone else, for hours. I hadn’t been able to eat since I had come in, and after midnight I was nil by mouth (actually the nurses couldn’t decide if I was allowed water or not). Luckily Robin bought me some snacks before being ushered out at 10pm. Some family members were allowed to stay with some patients as long as they liked, others weren’t, it was very unfair.

There was nothing caring or dignified about my treatment in the morning. I was told I would be prepared for my section early, 8am ish, but not when the op might be. First thing I was woken up and jostled into the dressings, taped up etc… and told you’re first! I was terrified and Robin wasn’t there yet!

****

Robin did arrive in time. I was moved from the ward to a delivery suite, and waited in there for what seemed forever with Robin. I couldn’t get comfortable. From time to time someone would come in and ask me something. At one point my blood pressure was taken and the nurse/doctor said “we’ll just pretend we didn’t see that, it’s a bit high”.

Eventually I was taken into theatre, Robin had to wait outside. There were so many people in there. I was told to sit on the bed and they kept telling me to lean forward while they tried to inject me in the back. I really couldn’t, my bump was too big, it was so painful even trying. It took them a long time to inject me. I remember being told to lie down and feeling my legs go numb. I remember the anesthetist asking me if I could feeling anything and I said I could feel him poke me a little, and he said actually I’m pinching you very hard. Robin came in a little later. I was asked how I felt, I told them I was terrified. I counted at least 14 people in the room besides us. I didn’t really feel them cut into me, I was chatting to Robin and he was looking behind the curtain and telling me what they were doing to me. It was all relatively ok, I mean scary and a little odd feeling at times, but ok. Then I coughed a little and after I coughed the air out I couldn’t breathe it back in, I coughed again, I couldn’t breathe in, I tried to tell Robin I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t have enough breath. I remember him telling the anesthetists I couldn’t breathe, apparently they told him I was fine until he really insisted. I remember feeling myself losing consciousness, I was dying I thought. I remember an oxygen mask being shoved on my face and for one millisecond before I went under I thought “they will save me, they know I can’t breathe!” Then I passed out, Robin passed out too. When I came round I saw them lift Niah over the curtain and show me his bloody, waxy, wrinkled little head. I was in a bit of a dream state. I saw Robin (he had it seems passed out twice as he was convinced I was dead, the second time after they handed him Arlo, and he handed him back to the nurse “take him, take him!”) holding Arlo in a blanket next to my head. Then I heard crying and someone handed me Niah all wrapped up cozy. I don’t know how I managed to hold him, but I didn’t drop him I just stared at him in disbelief – Robin said ‘that’s Niah’ and I asked if he was sure and he told me he was because he was at the top. Then someone took him away and gave me Arlo. I looked at him and said ‘you’re funny lookin’’.

After that were stitches and cuddles and Robin tried to tell me what had happened. No one really knows and the closest thing I’ve found to it is this:

http://bja.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/content/full/85/3/474

It was during stitching that I knew something was wrong. It started to hurt – REALLY hurt, even though I was still anaesthetized. By the time they had finished (about 30 mins later) I was in agony. I was taken into the recovery room and I had people all around me pumping me full of morphine and asking me how I felt on a scale of 1 – 10. Two of the anesthetists stayed with me for quite a long time and came back regularly to check. They were outstanding individuals. I think Robin was there most of the time, and I remember my tiny babies being in a crib at my side. I remember the midwife asking if I wanted to breast-feed or whether she should give them a bottle. I told her to give them a bottle but luckily before she did she asked again if I wanted to try to breastfeed. I was in absolute agony and high on morphine but I said ok and she latched Niah onto my breast. The first time my mom saw me was about 4 hours after the operation had begun and Niah was on my breast feeding like it was the easiest thing in the world to do for a tiny tiny baby. The boys were born just before 11:30am and my parents had been at the hospital since 7:30am, mom didn’t see me until about 3:30pm, and my dad not until a couple of hours after that. They had sat in the canteen from 7:30 until 1pm not knowing if I was alive or dead in utter silence. I remember my mom telling me weeks after how they had nothing to say to each other. They didn’t know what to say. They were so scared. Then Robin had come out after the babies were born and found them. He was ashen grey and started to cry and told them he thought he had lost me. This part of the story is no memory of mine but makes me so emotional. That they love me so much and were so scared to lose me, and my babies they didn’t even know yet.

I was in so much discomfort that afternoon and all through the night. I slept in the recovery room. There was another woman and her family on the other side of the curtain. I was alone after my family went home and lying at a 45% angle with a tube inside me and blood soaked sheets, pads etc… I couldn’t move at all. I had to ring for help every time I wanted to feed my babies. I couldn’t bend or twist or lift my body even an inch.

Throughout the night the midwife, and then the next midwife, tried to latch Arlo on, but he struggled. He never really got the hang of it. I drifted in and out of morphine-hazed sleep until the following morning. I guess Robin arrived at some point, my memory is vague. Anyway, by morning they allowed me to drink and eat, it had been over 24 hours since I had, although I had a drip. I was so thirsty. The first thing I really remember was arrangements being made to take me to a ward. Ward 3. I remember a couple of orderlies rolling/lifting me across to another bed and screaming in pain. Well I say screaming but I hold it in very well, more like moaning I guess. I wish I had screamed, really loud, but I didn’t want to make a fuss. I was pushed on this bed along corridors and in lifts. It was so painful. No one was careful not to hurt me. I just knew they had no idea how much pain I was in. It wasn’t just the scar, my sciatica from the pregnancy was excruciating.

Ok, the next 4 or 5 days are a mess of memories. Excuse me if they warp time a little. Not long, less than an hour after arriving at the ward a couple of … I thought nurses but my mom and Robin think they were orderlies, not sure… came in and said they had to get me moving. I remember crying that I couldn’t, I remember being forced out of bed. I remember my parents and Robin being told to leave the room ( and they did and to this day suffer awful awful guilt that they trusted these ‘people’). I remember that I could hardly walk and I was shuffled / led / guided out of my room AND they left my babies behind. They made me leave the room leaving my babies unattended, after having made my family vacate?! The distance from my room to the shower unit was probably 20 metres, it was through one ward, across to the opposite one, and through that. It took me about 20 minutes / half an hour to get there. I was made to walk crying (not forgetting my palsied face (I had Bell’s Palsy – I’ll write about that later) that couldn’t speak without drooling), with a catheter inside me and hanging down, with blood dripping down my legs, with a gown open up the back, in the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life, through two wards of patients – husbands, fathers, children saw me. Some looked horrified, I remember that. I felt like a freak. I was in so much pain. The one nurse/orderly kept saying how she had had so many children and it wasn’t that bad, and then pointed at some woman on a bed saying that she had had a section and wasn’t making a fuss.

The shower unit was next to the open door to the ward. I was taken in, catheter removed and stood next to a chair so I could support myself and stripped off. The shower was turned on. The door was left open. just feet away were husbands / fathers. I was told to pull the cord when I was done and then left alone. I just stood there holding on to that chair. Every part of my body hurt so much I just wanted to keep it all still. Movement was pain and the walk from my room had almost made me pass out with pain already. After maybe 5 mins of crying under that shower and just letting the water wash over me I gingerly reached for the cord and called for help (WHY COULDN’T MY MUM OR MY HUSBAND HAVE HELPED ME SHOWER IF IT WAS SO IMPORTANT – they just left me there anyway). I was dried and wrapped in a gown and walked back . Another long, long, painful degrading walk…

****

The next few days were the longest and vaguest days of my life. Niah was taken into NNU for jaundice and I spent a night with only Arlo. I cried with love for my babies. I ate little. A multitude of midwives / nurses / lactation experts gave me conflicting advice – like little whispers in the ears ‘well she said might have said that you should do this but I think that you should …’ It was so bizarre. A couple of things that stand out as weird and unhelpful:

My mom was bringing me in flasks of decaffeinated tea and coffee. There were a couple of staff who would make me hot chocolate or decaffeinated, but most refused saying there wasn’t any. Every day she stayed all day and evening and one day brought in some teabags so she could make more tea, the staff there refused to let her fill her flask on the grounds of health and safety. No hot water in the rooms! But they brought in tea and coffee? This was inconsistent. I hadn’t eaten much and was very hungry, and also breasg-feeding. The food was pretty bad, very processed and very little vegetable content. My husband bought me in some simple pasta and sauce in a tub and asked if he could heat it up for me and was told flatly no. Another nurse who overheard mentioned on aside that there was a public microwave downstairs he could use and bring it back up. Stupid rules or unhelpful staff? I don’t know.
On the second or third night Niah was admitted to NNU because of his jaundice so they could put him on the ‘sunbed’ for 24 hours. I have to mention that the NNU staff were some of the nicest people I have met, going way beyond the call of duty at all times. I was having to go down 2 floors (in a wheelchair) every 3 hours to feed him. On returning I was having to cup feed Arlo and then pump more milk for his next feed (Arlo was a poor feeder and had wrecked my nipples – feeding Niah was painful but doable). The midwife in charge told my mum to go chat with the night staff before she left and ask them to wake me when I needed to go down and organize a porter with wheelchair. She did this and was greeting with the reply “wake her? Doesn’t she have a mobile phone?” I did, I didn’t think I should use it. Most of the night staff were lovely – the one that said this was one of the two who ‘showered me’. Another member of staff at the desk said she would do it.
I was asked by the same midwife (a lovely lady who was also lactation expert) if I needed any help with the twins one morning. I said I would like someone to help me bathe them, maybe the next day. She said that was no problem. The next day I asked the midwife that came in and she looked shocked and said “Do you need someone to give you a demonstration?” I said no (I am a trained nursery nurse, teacher, and experienced care assistant) that I just needed help because there was two babies and I still couldn’t move much. She said “well we don’t usually do that I’ll see if anyone is free” No one ever came. My mom and dad came in later and they went and found the bathroom and bathed them for me. I really wanted to do this (with help) I wanted to be proud and show my parents “look what I’ve done for myself” I was in such a pathetic state. I remember the first morning I managed to dress them on my own, it took ages and I was in such pain but I was so pleased with myself.
The same lactation expert tried very hard to start me off on a feeding routine of 3 hours, but whenever she was out of sight these 2 other midwives would come in and start telling me to break the routine and feed the babies. No one asked me ever if I wanted to demand feed or not, and I was being given totally conflicting advice. I snapped by this point and told one of the midwives she was being irresponsible – I said if they had differing ideas on how my babies should be fed they needed to sort that out amongst themselves before talking to me. I was totally fed up by this time.

I eventually went home, but by this time I had seen 14 different doctors / consultants, and more midwives than I can remember. My own consultant didn’t turn up to see me until the night before I left, and only after the registrar had been called by my husband and we had made a complaint. I know full well that I had gained the reputation as a difficult patient by the time I left. I know there were people I had snapped at wrongly too. It all boils down to that first awful experience in the shower for me. There were many other less than great aspects to my treatment, but that dehumanized me. Less than human. That was how they treated me and how they made me feel. After that point I could not begin to recover my self respect until I was back home. Unfortunately the bad experience probably contributed greatly (so they say) to my PND which deprived me of the precious memories of the first 2 months of my babies lives. When I reported it the day before I left there were several issues of which the ward manager was ‘aware’ such as a very rude orderly which she described as ‘an ongoing issue’. There was more to come when I went home and found myself in the hands of the local midwives, and to be honest I was never going to be an easy patient now – I had lost all trust. I don’t know why it had to be this way. I know there were other people having problems on the ward too, I suppose my problems were magnified by me having twins and a C section. The last thing the registrar said to me was “I hope this hasn’t put you off having more children” and I answered honestly (I always do) “actually it has”. At my age I don’t intend to have more, but if I found myself pregnant I would do whatever I had to, to pay for private treatment next time.

I remember when I got home late at night lying on the bed just sobbing and sobbing and the words ‘less than human’ going round and round in my head. They let me out telling me that a midwife would be at my house in the morning to check the jaundice and if it was not improved they would resubmit me – I was terrified. The lactation expert said “go home and feed them LOTS and LOTS, the food will stop the jaundice. The next morning the midwife (and trainee?) turned up unannounced early in the morning – the boys were fine. I, however wasn’t, my bp was sky high and I was at risk of stroke apparently. They told me I had to go back – but I didn’t take the babies with me, I left them with my parents. I went to triage, took whatever medication they had to offer and refused flatly to ever spend another night in that place.

At the end of the day the NHS gave me my beautiful boys and for that I am eternally grateful, but I wish my first memories of bringing them into this world hadn’t been like this. The photo of them is just yesterday – their 3rd big boy bathtime and my parents house (we only have a shower).

…completed writing this on 13th August 2009, when the boys were almost 7 months.

Choosing the breast-feeder…

I have been asked many times, in places such as playgroup, why it is that I breastfeed one twin and formula feed the other. I hate the term formula feed, actually it’s mostly cow’s milk, my midwife didn’t know that – I think she thought is was made from magical sprinkly pixie dust or something… I have even been asked how I chose which baby to breastfeed – the assumptions being that a) I chose and b) I believed that the breast-feeding was a better option that the ‘formula’ feeding. I think I’ll write it formula from now on. I think people just ask from curiosity, I have never been criticised. In fact it is kind of hard to criticise, most people actually say they don’t know how I have managed to breast feed either. Most people seem in awe of any mother of twins, and at playgroup I am known as supermom?! just because I have two babies and I deal with them on my own. It’s not super to me – I don’t know anything else, but my husband and myself have mentioned to one another many times how easy it would be to have one now we’ve have had two (I always have to add ‘it depends which one’ Arlo is a bit *cough* more demanding than Niah). Anyway I thought I would put my reasons and findings for how I feed my boys right here so that if anyone asks again I don’t have to repeat myself and they can get a decent explanation. I hope that those reading may offer me their insight as always.

So let’s start at the beginning, this could be a long one … (my mom is due any minute to pick up the boys and take them for a couple of days, and I have just got them both to nap (AT THE SAME TIME!!!!!) on some cushions, so it’s bound to be written in several chunks.

Ok – babies safely packed off to my folks, I miss them already but boy do I need a break.

Before they were born I had read loads of books, leaflets, websites about breast-feeding. I had watched the ‘official’ DVD. I never had any intention of not breast-feeding. I never questioned the information I was given.

On the day they were born I had a planned, yet horrific C Section, that’s another story. I had already spent a week in hospital and could see that things were not working out how I had planned or imagined it. Birth plans? Ha! It was so clinical and I felt as if I was on a delivery conveyor belt. I know a multiple birth is always higher risk, but it went from the sublime to the ridiculous – from a mass of people taking care of me to get the babies out, to suddenly being literally dumped in a ward and refused help. After the birth I was very high on morphine and in extreme pain – the midwife asked if I wanted to breastfeed – I was very confused and uncomfortable and I said no, luckily she asked again and I said ok I’ll try. I remember passing in and out of sleep feeding these tiny babies. I remember her helping me latch them on. I remember that Niah pretty much did it himself and that Arlo couldn’t. I remember over the next few days several midwives tried to latch Arlo on and he couldn’t. I remember being told to give them one breast each and Arlo lost weight – a LOT more than he should have (he couldn’t latch on and also he was on my left breast which has never produced much milk). I remember hardly being able to move from pain but having to feed Niah and then express milk for Arlo then feed him. This was made worse when Niah was taken down to NNU for jaundice and I was going down in a wheelchair to feed him, coming back to express and feed Arlo and ending up with 10 minutes before the next feed. It was a blur!

Despite all this I persevered. I wish I hadn’t as it most certainly contributed to my PND, but I did, no one suggested any other option. One midwife did say about ‘topping them up’ with formula but to be honest I thought I shouldn’t because the literature I had read before had said clearly – DON’T BE TEMPTED TO SUPPLEMENT WITH FORMULA, DON’T BE TEMPTED TO KEEP IT IN THE HOUSE JUST IN CASE.

I wish I could find the idiot that wrote that. How irresponsible. I will hopefuly explain why I feel this way below.

I went home after almost a week through plea-bargaining, and was in in so much pain with every feed that I dreaded it. I bought nipple shields, a breast pump, found that I hence needed a sterilising unit – another thing I apparently wouldn’t need – another fictional advantage of breast-feeding. Total rubbish. I needed to express and I needed sterile equipment.

I continued to breast-feed Niah and express for Arlo.

It was my birthday 2 weeks after I left and my parents came over and said they would stay the night and I could go out with Robin. To think of that night makes me want to cry. I was so confused and depressed I couldn’t believe I could go out again! I didn’t have the time to express enough milk, obviously. Robin went out and bought some formula in cartons, luckily I had actually bought bottles, no idea why but they were sitting on my shelf in the boxes. I remember him saying ‘this is ridiculous! I’m giving them a bottle, you can’t do this on your own’. or something to that effect.

Shortly after that my depression got much worse and I moved in with my parents for I thought a week, but ending up being almost 2 months. I breast fed both babies for about a month exclusively, only giving formula when Robin came up to visit and take me out.

I played with the idea of stopping breast-feeding. It hurt less and less but I seemed to be doing it constantly as Arlo was never satisified. (I wasn’t sticking to the ‘one boob each’ thing anymore) Niah was a dream from the start. Everyone I spoke to was really supportive, except anyone from the NHS that is. I knew dozens of recent or current baby moms and only one that was still breast-feeding. They had the utmost admiration for me even attempting to breast feed twins. Nothing but support! But I cried, I felt guilty, I ploughed on for that first month which seemed like an eternity.

I don’t know when I made the decision to introduce formula regularly but it was pretty much evenly for both babies. I was staying with my folks and they were having one baby in their room at night so I was breast feeding Niah in the day and Arlo at night for a week and then vice versa for the following week. At about 3 months of age my parents were going to Spain so I came back home, I didnt know if it would be permanent or not – I was on anti-depressants by then. Actually before I came home when I was first given the medication I was unhappy about feeding them because of this and gave up breast-feeding for a week. Then I panicked and started again, my family were surprised but I just couldn’t give it up. I knew these would be my last children and I wasn’t ready to never breast feed again. It was more about me than the babies perhaps at this point. By the time I came home we had discovered that with formula Arlo was able to sleep 5 hours at a time through the night and so my mom suggested I keep him on formula, which I did.

Still Niah was feeding 2 hourly and there were many times I was crying from sheer exhaustion.

To jump to now – I still prepare to stop breast-feeding every few weeks, only 2 weeks ago in spain I sat and cried and gave Niah his final feed, and then carried on! At the moment Arlo is in his own room, well not exactly – his dad moved in with him! and for the first time since I had them I look forward to bed times again, I used to hate it. I miss Robin but I have a nice little time with Niah in ‘our’ room. I breast feed Niah about 50% of the time, mostly through the night and he still manages to sleep 8 – 12 hours now without waking, but I do top him up if I think he hasn’t had enough at the breast. I try to give Arlo at least one breast feed a day but its more for comfort than anything else as he is so rubbish he just licks my nipple and waits for it to end up in his mouth. (Yes this is the same Arlo that could devour a whole corn on the cob at 5 1/2 months.) I am still a breast-feeding mom but all in all use more formula than breast-feeding AT THE MOMENT. I’m keeping my options open.

The point is that actually I have two very happy healthy boys and it really doesn’t matter AT ALL. I wish in so many ways that I had never breast fed at all – I would have had such a less stressful 6 months. But having said that I do love breast-feeding very much and am proud that I perservered. However, I am angry, angry at the misinformation, the lack of support, the pressure, the lies, the guilt. Angry because it really didn’t make a difference. I am equally bonded with both my boys, but my husband is massively bonded with Arlo due to having responsibiity for his feeding for so long. Both my boys are equally healthy, and Arlo is actually developmentally a little ahead – he is crawling already! I’m angry because I really honestly believe that the push on breast-feeding is purely political and has NOTHING to do with what’s best for us moms, and hence our babies because what’s best for us is best for them. A happy mom is what’s paramount. I don’t believe anyone could argue against that.

I need to post about the total b******s that is called ‘nipple confusion’ next. Tune in same time tomorrow.

Nipple Confusion or a sneaky ploy …

Yes as it sounds I have my conspiracy theory hat on again, only a bit though, it’s at a sexy tilt.

Firstly, I wanted to do this journal entry days ago but we all have a rotten cold, Robin is on the tail end of it now, but the boys and me, we are like snot factories and pretty wiped out. Still, I’m going to do my best. The fabulous people in the 2009 Mummies Daddies group (like the sneaky bit of advertising there) have given me loads of food for thought, they are a feisty bunch that lot, and super smart.

The themes I will consider (chunk by hefty chunk (this is by no means ‘correct’ but my take on it as I understand (and I love nested brackets))):

The theory…

That babies who are given bottles or pacifiers too early may prefer these to the nipple. In the case of teats, that they are easier to feed from than the nipple which uses more jaw muscle. In the case of pacifiers I have no idea – it provides no milk and I think a baby might notice that.

The facts…

Well the facts are tricky, I have read several articles, including here on BabyCentre and there doesn’t seem to be a definative answer. It seems that all the midwives and health visitors are sure it is a huge problem, but a bit of research on some of the more respectable sites on the Internet reveal that it is by no means a proven phenomenon.

Combination feeding…

Many people, including myself have successfully introduced a bottle very early on, in my case within a couple of weeks, the pacifier even sooner. I have seen no evidence of nipple confusion with either of my babies. I have asked others their opinions and overwhelmingly folks have said the same or, that they wish they had ignored the advice to prevent bottle refusal.

What if it’s true?

Well if it is true and proven, and certainly even if it does exist it obviously is not a problem for all babies or even a sizable majority, but if it is a problem for some – does that mean we should still heed the advice, are we storing up problems for later?

The Scare tactics…

Are health visitors (in particular) using nipple confusion as a scare tactice to force people to breast feed for longer, to not give in? If this is true it may be that they don’t know they are doing this? They follow instructions from above – maybe they really believe it is proven.

The Agendas…

Everyone has an agenda, the baby food companies for sure! This push on breast-feeding (and the little teeny one on BLW) is flushing a hunk of their profits down the pan. But who else has an agenda? Well the NHS of course… they have targets to meet, whether these are self-set to battle obesity, or because of European league tables, I don’t know (yet!) but for sure they have an agenda far beyond what is best for us mums. In short, ALL the research I could find was either possibly biased or airy fairy opinionated. I’m not sure I found any ‘evidence’ Please show me some someone (Sam Marika showed me some interesting stuff about pre-terms and pacifiers suggesting it doesn’t exist.)

Thanks Sam for this.

An Irresponsible Suggestion

I’m going to be lazy as hell and copy paste one of my reply comments from ‘Choosing the breast-feeder’

“Actually I was chatting with my husband about this particular piece of advice yesterday (the twins were at my parents overnight and we were at the pub getting VERY drunk). It’s not only bad advice it, it is downright irresponsible and dangerous as you have just illustrated. Suppose the worse case scenario – someone lives in a fairly remote location, mum gets seriously ill, perhaps goes out for the evening and gets into an accident. Dad is left at home with no method of feeding that baby, maybe dad can’t get to a store, maybe dad can’t drive, maybe there is a babysitter there. In underdeveloped countries yes a baby in this situation would possible suffer or worse, but THERE IS NO EXCUSE for a child in the UK to be at risk because of no access to food. It’s quite simply ridiculous.”

Weaning off the boob…

I could quote dozens of moms here but I’ll give the example of a friend from Play & Stay as it’s fairly standard explanation of the issues here… This lady, let’s call her Rabina, has an 8 month old, let’s call her Preet. She breast-fed Preet for 6 months, that was her personal target – at 6 months she introduced the bottle and was faced with blood-curdling screams and is still trying 2 months later to get her to take any amount at all. She has not spent more than 1 hour away from Preet in 8 months because of this. She needs to go back to work soon. Preet still wakes every three hours for a breast-feed at night. Nuff said.

And if it does exist? so what!

If it does exist and cause some babies to have trouble latching on? Well firstly we need to know how many this affects before we can decide if it’s something we need to worry about, but beyond this – what about the benefits of introducing a bottle that have been mentioned above – the sleep for mom (and baby), the safety in case mom suddenly can’t feed, dad taking some of the strain, dad (and others) getting to feed and bond with the baby, mom not being able to have a night off, a night out, heck a weekend off (my wonderful parents have the twins for 2 nights a week – I really wouldn’t like to be packing my boobs along with all their other stuff you know).

In Conclusion – my thoughts…

I don’t believe it. I think it’s a scare tactic from those at the top who want to win brownie points for us in European league tables. I think everyone should introduce a bottle (and pacifier if they want) AS SOON AS possible to avoid other problems. Let’s not forget the possible lowered risk of SIDS for pacifier users (that’s a whole new post).

An Independent Baby

It took me a while to get around to writing my journal today, despite all the fantastically intelligent comments I received, a few people it seems were offended by my last entry. Most people seemed to realise this was not my intention but you can’t please all of the people etc… I am sorry if I genuinely upset anyone. to cut a long story short I am no longer a member of one board (BOOT!) and have prepared myself for further dismissals by setting up my own group where debate can continue (2009 mummies and daddies if your interested – small but nicely packaged, I would say “like me” here but I have a little more package than I like after the twins). ANYWAY – I am almost forcing myself to write this entry (I need wine to help, that’s how bad it is) because I know me and if I slow down I’ll stop. I was thinking about Independence in small babies for a long time. My two are very independent for 6 month olds, everyone comments on this. Why? I didn’t really aim for it, I am a teacher and I guess independence is something we aim for in our students? I am an only child and a very independent person. I guess it was natural they would turn out that way. I tried to dissect what I have done to make them this way, intentionally or otherwise. I guess the nature of twins makes them a bit more independent – you can’t run to them everytime they cry, you may be dealing with the other one. When feeding one child and the other starts creating you have a choice to: a) carry on with baby 1 and ignore baby 2, b) tend to baby 2 and risk baby 1 getting pissed off c) juggle babies 1 and 2, d) stick them both in the playpen, sit on the toilet and cry. I can’t tell you which of these works better – at different times I do different things – but one constant remains – I cannot give 2 babies 100% of my attention at the same time – I get close, but they will never be the centre of my attention together, if you know what I mean. I think this has made them so patient already, especially Niah, Arlo is a way more demanding baby and Niah has developed this great personality which enables him to wait. For that reason I try extra hard not to make him wait to long. I know twin mummies come up with many ingenious methods of dealing with their babies at the same tme – I recently found out about podee bottles. My personal method was to buy bottle handles and teach them how to hold their own bottles at 2-3 months. Funny thing is now they really don’t like anyone else taking control of their feeding. My parents look after the twins most weekends and my mom likes to feed them the standard way, they really struggle to take the bottle from her and show her ‘look I can put it in and take it out when I want’. I’ve created a monster (2 monsters), their favourite feeding positions is lying on their backs self-feeding. They know when they need to stop for a breath and when they are finished (and occasionally swap bottles cause the grass is obviously greener …Niah is now combination fed so has bottles also during the day). Anyone who looks on would probably think – what a lazy mother! But it’s what they have chosen – they have independently shown me that they like this way. Arlo will crawl over to a bottle that is on the carpet, grab it, roll over and start feeding. I have to make sure old milk isn’t left lying around. I do wonder if this is the right thing. I don’t know. But my boys are happy and very calm, the 3 of us go out and do BLW lunch all the time, if you’re ever in Solihull town centre look out for a disheveled looking woman with two small babies sitting at a table eating ciabattas and having a baby-led chat!

The Breast Feeding Myth pt 4

Breast Feeding: Nature vs Society

what is natural anyway for humans?

Breast-feeding is natural yes, but does natural equal right, for us? What is natural about the way human beings live? We poo in toilets, wear fake fur, have our hair cut in fancy pants styles, live in concrete and glass boxes, and whizz around the place on wheels to mention just a few of the things that NO other animals do. We are discouraged from doing the ‘natural’ thing when it comes to giving birth – and shuffled into a hospital and have varying degrees of intervention. Natural is bringing up your own children along with your family; natural is catching, killing and preparing your own food; natural means less security, more risk, less complication. Our lives aren’t natural anymore, is it any surprise this remaining ‘natural’ endeavour is so very very difficult for so many? I don’t think so. What is a surprise to me however, is how we treat those women who struggle to be natural, but only in this one area of their lives.

The Breast Feeding Myth pt 3

Reasons to Breast Feed unravelled

what do you think?

what have you been told?

are these all true?

any others?

Top however many Reasons to Breastfeed

1. Increases Baby’s IQ
2. Helps mom lose that baby fat.
3. Breastfed babies are less likely to die of SIDS.
4. Reduced allergies for breastfed babies.
5. Breastfeeding burns calories!
6. Formula increases the risk of diabetes (type I).
7. Cancers decrease with breastfeeding too.
8. Breastfeeding lowers the risk of obesity.
9. Breast milk is the world’s most perfect food:
10. Creates strong bonds:
11. Formula costs the government (and taxpayers) millions of dollars
12. That’s what breasts are for:
13. Its convenient and cost efficient.
14. Benefits maternal health.
15. Its recommended by top health officials:
16. It is good for babies’ tummies:
17. Baby’s suckling helps shrink mother’s uterus after childbirth
18. Breastfeeding enhances vaccine effectiveness
19. Breastfeeding is easier than using formula
20. Breastfed babies require fewer doctor visits

The Breast Feeding Myth pt 2

It’s way harder for us the breast feed these days.

Unlike years gone by, and tribal societies around the world, we tend to live a fair distance from our famlies these days, most of us don’t live with extended families (this varies culturally). We don’t live in communities where everyone helps out, not on the whole anyway. Imagine back to a simpler way of life. Maybe I would sit there breast feeding all day and all night, around the fire pit, but you can be damn sure I would have people around me to make sure I got fed, that my other children got fed. You can be damn sure I wouldn’t have to feed the cats, vac the floor, go pay the council tax, get the car MOTed, get the nappies washed etc etc etc… We have a heap more to do these days, not to mention going back to work and expressing while there – that’s a whole new ball game. I may not even have had to breast feed, my community may have had a wet nurse who would feed my child if I wasn’t too good at it. If my child couldn’t latch on well it would have failed to survive, no one would criticised my technique and force me through nipple pain hell and back. Thank God we don’t lose our babies because they can’t breast feed for what ever reason. Thank God for alternative options.

The Breast-Feeding Myth pt1

Ideas for what I’m putting together:

- It’s way harder for us to breast-feed these days

* family support and distance
* roles within the community
* housework
* jobs
* wet nursing
* failure to thrive

- Bonding

* photos of beautiful breast -feeding and bottle-feeding moments
* no difference
* advantages to bottle feeding and bonding

- independence

* BLW
* twins

- nature vs our society

* what is natural anyway for humans?
* preparation for our society

- lies lies lies / pressure / guilt

* women CAN change their minds later, affect your flow my ass
* Midwives and the contradictions
* nipple confusion crap
* babies not taking the bottle
* the beauty of combination feeding
* why is the NHS REALLY encouraging breast0feeding?
* is formula worse?
* the breast-feeding facts that aren’t actually facts at all
* – weight loss
* – breast cancer
* – IQ
* – what else

If you are reading this and have any opinions please feel free to comment, I will value it – but no pro-breast-feeding rants please, I am not anti-breast-feeding, I have breast fed one of my twins for 6 months, it’s just we’ve all heaqrd it all before, over and over and over … I’m interested in facts and stories of positive formula / combination feeding.