Today I have that horrible nervous tumbling inside. It's weighing day and it's tongue snipping day.
Oh how I hate those scales, the way his tiny pink body reacts to the cold plastic and he flings out his arms instinctively. The dread in the pit of my stomach as I wait for the digital readout to settle.
I can hear my voice in my head from the old me, waffling something about "watching the baby not the scales", but the truth is he lost a *lot* of weight. (I stopped remembering after the first 1lb).
My poor wee baby was only getting enough calories to keep himself alive. I'm ashamed I didn't notice. The shock that he was here and alive was clouding my vision.
The shock is slowly lifting, and I even found myself looking forward the other day.Only into next month, and only for a moment, but I told Woody and he said he'd done the same thing too, for the first time since Florence was born.
Yesterday we managed to fit a walk in the park into our pumping and feeding schedule. We went to a local National Trust park. (We promised the big ones ice cream.)
I wasn't prepared for the smiles and admiring looks and comments and questions from passers by as they spotted Ernest snuggled in his sling.
I felt so exposed and so close to tears, they can't see Florence, they can't see all that has gone before, all that brought this beautiful baby to us. Why should they?
Oh my goodness, how that hurts though. I can't even really explain how.
All I know is I wanted to just hold him even tighter, and shield him from the world.
Before we left the park,I breastfed Ernest in the car and then he needed his bottle of mama milk, and I hid below the dashboard. I didn't want anyone to see I was bottlefeeding.
I am ashamed that we are struggling, and I know that I shouldn't be. Lots of people struggle, and there's no shame in that, but I do feel like I'm failing at something I was always so very good at.
Maybe it's the hormones, or maybe it's the shadow of a dead baby, but it's shame I feel.
I guess I just have to feel it and then let it go, and get on with dealing with the problem.
The tongue snip is this afternoon. I'm hoping for the miracle feeding solution I keep reading about, but I'm realistic. Ernest's tongue tie is not severe, but it's impacting enough to cause problems, so the snip is advised.
I can hope though, right?
Hope has kept me going this past year. x