Category: Parenthood

My son is a happy healthy 9 months old. Around 6 months of age, I decided to phase out breastfeeding and introduce formula.  I am often asked the questions – when and how – and here is the just of it.

Firstly let me say to me breastfeeding was an important part of my mothering journey and I am so blessed that I got to feed my child in this way.  However, I must confess that when those first few teeth started making their appearance – I started considering whether it wasn’t the best time to make the move.  As cute as those little munchers were, I did not want to experience the dreaded nipple bite!

There was also the reality that I was starting to feel very tied down by the breastfeeding thing. I was not one to feed in public mostly because my child hated being covered, that said we made it work when it was necessary. The bigger issue was having to be there with my child as and when he needed to feed – for however long that took – every time.  There was also ensuring that I had expressed enough milk for him.  It was becoming more demanding and I was starting to feel drained.  

So, it was New Year’s Day and I bought formula. No better time to start something new right? I felt that my son had received a good base and I started with one bottle feed a day along with breastfeeding.  I had already introduced the bottle to him around 8 weeks so that he would be OK being fed by his dad, so fortunately him taking a bottle was not going to be an issue. 

I enjoyed the ease of mixing the milk.  I would position my boy snuggly on my lap while he happily drank the bottle. He even learnt to hold the bottle within no time.  We were both enjoying this new found freedom. So much so that before I knew it, one bottle a day turned into two and true to form my breastmilk supply started to decrease. Breastmilk feeds went from mornings and evenings feeds, to only in the evening.

I recall the day that I realised I had almost completely dried up.  I think he was around seven and a half months.  We were lying on the bed getting ready for a nap and he nuzzled close to my breast – the same fashion way he used to before.  At this stage, I was only feeding him formula, but I think he could still smell the teeny tiny bit of milk that I had left. So I thought, why not and offered him my breast. He latched and suckled for a minute or two, enjoying the last few sips of that sweet natural nectar. I recall at that moment the feeling of both sadness and satisfaction.  I had given my baby the best foundation possible by doing what I could to ensure that he was breastfed – and now we are done.

My son is quite a stocky little boy and till today I get asked about his weight.  When I respond that he is weighing 12.5kgs, the question that most often follows is “did I breastfeed?”.  My response to that is always met with a knowing nod, which I find really amusing. Regardless, we are on our solid food journey and before I know it I will be able to get rid of the baby bottles and formula feeds! Well, that’s until the next mini me comes along. A true testimony to the every changing life of a new mom.

Dear Friend, 

I hope you understand that my life is so different now.  You remember – you were here once, although, I know it was years ago.  I had no choice but to wait until the time was ready for me to start a family. I was so excited when I joined the mommy-team, but some days it still feels like we struggle to relate as you are out of the baby phase already, and gladly so.

You were here once…

I hope you understand that my life takes so much more planning these days. Last year this time I could, at a whim, come over to visit with you; grab a drink (albeit a non-alcoholic one); go to the movies without much planning; do brunches or dinners with the girls. Now any of these tasks require coordination around nap times and feed times.

I hope you understand that now I have with me this little person who needs me, and I am torn.  To be honest, I miss all those fun, on-the-fly things we used to do. Now I have a stronger pull to be there for my baby above all else and to put his needs above my own.  It isn’t always easy – but deep down I know its best.

I hope you understand that there is this internal tension inside of me.  Sometimes I long for those days – those carefree times.  Where I only needed to consider myself.  I could go where I wanted when I wanted, near or far, regardless of the weather.  Oh dear, I don’t even remember what those days and it’s only been just under a year.

I hope you understand that sometimes I struggle to relate when our lives seem to have taken a slightly different shape.  Those days when we spoke about our career goals and the latest trends, now I am a stay at home mom and the only trend is tights and a mom bun. I try and find common ground – please know that I am trying.  Will you try too?

Know that I am trying

I hope you understand that this is just a season.  Soon I will be out of the baby phase, but for now, this time is most precious to me.  I appreciate it so much when you make allowance for my current state of being and we somehow still get to spend time together over coffee, instead of cocktails.  I value you coming over to my home and sitting with me while my son plays on the rug.

I hope you understand that your friendship means that world to me; your support in this season means that world to me; and your words of encouragement means the world to me.  Please know that even though I cannot make it and have to cancel on the last minute once again, that I do miss you deeply and value you greatly and look forward to when I get to see you again.

It’s been one of those weird days….

We woke up earlier than usual and played in the bed a bit before breakfast.  It was fun, full of giggles and silliness , and all seemed to be fine. Our boy has started crawling (YAY).  Till now he has spent most of his time on the rug we have in our living room.  Our kitchen and dining area is tiled and he is still adjusting to the feel of the tiles, so rarely ventures off the rug.  This morning I plonked the little guy down on the rug amongst all his toys and set off to whip up his breakfast.  (I should confess that it’s just dry cereal mixed with warm water – so I use the term ‘whip up breakfast’ rather loosely).  I look over and see our boy bravely venturing off the rug and onto the tiles towards me.  I am super excited and cheer him on.  Next thing he starts coughing and splattering and I immediately notice that he was spat up something that looks like regurgitated milk and that it’s come out of his nose.  He is not happy.  I scoop him up. I can see that there is still some goop in his nose, so I grab the nasal aspirator and attempt to clear it out.  He is crying – BIG Tears and fighting me off as best he can. I am feeling like a right old jerk mamma.  That said though, I can only imagine how yuck it must feel for him to have this regurgitated milk in his nose. So I continue with the best intention.  Tears, tears and more tears (his, not mine).

I manage to calm him and proceed to strap him into his feeding chair. As I offer him a spoonful of cereal he turns his head away in refusal and starts crying again. He doesn’t want it!!??  He NEVER turns away food so now I can only assume that his throat must be sore or at least agitated by the spit up episode that just occurred. He continues to cry, a heartsore wail. This concerns me greatly and my mamma heart starts to break for my little guy.  I offer yoghurt and he is willing to eat that,  but not without tears.  Oh, my bleeding heart. At this stage, I actually am unsure if this is teething relate, the beginnings of some a cold, or a mere coincidence – but to be on the safe side I give him some Nurofen. This seems to help and he calms.  We sit on the rug and play together because he won’t let me leave him.  To be honest, I am rather hungry and wouldn’t mind having breakfast myself, but what do I do if my little guy needs me.  Right moms?  We go hungry so that they can feel happy and secure. 

It’s still early, not quite nap time yet, but I hold him close to my chest and rock him in my arms   I think to myself that he must  be hearing my heartbeat and enjoying the feeling of the swaying motion in my arms.  Just like it felt like in the womb – safe, secure and snug.  His eyelids get heavy and he drifts off to sleep.  I lay him down in his room and instead of grabbing breakfast and a shower, I stupidly start clearing up breakfast and dirty diapers and packing the dishwasher so that I can do last night’s dinner dishes.   How can I keep making this mistake again??  A neighbour is doing some home renovations and I hear a delivery vehicle – BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! as the driver attempts to reverse and offload some or other supplies.  URGH, the timing could not be worse!!!!!   My husband offers to make me a cup of coffee and I grab a muffin that I baked yesterday.  For now, this will have to do for breakfast because my son is awake again.  He seems to be feeling a bit better, but I realise that I am starting to feel very emotional.  I wonder if the grey skies along with my son’s cries and clinginess haven’t maybe affected me a little emotionally.  Yes, I mentioned the weather because sometimes grey skies and rain clouds can leave one feeling a bit blah – right?  My emotions are raw and feel super close to the surface and I cannot explain what is wrong – I just feel like I could cry.

 I realise that taking care of one’s kid when they are upset, and having to figure out what is wrong and how to fix it can be very draining.  I realise that I have this, I guess you can call it a deep concern, of my boy being really sick.  I love him so much.  He is this little piece of me.  You know that saying “my heart outside my body”? It’s exactly that.  I don’t like seeing him upset or sad, especially when it is due to something physical.  During the next milk feed, I put on some of his favourite music and set my boy in his playpen while I jump into the shower.  Fortunately, my husband is around because the little dude is just having a very sensitive day, like his mamma, and doesn’t want to be left alone. I aim to prepare a healthy lunch and I am glad to see that my guy eats it all and has a second helping.  He is starting to feel better, and I realise that soon I am starting to feel a little better.  Later on, I decide to put some gem squash on the boil so that he can have it for dinner.  Before long I realise the gem squash is burning on the stove top!!!  Are you kidding me?  I wonder if it’s too early for a glass of wine?

I obviously wasn’t always a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM).  I was once a thriving career woman.  By the age of 30 I was an equity partner in a company that I helped establish and develop into an international brand in its field. However, I used to dream about the day I would get married and start a family, and my desire was that I would be able to be SAHM.

I had no idea of the challenges and frustrations that as a SAHM I would have to face.  Try negotiating with an 8 month old. Boss Baby – there has never been a truer term!  Babies are no respecters of schedules or deadlines. I think back to how different my life was back in the business world – always focussing on the bottom line.  I still focus on a bottom, but it’s more poop diapers as opposed to profitability.

The stress. The emails. The spreadsheets.  Don’t get me wrong, there were elements of that life that I thoroughly enjoyed.  That said, the challenges of the business world are completely different to the challenges of being a SAHM, the rewards are also incomparable. I don’t earn the mega bucks anymore – but I get remunerated in cuddles and laughter, and in the honour of getting to witness first hand all my boy’s little developmental milestones.   Back then, on any given morning before 11am there would’ve been strategy meetings and chit-chat around the coffee machine etc.   Now a successful morning means that by 11am, I have managed to shower and get dressed.

Working or Stay at Home – Mom guilt eats at us all, right?  Are we doing enough, giving enough, being enough…

Most days I am awake by 7h00 am, no alarm needed ‘cos by then my little one is wide awake and has already had his morning bottle. If I am not too tired, I can hit the shower before he gets niggly, otherwise if he is already moany it means he is hungry and so it’s off to the kitchen for breakfast.   By 8h30am my baby is fed and dressed, pity I cannot say the same for myself. Chances are that if at any point I’ve made myself coffee, it is left unfinished and probably cold by now. I  have look through my diary and plan some activities. The aim is to try and rid myself of the mom-guilt I would have about my child being cooped up inside the house all the time. Every day there is a constant battle in trusting whether I had done enough with my boy. Have I given him enough of my attention, am I being the best mommy I can be?

After a nice afternoon out, we get home and I let the baby play on the floor while I figure out what I should have for lunch.  I take a seat next to him (on the floor is my new usual spot) and attempt to eat lunch while being happily distracted by my insanely cute little guy. Mom guilt hits again, am I interacting enough with my baby. I grab a book and sit him on my lap so that I can read him a story.  We sing some songs.  Tickles and giggles.  Now it’s time to get baby down for his nap so that I can do some home admin and figure out what’s for dinner. I work my way through the house  – clear the kitchen, pack dishwasher, rinse bottles. I am about to start dinner when I hear the baby – he has only slept for 30 minutes!!!  I defy that little voice in my head that says “screen time is bad”, and I put my boy in front of the TV and play a few ‘little bum nursery rhymes’ to keep him entertained.  As I whip up his dinner I wonder to myself, am I making enough effort to ensure that my boy is getting a well-balanced healthy meal. Does this mom guilt and self-doubt ever go away?

There’s this lovely challenge that we often face – it’s called TIMING.

For someone who is home all day, I sure do struggle with finding time.  For example deciding when to shower or the best time to hang out the laundry, are just some of the tasks that require expert time management skills.  Obviously it’s great if I could get all these things done while baby is asleep, but the reality is I don’t have that much control over when he sleeps or for how long. Trust me, I have tried to work out a schedule but the baby just won’t follow it. The only alternative is to keep him busy long enough to allow me some time to do the non-baby-watching tasks that as a SAHM I need to take care of. So, I sit my  baby safely in his playpen, add some toys and head out to the washing line (or the shower – or dare I say, the toilet). 

This time, considering its laundry day, I head outside. It is so peaceful out there.  I can hear birds chirp and the sun shines warmly on my skin. For a moment I let my mind wonder and I contemplate all the non-baby related things I would like to achieve that day or week. I replay some discussions I had with my husband the night before. Sometimes, I even spend time in conversation with God. All while enjoying the scent of fresh laundry.

I hear a moan over the baby monitor and my thoughts are quickly interrupted – I have to get done and get back inside stat!  

The tribe, the sandpit and the silly bugger who parked me in

The seasons are changing and these might be the last of those lovely sunny (yet chilly) days. I have an impromptu idea to head to the local park so that my boy can get some outside time.  I call a SAHM friend – yay she is free to join us.  Nothing like being part of a tribe of mommies who are home with their little ones.  Once we are at the park its: entertain baby, feed baby, spend a few moments sitting under a tree chatting, let baby play in the sand and then it’s back home.  On the way home, I have mom guilt about the fact that my baby has only now, at 8 months, had his first experience of playing in the sandpit. Seriously! This mom guilt thing is a never ending roller coaster..

We need to make a quick  pit stop at the store.  I hop out and load baby into the trolley.  He looks so cute sitting upright as we quickly go from one isle to the next. When we get back to the car I notice that a very ‘kind hearted person’ has PARKED ME IN.  I cannot open the driver’s door of my car, so I need to climb over the passenger seat.  Are you kidding me?  If it wasn’t for the fact that I had my boy in the back of the car I would’ve waited there to give that person a piece of my mind! Mommy rage is a real thing. 

Feed baby, bath baby, bottle for baby and bed time.

I am going to confess that most nights I cannot wait for bed time.  I love my cutie pie and he is my precious little seedling,  BUT mamma needs some down time. It seems that the mommy-shift only really ends when the baby is asleep for the night.  Yes he might wake up and yes I might need to attend to him, but he might not and I might just be able to relax on the sofa, binge watch The Good Wife and eat chips hahahaha… Fortunately he is a champ at bed time.  By latest 8h30pm he is out and I get to enjoy some chill time with my hubby for as long as I can keep my eyes open.

Later, as I creep into bed next to that warm little body that I once grew inside my belly, I am overwhelmed again by the deep love I have for my son.  I smell his hair and kiss his cheek – softly of course ‘cos I don’t want to wake him.  As I close my eyes, I say a prayer of thankfulness in that I get to be HIS mamma and I get to spend this time with him….

In conclusion SAHM or Working Mom – either way you’ve got to deal with other people’s crap

When I was in the corporate world, working in a team focussed on same vision and goal, I had to deal with a lot of other people’s crap and wrestle with many challenges and frustrations on a daily basis. Now I wrestle a baby to get him to lie still so that I can clean his soiled diaper and, let me tell you this, I will take that crap over the other any day of the week.

Before I continue with part 2 of my story, let me state that I respect a mother’s right to decide how she wants to feed her baby – if it comes down to it, bottle or boob, fed is best. 

Dear Mom-to-be,
I am sharing this story with you, because I want to encourage you to fight for your ability to breastfeed your baby.

That first night in hospital, seeing my baby under the blue lights and not having my husband with me, had me experiencing many sad emotions. I am sure the postnatal hormones only added my overwhelming sadness – I cried and I cried. The burden that weighed heavily on my heart was the assumption that I was not giving my boy enough sustenance. Most of that night I was on the phone to friends – texting, ranting, crying and praying.  I recall asking a close friend why God would give me breasts if I couldn’t use them to properly feed my baby.  I was really angry at God. Nevertheless, in the midst of my circumstance He showed Himself to be merciful and full of grace.

The next morning another friend called to say she had a sense that she needed to come and see me.  She came to the hospital and brought along her a breast pump and some ‘mommy juice’ that would keep me hydrated and was filled with all the necessary goodness to keep my milk supply on the up.  She also brought along a dummy for my baby. During the night I had to watch and listen to my boy cry because he was unable to self soothe. It was a struggle to put my arms through those incubator holes to try and soothe him. Fortunately the second I slipped that dummy into his mouth, he was calm. 

I immediately attempted to express milk with the breast pump. I wanted to see exactly how much milk I had. Now I know that there is another ‘rule’ that suggests one should not express milk before 6 weeks as this will confuse your milk supply.  I understand that fully – but it was not my intention to exclusively express going forward. I just wanted to give my baby MY MILK for his top up feeds, instead of formula. To my amazement, I could get 10ml of milk.  That doesn’t sound like a lot, but that was all my baby needed for top up feeds. 

Later that day a lactation consultant arrived and I showed her how I was positioning my baby and how he was latching.  She was wonderful. She  gave me a few pointers on where to adjust my position and encouraged me to keep practising.  She also encouraged me to use the shield if it make me feel more comfortable. As long as the baby was feeding.  (You see, both you and your baby have to learn to breastfeed.  We see moms who breastfeed with ease, but the truth is as easy as it looks and as natural as it seems, it can take a while to be perfected. Babies can sometimes forget how from one latch to the next.  Also we are conditioned to watch the clock, but babies don’t know about clocks.  They just want to be close to the good stuff.)  What worked for me is feeding my baby every three hours max, unless he showed signs (any sign) of wanting something sooner.  I found a balance between watching my baby and watching the clock – that worked for my personality and it ensured that my baby was getting milk regularly.

For the rest of my stay in the paediatric ward I would express some milk, then try latch him at feeding time (using the shield) and then give him a top up.  I stopped allowing the nurses in to feed my baby with formula. I would keep record and update them as to when he was on my breast and when I gave him his top up feed.  I would express into a bottle and then use a syringe to draw in the milk and drop it into his mouth.  It worked.  He gained weight.  His billirubin count came down beautifully and the next day we went home!!!  I continued to use the nipple shield for every feed thereafter.  Gradually, during the feeds, I would remove the shield and my boy would happily continue to feed on me. Yes we had hits and misses, but I fought for the ability to feed my baby the way I had hoped to.  By the time we reached our six week mark we no longer needed the shield.

The testimony in my story is that my exclusively breast fed boy picked up so much weight that many started joking that I was producing condensed milk. I went from feeling that I couldn’t do it – to seeing just go well I could. At about  5 months of age our little guy was weighing 9.16kgs… and completely healthy.  What a miracle!!   Our son is now 8 months old and I am no longer breastfeeding. I started phasing in formula around 6, so I am not one of those moms that just kept going . I needed to make the transition and I think that, all things considered, I had done damn well keeping him ‘on the boob’ for so long.  

So, again, to anyone who is about to welcome their new baby and wants to breastfeed, know that sometimes you FIGHT FOR IT! Breastfeeding is not always easy – but one of the most amazing and beautiful things that you can share with your baby.  That said – I still stand by my earlier the statement that FED is best.  Good luck mamma!!

The last thing a new mommy thinks about, is her baby having to go back into hospital when he is just 5 days old…..

The first few days after our baby was born were filled with skin-on-skin snuggles, long naps to recover from the birth (they don’t call it labour for nothing) and getting the handle on breastfeeding. During my pregnancy I would dream about breastfeeding my child – literally.  It was a strong desire of my heart and I was so excited to be able to share in that bonding experience with my baby.

Like any mom who has done research on breastfeeding (and for those who haven’t yet here is the crux of it), I knew that the first few days was all about the “liquid gold” Colostrum. The body produces it immediately after giving birth and it is nutrient rich, full of anti-bodies and loaded with everything the baby needs in those early days.  A mommy’s milk supply usually only comes in around day three, day four after birth.  For me, those first few days of breastfeeding felt a bit clumsy, but my boy seemed to be getting the colostrum.  The tell-tale signs, I was told, was that he was producing enough wet and dirty diapers.  However, before we left the hospital, we noticed that he started to looked a little yellow. His bilirubin count was marginally high causing the slight yellow tint (jaundice), but we were told it was normal and generally speaking it should sort itself out.  So we left the hospital and looked forward to settling in at home.

“What Causes Newborn Jaundice?

Jaundice typically occurs because newborns normally produce increased levels of bilirubin. Bilirubin, which is yellowish in color, is produced when red blood cells are broken down. Bilirubin is removed from the bloodstream by the liver. In newborns, the body may produce more bilirubin than the liver can process.”

Fortunately we had scheduled our boy’s first check up at the baby clinic for the day after we got home from the hospital. The nurse checked his count and found that it had increased slightly. Nevertheless we were told that there was still no need for concern.  We needed to make sure he was feeding well and it was suggested to go get blood tests done later that week (just as precaution).

The forth day after I gave birth my milk had arrived. I was still not sure my baby was latching properly, so I decided to try nipple shields that someone had put in one of my baby shower gift bags.

I was cautioned against using the shields by many:

• It will hinder your supply as your nipples won’t get enough stimulation
• Your baby will get nipple confusion
• It will make your baby lazy….
• Blah blah blah…

I am sure that all of these concerns were valid, BUT using the shield gave me the peace and satisfaction in knowing that my breasts were producing milk and that my baby was getting it. Be that as it may, we still had to do the blood tests that next day. Morning came and we went for the test.  Urgh it is the WORST thing watching someone stick a needle into your new born baby.  Yes it was a heel prick but still – agony!  We got the call from the Paed about two hours later.

I was obviously still adjusting to being home with a baby and, as I mentioned earlier, we were all still recovering from labour. I had brain fog and was completely sleep deprived. All through the phone call with the Paed I was struggling to fully grasp what he was telling me. I thought he wanted us to come in to his office for a consultation, but what was eventually made clear was that WE WERE BEING BOOKED INTO HOSPITAL!

We arrived at the hospital and my husband was tasked with the paperwork required for admission. I was on the paediatric floor answering questions required to get my baby properly set up.  As the questions were coming I was getting more confused, brain fog! I was struggling to communicate with the head nurse and this was making me more frustrated.  I kept asking the nurse to call the Paed and tell him that we were here, but she kept wanting me to answer the questions.  And then, I completely lost it.  I recall getting so angry with the nurse and yelling at her.  I was livid that she was making me sit there and answer questions when I had not yet seen the doctor.  For example – she wanted to know about my baby’s dummy; where his bottle was; what formula they could give for top up feeds?  He was 5 days old and I was exclusively breastfeeding! All the books I read said no bottle or dummy for the first few weeks in order to prevent nipple confusion… So, I had no answers for her.

Then one of the nurses put a mask over the eyes of my 5 day old baby, took him out of my arms and put him in an incubator with the blue lights.  (Cue the mamma tears). Someone came and took blood from my baby, the second time he had given blood that day. My heart was breaking.  When the tests came back the Paed came to see us. He advised that my boy’s bilirubin count was high – close to dangerously high – and that we needed to keep him under the lights. Only to be removed for feeds every 2.5 to 3 hours.

My husband wasn’t allowed to stay with me in hospital that night.  It was the first time I had been alone with our son.  He left with a tear stained shirt. I could hardly sleep between feeds and hated being so far away from my baby. Up till now my boy slept next to me in bed – so having him in an incubator across the room was utter torment.

I tried feeding him, then the night nurse came in and gave him top up formula from a cup.  My sweet boy was needing to be fed top up formula because, somehow, he was not able to get enough milk from me.  I felt like I was already failing him.  To add to this, one of the nurses thought it wise to mention that my boy was probably under the lights because I insisted on breastfeeding.  She said that if I had bottle fed when we left the hospital, he would probably be fine.  I was speechless! All I could do was smile at her.  Inside I wanted to scream, but deep in my hormonal haze and tired confusion, I just smiled…..