Tales from The Fourth Trimester

Photos by the lovely Victoria Baker 

Hello hello, how’s everyone enjoying the first week of January? I’m navigating not only the fourth trimester AKA the first 12 weeks of being a mum (who else had no idea this was even a thing?) but also the disorientation that is January when you have no idea what day of the week it is. Oh and I think my first period in 12 months in on the way. SEND HELP.

I thought I’d whip up a little post all about the highs and lows of the first 12 weeks post birth. There’s the joy of huge boobs, hormones and haemorrhoids and the fact that my husband and I have gone from a loving couple to glorified shift workers fighting over who gets to have 3 minutes sleep between the never ending eat, wind, change cycle. The fourth trimester can be summed up in three words. Pass. The. Gin!

Let’s talk about mini-meltdowns (of which there have been many).

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made a lot of progress since the last time I checked in with you guys with a motherhood update which by the way I was totally overwhelmed with the response, I received so many messages from fellow mums telling how this post struck a chord and how they could totally relate so I hope you all enjoy this one just as much.

Among the heartwarming first smiles, giggles and cuddles, you should know there have been some setbacks. Standing outside the White Rose shopping centre for 40 minutes trying to assemble a pram was just one. Missing my GP appointment while sat outside the GP surgery because I couldn’t figure out how to detach the car seat from the iso fix base on the one day that the O2 network went down was another. I mean I was prepared for our first solo trip without my husband but I was not prepared for my best friend Google to abandon me too. You see for the first 5 weeks, my husband did all the heavy lifting while I recovered from major abdominal surgery but when he went back to work it was almost like starting from scratch as I tried to learn all the things he had mastered during paternity leave. This included how to work the pram, the car seat and the bottle steriliser. Having to call the GP to cancel our six-week check from one metre away and having to call my husband out of work to hoist the car seat out of the back of my car was a low point that made me want to hibernate for the rest of time. I had failed at motherhood at the first hurdle. A three-door mini, a car seat that weighs approximately 450 pounds and a 6-week old c-section scar are not a winning combination. To sum up. Our first outing was a total shit show. I would have sent an angry tweet if I could have accessed Twitter (or any website for that matter). Luckily, my mum and my best friend were on hand when I got home and held the baby while I cried into my Bettys tea. Thank god for best friends and Bettys.

All the Gear and No Idea

I’ve very much taken the throw money at it approach to motherhood and it’s worked for the most part. However, I will say that you don’t know real fear until the filter needs replacing on your Tommee Tippee perfect prep machine out of the blue and you haven’t the foggiest how to do it. Do the makers of this marvellous machine program it to need replacing in the middle of the night, at the precise moment your baby needs feeding when you can’t remember your own name never mind the exact location of that spare pack of filters you cleverly stashed away? Then even when you find them you realise you need to undertake a mammoth cleaning cycle that can give an episode of the crystal maze a run for its money. NOT OK TOMMEE TIPPEE. If I had any idea how to make a bottle without you I’d have asked for a refund. Throwing  money at it means I get one of those fancy nappy bins that promise to lock in any odours but can it promise you that your dog won’t rifle through it, select the most offensive nappy in it and bring it up to your living room where you are currently pretending to your posh friends that you have your shit together? I can confirm. It can not.

New Year New Me? ALEXA: SLAP FOOD OUT OF MY HAND.

Have you set a sprinkling of new years resolutions for the year ahead?

My new year goals are hella different from any other year. 2018 was to double my income and finally attempt to get a booty J Lo would be proud of. This year? It’s to graduate from a maternity maxi pad to a light but absorbent panty liner oh and to shower before 9pm. On the bright side, it’s January 8th and I am no longer wearing super maxi pads, regular sanitary towels or even a light panty liner so I guess you could say that’s one goal smashed. *smug face*

Yes, it’s the small victories.

The Good Bits

The first 8 weeks are pretty relentless, you will have no evening to speak of, instead you’ll be trying to watch your favourite show over the sound of white noise, sacrificing the batteries out of the TV remote for your baby’s sleep sheep and giving your best rendition of any song to encourage them to drift off to sleep. But then, around week 9 or 10 is when your baby suddenly adopts a little personality of their own and you will see those first smiles. This morning (week 11) I popped my head over Jolie’s bed for her first feed of the morning, tired, frazzled and grumpy to be met with arms waving frantically and a grin expressing the kind of excitement I save only for 60% off at the Harvey Nichols sale. It was contagious. It felt like something clicked into place and I suddenly knew that I would do anything in my power to keep that little smile firmly in place. Be warned. I now expect this level of enthusiasm from everyone I see on a morning.

Grateful 

One thing that has struck me over the last 11 weeks is the kindness of strangers as well as those closest to me.

The lady who left her epic Sunday lunch to come over and tell me my baby was beautiful and to let me know I was doing a great job. I thought she was coming over to judge me for the glass of wine I was enjoying or to tell me I was doing it all wrong and the gratitude I felt when I realised she was simply being kind was overwhelming.

The mum who got out of her car to help me decode my new pram.

The 8 girls from my NCT group who remind me it’s ok to have no idea what I’m doing and that someone else is awake at 4am.

Then there’s my ride or die friends that have helped me navigate nail appointments and dropped in to give Jolie her first manicure when I was too scared to tame those tiny nails with the scary looking baby clippers and family members who have put in babysitting hours so I can enjoy a rare baby-free date night.

My bestie in America whose time zone coincides perfectly with my night feeds whose messages mean the world.

Then there’s my ridiculously talented friend who took the time to share her epic photography talents and capture some gorgeous shots of Jolie during her third week. You can see them in this post.

My husband who bravely stepped in and held Jolie while she had her jabs because I wasn’t feeling quite so brave.

Like any new skill, being a new mum takes patience, practice and a powerhouse of people who can see when it’s all getting a little too much. As always, honesty is my priority here and what I’ve learned is that when everyone you meet is telling you how to feel, waxing lyrical about the magic of spending the first Christmas as parents, it’s 100% ok to admit that yes it’s special, but its also beyond exhausting, often overwhelming and quite frankly we were all excited to be in bed at 9pm. (who am I kidding it was 7pm most nights).

How to get through it…

Postpartum mamas, with only 1 week to go until the fourth trimester is boxed off, let me tell you it gets easier week by week, but my biggest piece of advice is to say yes to help. That offer to cook dinner or do a load of laundry, someone simply holding your baby so you can shower or dare I say even have a bath.

SAY YES.

Oh and set alarms. Functioning on 2 hours sleep is hard. I have a feed the baby alarm, a don’t forget to feed the dog alarm and a have you fed yourself alarm.

Give zero f*cks.

ZERO.

Whether you are using a dummy on day one (like me) or you’ve ventured into the land of co-sleeping, don’t be swayed by the opinions of others. Harder said than done but you do you.

Lastly, do something every day that makes you feel like your old self.

For me, it’s writing a paragraph or two and slapping a sheet mask on. However, be wary that not all pre-baby activities will be as good post-baby. There are a few things that should be avoided in the first 12 weeks like deadlifts, burpees and trying anything on in Zara. Their sizes weren’t your friend before you gave birth and they certainly aren’t now.