27 September 2011

the park

I woke this morning to a wonderful stream of sunlight, cascading through my window like a golden waterfall.
Well that's a very poetic way of looking at it.
It was more like Chris, close those bloody blinds, that frigging sun is burning into my brain!!
I don't do mornings.
However, a (large) coffee and (potent) nappy change later I was sufficiently awake enough to appreciate the fact that it was indeed a beautiful day.
Having been stuck in the house for days with a moody Mya, I seized the opportunity to emerge from the darkness of our flat into the bright outdoors.
Mya loves being outside.
The moment I put her little shoes and socks on and we step outside our front door, her little face beams with delight. Her tiny toddler legs cannot move any quicker as she launches herself into the fresh air.
Today, with my usual, total lack of imagination we went to the local park.
The local park is not an alluring place.
In fact, it is a dump.
When Mya whizzes down the slide in glee I am forced to read in red permanent marker that Amy B luvvs Ryan G. I don't know who Amy B is but maybe she should just tell Ryan she loves him ... or spend more time in English lessons, learning how to spell.
When Mya runs up to me with a cheeky grin I look down to see she is handing me a half empty can of Strongbow and when I throw it out of her reach a local chav child yells at me that's f*ckin litterin luv ennit.
Charming.

But despite the fact that you need a Hepatitis B vaccination in order to enter that park, Mya loves it.
And kicking away a few broken glass bottles is okay with me if I get to see this beautiful face...




  

... I love how children find beauty and joy in the most undesirable places ...

... although I should probably start looking for a new park!

26 September 2011

toddler tip of the day - tantrums

Never look an angry toddler in the eyes.
They can sense your fear.
Do NOT run!
They will hunt you down while emitting an excruciatingly high pitched scream.
Attempts to reason with, bribe or distract will be futile.
Offering Love and Affection will only anger the child further.
And whatever you do, Do not laugh at them!
Try to contain the child in a safe environment, perhaps a cot or playpen ...
Then hide.

yesterday, today, tomorrow

Its not fair.

I am angry at Time.

My little baby is growing up too fast. In fact at times I am pretty sure I can see her growing right before my eyes!

Yesterday I found Mya's very first baby grow and felt a sharp stab of sadness. Whilst I am filled with beautiful memories of her baby days, they are gone.

Today, I am LOVE love loving my beautiful, funny, intelligent toddler and trying very hard to permanently carve the memory of how perfect she is right at this moment in my brain.

Because Tomorrow, Today will be gone. And another precious day of my little girls life, will be lost in the the past.

Time. It's so unfair.

24 September 2011

the simple things ...

If only we all got as excited over the simple things in life ... like bubbles!







23 September 2011

reflux

So, with the Baby Game along with the highs, come the lows. At 10 weeks old Mya was diagnosed with GERD (Gastroesophageal reflux disease) Here is her story...

Mya wasnt right from day one. I stayed in hospital for 5 days after the birth with what I thought at the time was a problem with her latching on to breastfeed (later I learned she latched on fine but didnt stay on because of the pain of reflux). While I was in hospital my beautiful little newborn spent the whole time awake and screaming. She was taken away from me on the 3rd night by the midwives because I was physically exhausted and needed sleep (ironically I couldn't sleep anyway while listening to my baby screaming at the other end of the ward). being a first time mum looking at other mums peaceful sleeping babies I was convinced I was a bad mother and doing something wrong.
When I came home I hoped desperately that we would settle quickly into a routine but Mya was not feeding well taking barely an ounce at a time of expressed breast milk and not staying long enough on the breast to feed properly. The only reason mya continued to stay a good weight was through constant feeding, pretty much every half hour. She would sleep for 5-10 minutes at a time, most of the time having to be constantly bounced in her bouncer chair. When she screamed it would last hours and nothing would calm her down. She would scream to the point of going purple and stop breathing. Her breathing was constantly husky and would grumble like she had a really bad chest infection and her tongue was yellow from the acid.
I went to the doctors over 8 times over the next couple of months explaining how I was really struggling and how mya was screaming for longer and longer periods every day. I was sent away each time with the same conclusion, 'colic'. It was even suggested that the issue was I was a young mother struggling with the demands of a baby!
I became very depressed and withdrawn. I didn't leave the house for days and even weeks because I couldn't bear anyone thinking I was a bad mother as I couldn't calm my screaming baby.
At 9 weeks old mya started screaming and didn't stop. After 6 hours I went to a&e. In tears and physically shaking I waited for a doctor to see me. People in the waiting room even tried to calm her down but she was hysterical and the screaming was endless. Through screams in the doctors office I finally was given the first vague diagnosis and mya was prescribed ranitidine and gaviscon.
After a week of being on the medication she was a different baby, I had my first real smiles and it seemed as though I had finally got to the bottom of it. Not long after that she outgrew her dosages and the screaming returned. It took over 6 phone calls and 3 visits to the doctors to demand to see a paediatrician. One week later I finally got to see a paediatrician. After 10 minutes of the paediatrician attempting himself to stop mya screaming he proceeded to prescribe her a higher dose of ranitidine, domperidone, gaviscon and nutramigen formula for a dairy intolerance.
Over the next couple of months we altered the dosages of the medications and she was even put on lansoprazole as well. From 10 weeks old until 5 and a half months old I adjusted to giving Mya 4 medications 5 times a day.
After half a year of Reflux controlling our lives, at 6 months old, I finally managed to take Mya off all 4 of the medications.
Those six months were the most demanding, stressful, emotional and draining of my life. No-one apart from those who go through it themselves know the stress and upset reflux causes. It is the worst thing in the world seeing your baby in pain and not being able to do anything to help.

Now, at 17 months old, Mya is thriving. She crawled at 5 months old, started cruising at 8 and was walking by 11! She is a beautiful, happy toddler with a wicked sense of humour and I feel so proud to call her my daughter. There is a light at the end of the reflux tunnel ...



22 September 2011

toddler tip of the day ...

When I have cooked a hot meal and Mya is pulling down my trousers, impatiently begging for her dinner right this second, I often chuck in some frozen peas/sweetcorn. The heat will defrost the veg while also cooling down the meal! For soups and purees an ice cube will do the same trick!

But, by law I must tell you to, always check the food temperature before giving to a child.

Forgiveness...

So I am sat writing this entry with a giant cup of coffee. Miss moo was up most of the night, in bed with me, kicking me in the stomach. I suspect those pesky teeth were causing some mischief. She happens to have taken after her mother when it comes to dealing with pain. Poor little monkey thinks the world is ending when she is in a little discomfort.
However, through tired, blurry eyes I am watching her playing so beautifully and I can't help but forgive her. Mothers are amazing in that they can be kicked, punched, screamed at, puked and pooed on by their child and instantly forgive. Say if you were to poo on me.... I may not be quite so forgiving!
Kids get away with murder.
I say that as Mya proudly presents me with a half eaten sausage she has pulled out of the bin. Nice.
I guess it's the thought that counts...

21 September 2011

Mya Rose

video

When that pregnancy test produced two red lines I knew that I was in for a whole world of change. I was scared. Scared, but stupidly excited. I mean there was going to be another 'me' in the world ... a smaller, cuter, squishier me! What could be more exciting?

I loved being pregnant. It was magical.
It was also a total bitch.

I had the classic ALL DAY sickness (whoever called it 'morning' sickness has a nose to rival Pinocchio's!), Gastroenteritis, Swine flu (One week before being offered the swine flu jab... yes, just my luck!) and Sciatica from the depths of HELL!!

Aside from all of that I LOVED being pregnant!

It was the one time in my life that I felt beautiful (blooming, if you will).
I took my chance to eat everything and anything i could get my preggo hands on.
- Cravings included baked beans (TINS and TINS of baked beans) I was a baked beans connoisseur!
- Strawberry Yazoo. My fridge was full of the glorious pink milk!
- Chocolate. I was heavily pregnant through Easter ... need I say more?
- Food ... All food. It was all so good!

I was a little obsessed with my pregnancy. Yes, I was one of those pregnant girls who would explain in detail to strangers how I was 16 weeks and 3 days and 10 hours and 13 minutes pregnant or how i had only two weeks and 3 days until my baby may have fingernails!!!
I feel sorry for my friends and family and anyone who innocently asked how far along I was but, hey, I had a tiny-weeny-little life growing inside me. It.was.awesome.

The weeks leading up to labour I was on edge. Nesting like a crazy woman! Now, I am not a 'clean freak' but I cleaned, and cleaned ... and cleaned! I scrubbed tiles, and door handles. Cleaned smudges off walls. Washed, folded and refolded all the little baby grows. Packed and unpacked my hospital bag. And when I was done with that I would start all over again!

After 40 weeks my due date finally came. I woke up on the morning of my due date and half expected to lift up my covers to see the baby there. There was no baby. It was like waking up on Christmas day to discover Santa had been delayed. So.. like a mad lady I proceeded to drown myself in Raspberry Leaf tea and bounce on my birthing ball until I could bounce no more! But still no baby. I gave in and flopped on the sofa.
Later that evening I had my first contraction whilst watching Graham Norton. I was thrilled. It was finally happening. I spent the whole night timing the contractions. Eyes wide open glued to the clock. In the morning I sent my boyfriend (now fiance), Chris, off to work, only to call him back an hour later thinking my waters had broken. Off we went to the hospital. I was strapped up to the machine and was told I was 2cm dilated and was regularly contracting every 4-5 minutes. But my waters were still intact ... I was quietly informed I had probably just peed myself ... whoops!
I left the hospital excited and pleased that I was coping so well with the contractions. How hard can this be? I thought to myself ... famous.last.words.
After a short nap in the afternoon I went to turn the TV on and felt a big pop and a gush of water, soaking my trousers. 'Chris!! This isn't pee ... I'm totally not peeing myself this time!' I shouted. I went and sat on the toilet, waters still trickling and got Chris to call the labour ward whilst the most horrific pain coursed through every cell in my body. I was shaking. This was just the start and the pain was unbearable. One thought ... oh shit.
The rest seemed a bit of a blur. Yelling... there was a LOT of yelling.
'Gas and Airs not working!!' 'Pethedine!!' 'Give me the EPIDURAL!!!'
After 6 hours yelling, and kicking and throwing bath water everywhere I finally got the epidural.
Oh yes ... Like a drunkard I proclaimed my love to the anaesthesiologist.
Not long after the epidural was administered I was yelling for a top-up. It had failed. NOOO!
Luckily not long after that I began to push. Biting down on the gas and air I pushed with every ounce of strength I had left in me. Get.this.child.out.of.me!!!
One hour of pushing and an episiotomy later, at 4.06am my gorgeous (albeit slightly squished-old-man looking) baby girl was born and placed into my arms. There are no words to describe the intensity of emotions that I had right at that moment. A drug addict could not get that high!

I was in love.




Mya Rose - 6lbs

Let the 'Baby game' begin ...


That's the baby game ...



This is me. Natasha. Also known as ... Tasha. No nicknames I am afraid.

Let me start by explaining the name of the blog. That's the baby game.
After I had my daughter, Mya (Also known as Miss moo) my stepfather decided it would be amusing to respond to every one of my comments about daily baby life with 'That's the baby game...'

'Mya spent all day screaming!' ... 'That's the baby game...'
'Mya just puked in my hair!' ... 'That's the baby game...'
'Mya took a poo out of her nappy and put it in my shoe!' ... 'That's the baby game...'

Annoying. Yes.
But he has a point.

So I decided to start a blog.
A small window into the life of a slightly crazed mother ...