But it hasn’t been easy, I’ve had sleepless nights about bonding fears, illness, coursework and thoughts of the future – but I’ve made it through mainly because of my man. He’s been a stay at home dad and while he’s mainly enjoyed it I know it’s not been easy for him either.

Ha! Who are we kidding?
If I thought this year was hard then I know next year may well kill me on the stress front; next year I’ll be undertaking a final year project that will determine whether I get a first class honours degree or something a bit ‘less’. I’m thinking of something along the lines of e-learning, I want to mix in my interest in online social media and if I could just find a way of shoehorning in karaoke and jewellery making then I’d be as happy as the proverbial pig ;0)

Whatever the project though I’ll still be involved in the CABLE group and will be even busier than last year *gulp*

With that in mind we’ve discussed our options and decided that it’s better if Stef continues to stay at home with Isabella, she’s a happy, secure child and we want her to stay that way; the reassurance of a constantly available parent can only help her feeling of security.

If I get as stressed as we think I will (going off this year it’s almost a certainty) then we need to be prepared to deal with the inevitable relapses on the ME/CFS front when I’ll need Stef at home to care for both me and Izzy for a few days until I can function again – he wouldn’t be able to drop work for that purpose very often and retain the job; besides which we both agree that it’s better to care for her ourselves than for him to work just to pay for a stranger to – which, after tax and petrol costs etc is what would happen given the current work climate and the few suitable jobs on offer.

I’m just thankful that we’re in the position to be able to do this, that we have a roof over our heads, funds for food and bills and little need for anything else – my how things will change once our little cherub discovers brands and peer pressure *sigh* I’m dreading it..

She’s adorable though, with a single giggle, clap or her current attempts to convey her adoration of all things dog (‘BOOF!’) she lightens my heart and makes the day seem less hard – no matter what. I never knew it was possible to love something like this, the fierceness of it, how I still find myself watching her sleep with a tight happy feeling in my chest and tears threatening to overspill at the wonder of her.

Corny eh? but truer than true.

That kid has completely changed my world – for the better! because of her I’m determined to do the best I possibly can, I want to be the best role model for her I can be, I want to teach her to put her all into everything and to go for whatever she wants all guns blazing.

But mostly I want to teach her that she is loved unconditionally and that just by being in the world she makes me a better person – a bit like her dad if I’m honest.

I have the best family in the world – feel free to envy me.
Go on,  won’t blame you at all *grin*

No this is not going to be one of those bah humbug type posts – i’m not allowed to bah humbug anymore – I have a child, I’ve now got to embrace the joys of Christmas and foster a belief in santa – something that may eventually lead to a schoolyard kicking as said belief disintegrates, but why borrow trouble eh? We’ve got a good 3-4 years before that happens – and anyway, I’ve found a place that teaches kung-fu to kids..

This is why, for the first time ever in a place of my own, I have a tree. As you can see, it’s covered in pink stuff – this was not my choice, Stef was seduced by the displays at cruise hill and succumbed to the lure of pink baubles. I have to admit though, it turned out better than I’d expected *grin*

Isabella's first tree

I have completed my Christmas shopping with days to spare – even the laggards at Amazon have got it together enough to dispatch the remainder of my order just in time, fingers crossed it arrives tomorrow so that I don’t have to eat those words eh? In between pulling my hair out over college work I’ve also been busy crafting some truly lovely items of jewelery (even if I do say so myself) so it’s a fair bet that if you’re a female reading this and we’re related – you know what you’re getting this year – again lol

..reminds me, need to photograph this lot before handing ‘em out – I keep forgetting to do that! This hobby is another reason I’m glad we had a girl, it’ll make birthday parties easier – just teach ‘em how to craft something unique that they can keep! (well, ok, it might work once..)

Right, speaking of coursework.. I have an extension for the lit review; it now ha/s to be submitted online by Christmas eve – no rest for the wicked eh..?

Merry Christmas you lovely lot – I’ll be posting festive Izzy pics after the event so keep an eye on flickr and facebook..

Long time readers of this blog will know that I have suffered with that particular nasty for several years now and only in the last 2 have built myself up enough to lead a ‘normal’ life. The first website I ever built was actually about CFS/ME but it relates more to adults than children and is in dire need of an update! This blog and my site are not very good representations of my work as I’ve learned so much more since creating them, I’ve just not found the time to get that far down my priority list to remedy the situation.

I’m enjoying the challenge, I love to code and even the research isn’t so bad (though having to use harvard referencing sucks, must find a word plugin for that soon..) it’s just a shame that it means I’m losing time with Isabella.

She had her first set of jabs the other day, she was soooooo good and only screamed for about 30 seconds – but man that gal can sulk! She refused to make eye contact with us for hours afterwards, it seems some types of body language are in effect straight from the womb! I actually held her up and rotated her around to try and make eye contact with her and at only 9 weeks of age she consciously moved her head to avoid looking at me *grin* a strong will has this daughter of mine!

..I’m dreading puberty already.

For the first couple of weeks I handled it just fine, yes there was some discomfort but the midwife, 2 health visitors and the breast feeding clinic lass said she was latching on just fine and since she was gaining weight (my god is the child gaining weight!) I figured it was just over sensitiveness on my part.

..then at week 3 the growth spurt hit.

Nothing can prepare you for that, she was crying to be fed 30 minutes after her last feed, each feed was taking between 1-2 hours at  time as she alternately mutilated my tender bits and dozed -  I felt like she was literally sucking my life away it was so draining, I had no energy to speak let alone come online or think about college.

It actually got to the stage where she’d finish feeding and I’d pass her to the nearest person and run for bed, bathroom or kitchen depending on which need felt greatest at that particular moment – then I’d avoid being near her in the hope she’d give me some respite – I approached those feeds with dread as the longer it went on the more painful it was becoming.

She developed the habit of latching on then clamping down – trust me, having no teeth was not a deterrent for the little madam in causing her mama pain, there’s strength in them there jaws of hers – and when coming off the breast or if troubled by wind (constantly) she’d screw up her face, pull her head back and worry my poor abused teat from side to side like a terrier with a rat. I actually had a nightmare about her becoming a milk vampire – in this dream I’d turned my back on her for a second to ready my nursing station and she flew from the cot and attacked me from behind, burrowing through my back to get at my breast.
That was NOT a pleasant dream.

I managed to grit my teeth and bear this for 5 days then I broke. At around 1am whilst she was once more mutilating me in her desperation for food, with tears streaming down my face I begged Stef to go get some formula and bottles from the 24hr Tesco.

While he and and the devil spawn shopped I cried myself to sleep. The next day I managed my first pain free feed – it was amazing, I managed to look down at that contented little face and feel love instead of pain, resentment and guilt (over the resentment) and instead of handing her straight to Stef afterwards so I could run and hide from her I enjoyed a real cuddle – the first in weeks!

The downside to this feed skipping was that I still needed milking; so we bought a pump.
I thought I had it all figured out, the occasional breast feed to keep up my supply, express the rest and alternate formula and breast milk feeds.

..Of course it couldn’t be that simple.

After 2 uses of the pump I developed blocked ducts and engorged breasts (ow ow ow ow ow ow OWWWW!) Which is when I discovered it’s possible to cook chilled cabbage leaves using breast heat alone (but they are effective in reducing swelling and easing the discomfort for anyone who needs to know..) So instead of expressing a full feed each time I started just taking an ounce when I felt full and intermittently feeding her straight from the breast – at least the break meant I could bear the discomfort.

I’m beginning to dread hearing the phrase “it will get better” because every time someone tells me that I get something worse.

This week it’s been mastitis – poor Stef spent 3 days looking after Izzy alone as well as cleaning away my bile filled buckets and attempting to make food I could keep down so I could take my antibiotics. They finally kicked in and the fever broke so I could at least keep down water, but the pain was unbelievable – and it triggered the menieres too so I literally couldn’t get out of bed due to the dizziness and nausea and ear pain.

..oh and my caesarian scar decided to start bleeding too, it’s all fun and games!

I was lying there in my sick bed, too dizzy to get up but dying for a shower; my 3 day fever sweat stench mingling with the smell of sour milk, cooking cabbage and old blood was knocking me sick again – when to add insult to injury this delightful cocktail of smells started attracting flies through the open window -  seriously, I felt like a corpse lol all I needed was to hear a ringing bell and the monty python lot outside the window screeching “Bring out your dead”
When Stef brought her in to see me after the fever broke I wanted to cry, in the space of a day or two she’dd already changed so much, her skins clearer, she’d filled out and was even more alert – and i missed it happening, she laughs and smiles at you and it amazes me that we have such a perfect little thing in our lives.

I now know if I continue to persevere with this I’ll never make it into college and in the long term I need to have completed this course with flying colours if I expect to get a decent enough job to afford the life for our little love that I want – I just have to accept that while breast may be best, the child has had 5 weeks of my milky goodness and selfish as it may seem, I’ve suffered enough! By the time she’s weaned away from the breast and my milk supply has dried up (please let it be soon!) It’ll be over 6 weeks and I’m supposed to be back in class full time then.

Now, lets just hope these last 2 days of antibiotics do their job – I’m really sick of being ill.

I know, not the most flattering description ever given by a mother about her newborn but this child is just that alien, she has these enormous dark blue/grey eyes that seem to be threatening to change to brown any day, when they are open and gazing about in that strangely alert way she has, she looks at me with such distrust at times that I feel compelled to tell her not to worry so much – how someone so young can also appear so old is disturbing.

Her features in the first 24 hours changed so dramatically I truly think had she not shared my bed in the hospital I’d have suspected a switch – as it is she now looks so delicate and fey-like that part of me keeps half expecting her to transform into a bundle of twigs.
Quite lucky really that her skin is so soft and as the midwife today said – she hasn’t a single blemish, if only we could get her to keep on the scratch mitts as she keeps catching herself with those wicked claws Stefs trying to attend to (I can’t bite nails, all my teeth are plastic – and I’m far too squeamish to take scissors to her delicate little paws)

The poor wee bairn had quite a traumatic entrance into the world though; quite a contrast to the nice soothing environment I had planned.

It started well, contractions kicked in at about 7:30pm on sunday 31st (so only 4 days later than the EDD) I had a ‘show’ but the contractions remained too irregular for established labour (I used the contraction master to keep a track much to my stepmums amusement – how would I cope without the net eh?!) then just as I was beginning to hold out hope of regularity they stopped altogether at about 1pm the following day – I was gutted!
On the 2nd they kicked in again at about 3pm, this time they continued to grow in intensity if not regularity, by 2am I was downing paracetamol and calling up the reserves (stepmother: midwife and 2nd birthing partner) to drive down from Manchester as they were averaging 8 minutes apart and 1 minute 20 seconds in duration – by 4am we were heading to the hospital as they jumped to every 2 minutes and I was dying!

Typically, upon reaching the hospital the pains became erratic again but it was suggested I stay in and take some tamazepam so as to get some sleep. I took the drug but sleep never happened, 6 hours later I had the entonox wheeled in – sadly on a mouthpiece as they couldn’t locate a face mask, not the best delivery system for someone who can’t breathe through her mouth (I know, I’m a freak) but there ya go.

By now I was shattered, still no signs of settling into actual labour – that’s right, they don’t count anything before 3cm dilated as actual labour, if they did you’d be counting DAYS as opposed to hours, trust me on this I now know from painful experience!
Stef came back to the hospital with all the gear and sat with me through all of this, encouraging me to drink and trying to get me to eat – sadly the latter proved impossible as I just brought straight back up anything I tried to choke down.

After several more hours of this another midwife told me they were running me a bath to try and slow things down so I could relax – 5 hours later I was crying with relief at finally reaching the seemingly impossible 3cm dilation and established labour! (all without pain relief having eschewed further use of the entonox due to the sickness it caused me)

I hobbled over to the delivery suite where they were busy filling the birthing pool for me, I was standing there chanting my breathing mantra “Red, Green, Grey, Black” whilst waiting for the soothing effect of immersion, these were the 4 colours reflected in the tap of the bath on the ward – I’d focused so hard on those to distract myself from the pain that they became my tie to controlled breathing.

..Methinks a new necklace is in order to commemorate the fact – once I can face beading again  :wink:

Anyhow, a further 6 hours on and I’m still only 3cm dilated despite really deep contractions, according to both Stef and Eileen I’d become a mini Hitler – at one point I’d ordered Stef out of the room because I could smell crisps on him and I do recall the coffee incident but.. meh, I was in pain okay?
So.. I’m now out of the pool and walking around and it’s suggested that I allow them to break my waters to help the process along. I was so tired and dejected by this point that I agreed.

It was the most painful and distressing part of the entire experience, the contractions double in intensity and I’m now subject to the nasty feeling of water cascading down my legs with every movement alongside the pain, at this point I was again offered entonox to help and a face mask was found which totally changed the experience – it was pure bliss sucking on that gas through those contractions then.

I love me that entonox!

2 hours later I’d progressed to only 4cm dilated and a syntocin drip was proposed to help me along as now my waters had gone the risk of infection was higher the longer I was in labour, so I agreed.

MY GOD! If I thought the previous contractions were bad.. Ouch. So out came the morphine.

Now there’s a drug combination you should be allowed at home *grin* wow. Me likee’d muchly! Seems everyone else liked me liking it to, there’s been much amusement over me explaining how the midwifery team could use twitter to good effect to help with a communication issue they were having.. Seems I was expected to start mentioning photons and blackholes in the same breath, pah! non net folks..

*ahem*

Anyhow by this point I have no idea how much time had passed but I wasn’t progressing and the babys heartrbeat had taken to dropping alarmingly with every syntocin dose, they had to take me off it, send me through for the dreaded epidural and ceasarian section.

I was gutted. all those hours of managing the pain with nothing but water were wasted, my every effort for a natural birth out of the window I resigned myself to the slice and dice – and now wish I’d just gone down that route to start with!

The anaesthetist was briliant – epidural was administered in what seemed like seconds and took effect in the expected way, just goes to show you should never listen to the horror stories!

The actual ceasarian was a weird experience, one second I could feel the baby moving around inside me, the next I have blue, mucous and blood spatterd genitals hanging over the sheet for my perusal with someone saying ‘heres your baby’ it took several seconds for me to register the fact that these genitals were female and that I could no longer feel her moving around inside me.

I heard the surgeon ask for time of birth and 2 people piped up “5:14″ “5:15″ but it was the first that became my babys official time of arrival on the 3rd of September 2008.
I also found out later that there’d been no hope of a natural birth for me, poor little Isabella had been living inside me with her cord wrapped twice around her face and body, this had stopped her engaging properly and when the contractions tried forcing her down it was basically strangling her causing the distressed heartbeat.

Despite all this, our little love is remarkably chilled and I cannot even begin to describe how amazing it feels every time we look at her. She’s just.. Indescribably perfect.