Chickafinty ~ A Life in the Laundry

Self-motivated learner

In our early years of home educating we were constantly second guessing ourselves and questioning whether we were doing the right thing.  We both had an overwhelming sense that we were, but there were many days of doubting especially in the very early years.

Were we doing enough?

Were we doing enough of the right sort of things?

Were we setting the kids up for failure as learners because we were directing their learning from start to finish?  Should we be more free range and less instructive?

We're now seven years on from where we started.  Michael is staring down the barrel of 15 - he's not 8 years old anymore.

And despite our approach, or maybe because of our approach, he's become a self-directed learner.  Yesterday was our first day back at home education.  As soon as his courses were available he was on the computer looking up his subjects for the term and getting a feel for where he'd be working.  Within less than half an hour he was immersed in learning about Julius Caesar as in English they are studying the Shakespeare.  

He moved to Maths and realised that the lessons were beginning halfway through a unit on Algebra.  We talked about it and decided to go back about 5 weeks to last term and start Algebra at the beginning.  It means some quite a lot of extra work.  Apart from a wrinkled nose and a bit of an annoyed sigh, Michael simply picked up the printouts off the computer and started tackling the work.  An hour later and he'd worked through the first four lessons.  It's amazing how much you can do when you don't have to contend with classroom management issues, waiting for the slowest worker, or waiting for the teacher to explain something.

He accomplished more in three hours yesterday than he's done in ages.  I can tell by the degree of mental exhaustion he suffered from last night.  By 9pm he was utterly whacked.

This morning he was on the computer by 7am checking out the next lot of courses and up to his eyeballs in the Biblical Studies lessons.  He needs help in some areas, and no help at all in others.  He's mostly independent, but occasionally misses the most crucial piece of information completely...like the need for the book for Biblical Studies.  Thankfully he has such a good grounding in this area that he could answer the questions without the book - but the need for the book had completely passed him by.  We've fixed it now of course.  It's those things which highlight his need for 1:1 assistance.  

Seven years ago I had to do everything.  Now I need to do a little tweaking and he's off on his own as a self-directed learner.  A little while from now and all the pieces will be in place and he'll be completely independent.  We're accomplishing what we set out to do, and it feels very satisfying.

In a fug

In a total fug today and feel like I accomplished nothing.  It's not true of course because in reality I did a lot, but it doesn't feel like it.

I think I'm going to do a Flylady Crisis Clean and see if that makes a difference.  Less clutter makes for much less stress.  Calm is good.

New day; new way

Day one of the new life that we couldn't have even imagined six weeks ago. Michael is home being schooled via distance education once more. Ladybaby is still at school but only until the end of the year when she is coming home to be school via distance education.
Can't wait to see where this new life is going to take us all.

Getting well - notes to self

stop medicating with food.  just stop.

sunshine, and lots of it

create a timetable, give shape to the day

make time for down time every day

walk

drink water

stop thinking about working through Search the Scriptures, and actually do it

finish off the work from work, rule a line underneath it and call it done.  stop sweating it.

spend time with friends.  lots of time; lots of friends

write

walk the dog

laugh often; love often

remove all the sources of stress.  you know how to do this.  go ahead and do it.  it won't take as long as you think it will.

do a crossword every day. use your fanciest pens and your neatest handwriting and do it

decide that now matters; stop waiting for when it's all perfect because it's never going to be perfect

even if it's not perfect do it anyway

But first, an apology

If you read Chickafinty through a blog reader, you'll note that there are about 12 new entries for today.  My apologies for so many posts in one day.  I found, by accident, my old old old blog at Diaryland and discovered that I didn't start blogging in October 2002 like I thought, but rather in July 2002 when I was five weeks pregnant with Ladybaby.  Which makes for blogging for 13 years.  Wow.  

I read through the entries and decided to bring them over here to Typepad, especially as they talk a lot about the pregnancy with Ladybaby, and about Michael when he was a brand new toddler.  Stuff that happened a lifetime ago or so it seems.

Diaryland is pretty much defunct these days so I have those entries here in case Diaryland ever disappears for good.

6/10/2002

We are now just scant days from our u/s appointment. We are hoping to find out what the baby is although I am a bit freaked out about this. I am so desperately hoping that they'll say "it"s a girl" that I am telling myself (and everyone else) that it is a boy so I won't be too disappointed when they tell me it is a boy. Mr Bear has a brother and a sister. The brother has two boys, the sister, three. We have a son. The chances of it being a little pink baby are minimal, but I cling to the hope.

It si not that I don't want a boy. In reality I don't think that I particularly care all that much. This will be our last baby. I can't see us having more than two children. I am too old for one. I'd want another baby before 35. I just don't fancy being a mummy after 35. I know many women are. C from work is due any day now and she is 40, but I jsut can't see that for me. So, in essence, this is our last shot at a daughter.

I love Chickabid to bits and have never for one day regretted that he came with additional plumbing. And I know very well with this baby that I will not bemoan or regret it whether the baby comes with extra plumbing or not. But having a daughter means so many "extras". It means teaching her to knit, to embroider, it means sharing stories and histories...the things that boys don't tend to be much interested in. It means shopping for a formal gown when she finishes high school, wandering through aisles of rustly taffetas and lace, maybe planning a wedding one day, going shopping together, sharing being women together.

1/10/2002

Two days of moderate success. Yesterday and today I was in the vertical around 6.30 which is a good two hours ahead of where I would normally be.

Yesterday we walked with Mr Bear to the station, waved him off on the train and came hoem via the corner store for milk, bread and a paper. Somehow I felt like a homemaker just accomplishing this small task.

I had made a good start on the house when I stopped to take Chickabid to the doctor. I noticed a lump on his neck when he was cleaning his teeth on Sunday and wanted to get this checked out. The dr. said it wasn't anything to worry about but to keep an eye on it which I will do.

I got the washing on the line and did a poo pickup after the Idiot Dog which meant that Chickabid could come out with me. He reminded me to put the sprinkler on the rose bushes...it is amazing what a small boy who doesn't actually talk can communicate!

Today I cleaned the lounge and made a start on the ironing. I'll admit it doesn't sound like much, but for the housework-challeneged these have been two days where success has outweighed failure.

I had disappointing news today...I thought that I was going to be able to maintain my position at work for another 12 months, even though I am having the year off for Finty. Alas this is not so and as of 20th December this year I will no longer work there. It has been my workplace for 11 years...I began my teaching career there so I feel a real sense of sadness that this has come to an end, but so be it. I still have my job, but if and when I return to teaching, it will have to be at another place. In a way I am glad as, if it was left up to me I'd hum and ha about it for another decade before making the decision to leave. The decision has now been made for me and I can't go back.

Someone said "The past is another country" and the older I get the more I discover this to be true.

On a happier note, Chickabid and I went into the plaza early today, mainly as we needed petrol and there is a promotion on at the moment. Buy a 24 pack of Coke and get 8c a litre off petrol at the service station owned by the supermarket. The lenghts you'll go to to save $3 on your petrol bill! Anyway, I bought a doughnut for Chickabid and decided to head for Gloria Jean's for a coffee where I met my best buddy from High School. I haven't seen much of her for about 16 years, but lately I've seen her two or three times. We chat away as though there has been no change, no time lag and it is wonderful. Sharing memories with a partner is great, but it was fantastic to talk with her about shared memories from those days.

I left that school at the end of Year 10 to attend another school, so our Year 10 graduation was more significant for me than for the group I was in as I was saying Goodbye. WE all gathered with our parents at Tom's Eats...the most illustrious establishment that the town had to offer. Someone had the idea of passing around those sugar sachets they have on the table, with everyone signing a sugar. Despite many relocations I still have that sugar sachet, bearing signatures that are now nearly 16 years old. It takes me back to the mid eighties, to a time when I was part of a group. We performed in the school musicals together and as such spent a lot of time outside school in each tohers company. We weren't the cool group, or the daggy group, we weren't the out crowd, or the drinkers/smokers/druggies...we were just us. If you don't understand the above statement, it doesn't matter, 'cos those of us who shared that time do.

We are scattered across the country now. H. we think is in Qld, I am in Sydney, B. is in Qld, possibly moving to the States, J. is over the mountains, V. G. and L. we've lost touch with altogether.

One day I'd like to get the gang in one place again. Just once as I doubt we'd have anything too much to say to one another past the initial gushings, but it would be nice to catch up.

Reading this now, in 2015, makes me immeasurably sad.  The H. referred to towards the end did indeed move to Queensland.  On 27th September last year I found out that he had died, by his own hand, two days previously.  

The past is another country and you can't go back, but it would be nice to visit just for a while.

29/9/2002

My house is a tip. I somehow thought that thirty years of slovenliness would be wiped out simply by the act of being a SAHM (Stay At Home Mum-for the uninitiated). But alas, this is not so.

Oh, I have lists...lots of lists. A daily list, a weekly list, a day-by-day including menus list. I have a household index - beautifully tabulated and set up - I have cupboards full of every cleaning product known to modern man, but my house is still a tip. I know that it is awful and I feel as though I am constantly letting myself and everybody else down, but there you go. Each night I go to bed with plans for how this is going to change. Tomorrow, I will...

but then the enthusiasm wanes, I feel tired or uninspired, there are other things I would rather be doing and in short we end up living in CHAOS. For those unacquainted with Flylady it means Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome and that describes my house. I have become in some ways a bit of a recluse. Can't have anyone over 'cos the house is so awful, feel guilty about going to their house 'cos there are so many things I should be doing in my house, get waylaid doing stuff at home that doesn't include cleaning and hey presto, the vicious circle repeats itself...and if that I tautology I apologise.

Chickabid has started wandering about the house using Baby Steps. It looks so cute, tiny little dolly steps getting him from point A to point B. Sure it is slow, very,very slow, but he gets there in the end. The main thing is that he gets there.

Maybe that is where I need to begin. With Baby Steps...not to have the whole house cleaned and decluttered by 9 o'clock tomorrow morning. That is unrealistic and I'll get disillusioned before I even begin. But maybe I could try rising two hours earlier...like 6.30, and have the washing out on the line and the kitchen cleaned before Chickabid wakes. That would at least begin the day in a positive way. All I can do is try.

So here goes, tomorrow I will try. I'll even get a step ahead by cleaning the kitchen tonight, before I go to bed. That way one job is completed before I try to face the day.

I have to get out of this rut. It is destructive and depressing and with Finty due in five months I can't afford to let either of those emotions get a toehold.

Here goes...I can but try.

Check in tomorrow evening for a progress report.

28/9/2002

Haven't written for ages. After writing the last entry on my nursing experiences I felt drained and the task of sitting down and pounding out a new entry was just too much. BTW the diary entry just didn't fall out of the stratosphere...it came about as a result of an article I read in the Sunday paper. There was a huge conference held in Sydney on childhood obesity the reasons for and how to prevent it. Some learned person put forward the theory that childhood obesity is linked to bottlefeeding and if we all just breastfed our babies, childhood and indeed adult obesity would leave the planet. It makes me incredibly angry when these academics make such statements. It is hard enough for the bottle feeding mum without landing all this extra guilt. Bottlefeeding apparently is also responsible for low levels of intelligence as well as obesity, not to mention vulnerability to childhood illnesses...oh please! No-one least of all me will deny that breast is best, but I would add the following qualifier...breast is best if the mother has milk and if the baby is feeding well and gaining weight. It might be natural, but it doesn't work for everyone. Insulin is a product naturally manufactured by the body, just like breast milk, except some people have bodies that don't co-operate and they have to take insulin artificially. We call those people diabetics...we don't blame them for every social ill and chill.

When Chickabid was about 4 months old we started attending a playgroup. Unfortunately I was accosted by a Breastfeeding Nazi who also attended playgroup, who wanted to know why I was bottlefeeding the baby (as if it was any of her business). I told her that I didn't have any milk. Her response "You just didn't try hard enough". I nearly punched her.

Now, 19 months later I can look back and most of the anger has gone. Some still lingers...how can a mother be judged like this? I feel sad that the whole issue has become one of apportioning blame and finding fault. If a mother bottlefeeds, obviously she is an inadequate mother who just didn't try and if her child grows up overweight and stupid and sickly, then it is all her fault.

Of course the above is all nonsense, but try telling that to a mum who wanted to feed, but couldn't.

Now that I am expecting the FintyBaby I am reading through all my mothercare books again. They all contain the same statement...if you choose not to breastfeed blah blah blah. There is no recognition in any of them that some mothers may not choose bottlefeeding, but have that choice thrust upon them through no fault of their own. If only that would happen I would feel validated and less of a failure as a mother.

14/9/2002

This is my breastfeeding story.

 

9th November 2000

Chickabid is born at 7.01 pm. He doesn't breathe and is rushed to the resus trolley where he is suctioned, bagged and given Narcan (I was given pethidine 1 1/2 hours before he was born and this probably depressed his respiratory system. This was not supposed to happen. After 6 hours labour I was 5cm dilated...asked for and was given pethidine. The pethidine caused instant and total dilation. Just lucky I guess) Chickabid revived with the Narcan but was in respiriatory distress. We held him for about 45 minutes, during which I tried to bf, but as he couldn't breathe properly it was a bit pointless. He was placed in a humidicrib, on oxygen, with tubes and wires everywhere and a canula in his tiny hand with antibiotics and fluids. With the help of a wonderful midwife I begin expresing colostrum.

10th November

I continue expressing colostrum. This is painful beyond belief except when L. is in charge. Manage to express one whole millilitre. This is fed to Chickabid through a nasal gastric tube. Chickabid weights 5 pounds 12 ounces. More expressing colostrum through the day. Chickbid has a number of convulsions and is placed on medication to sedate him in order to stop the convulsions.

More expressing of colostrum. Every three hours...around the clock.

11th November

Express colostrum. Begin to learn how to take care of Chickabid around all the tubes and wires. Waiting for milk to come in. Nothing. Continue to express colostrum.

Around 7pm Chickabid becomes incredibly distressed. Midwife in special care nursery wants me to bf him to help him calm down. I can't get there fast enough. This is the first time I have held chickabid since he was born. He latches on ok and sucks. I begin to feel like a mother. For the first time since my son came into the world I feel like a mum.

12th November

6am

I have another cuddle. So does Mr Bear. I try to feed Chickabid. He can't remember how to suck. He can't latch on. I can't get the technique right. It is a disaster. I begin crying inside.

Dr checks baby. He is losing a dangerous amount of weight. Still expressing colostrum/milk...5 to 10 mls at a time...both breasts combined, not each. Dr orders formula through nasogastric tube. It is to be mixed with EBM (expressed breast milk) and delivered straight to chickabid's stomach. He is stil living in the humidicrib.

Begin using breast pump to build supply as I am not making enough. Still waiting for milk to come in.

Late...

Midwife spends a couple of hours helping me bf Chickabid. Chickabid not co-operating. Won't latch on, won't suck. At least I start to hold him right.

13th November

Another midwife teaches Chickabid how to suck. He keeps falling asleep before he can get enough fluid. Is being weighed daily...losing weight. Still waiting for milk to come in. Experience no let down reflex.

Expressing by hand and pump still. Chickabid getting EBM through NG tube. Magage 20 mls at one stage...VERY excited!

14th November

Chickabid out of humidicrib and in tiny cot. Still expressing...still waiting for milk to come in. Feeding Chickabid every three hours. 20 mls an aberration...get about 10 mls each time.

When I am not feeding I am on the breast pump. No milk coming in, no let down reflex.

15th November

At last a tiny weight gain. Not much but enough. Chickabid off formula and on EBM but still through tube. Still feeding him myself every three hours. Pretty tired.

16th November

Another gain! Less through the NG tube, more straight from Mummy. Less expressing and more feeding.

17th November

NG tube out...feeding from Mummy. If there is a weight gain tomorrow we can go home. Chickabid still on sedative.

18th November

More weight gained. We can go home. As Chickabid gains weight he'll wean himself off the sedation. Appointment made to see Dr in 7 days. pack everything, final goodbyes to room 352 we are going home.

Arrive home. Everything wrong. Can't focus. Keep reading cards about how much joy a baby brings. Baby NOT a joy. My life has ended, nothing will ever be the same. Want the baby to go away. Keep feelings hidden from Mr Bear. Pretend everything is ok.

19th November

Cannot pretend any longer. Wake up in major depression. Can't eat, can't drink. Just cry all the time. Can't get out of chair.

Don't know what is happening with Chickabid...don't really care.

Hospital ring to check...are we ok...Mr Bear says no. Referral sent by fax to baby health clinic for Monday morning.

20th November

Worse than yesterday. Convinced that we have made biggest mistake of entire lives. Feel like a total failure as a mother. BF every three hours during the day and on demand at night. Chickabid not demanding much.

Clinic nurse visits. Chickabid is weighed. Has lost 100g since discharge from hospital. My milk is drying up...such as it was. Instructed to feed every three hours around the clock.

Weight loss has made sedative more, rather than less effective. Baby sleeping all the time.

Begin setting alarm at night to wake us, so we can wake the baby and feed him. Feel slightly ridiculous having to do this.

21st November

Lost day.

Not sleeping...baby sleeps constantly.

22nd November

Still not sleeping. Still feeding every three hours. Still setting alarm.

23rd November

Chickabid has lost yet more weight. Clinic nurse advises one formula feed a day as baby is dangerously underweight. Advises expressing after every feed to build supply. Can't recommend a formula...not allowed to by law...don't want to supplement with formula...it will spell the end of bfing...don't want baby to die either. Have to choose a formula based on no information. Get Karicare because it has the same ingredients as everything else and has a bear on the tin.

New routine...

4pm wake baby...rub all over with wet cold face cloth, take outside, do anything to wake the baby up.

4.30 Begin feeding baby. Sucks from left side 40 minutes...burp baby

Change sides...wake baby up again...feed from right side 40 minutes. 2 hours since feeding process began

6.00pm Change baby, wrap, settle to sleep

Begin expressing. Express 15 minutes each side. Total of 20 ml expressed.

6.30 Half an hour to go until next feed. Can't settle to sleep. Mr Bear tries reading me to sleep. As soon as his voice stops I wake.

7.00 pm wake baby...continue ad infinitum.

No sleep today at all.

24th November

6 am Stinking hot day. Baby won't feed. Won't take formula, breast, EBM or boiled water. No wet nappies. Can't wake baby enough to feed him.

2 pm Still no wet nappies...baby won't suck...take baby to ER. Dr removes nappy...baby wees all over bed

Sent home with platitudes. Get electric breast pump from chemist. Makes life easier...a bit

Baby sleeping all the time...I haven't slept for close to 48 hours. Still expressing.

25th November

Clinic nurse visits with Lactation Consultant. Checks feeding method, posture everything. Everything fine. Chcikabid has lost more weight. LC insists on 3 formula feeds a day. Breast first everytime though. Have to agree...baby fading before our eyes.

Feed chickabid 40 minutes each side...baby then takes 50-80ml formula. Doesn't take Einstein to figure that he is not getting much from me.

Visit hospital...midwife takes one look at me and baby...rings Dr instantly. I am close to being psychotic. Baby lying like lump of lead Dr examines mother and baby. Organises placement at mother and baby clinic for next day.

No sleep in 72 hours. Crying constantly.

26th November

Check into Tresillian. Three of us can stay. Staff take baby at midnight, return him at 6am...I have 6 hours uninterrupted sleep. We are not alone. Nurses so kind and supportive. Counsellor wonderful. All meals supplied...everything taken care of. All I do is feed and sleep.

27th November

Staff take baby at midnight again. Another 6 hours sleep. Able to nap in the day again. Express 50 mls!!! Leak in the night!!!

I am feeding my baby!

28th November

Back to expressing 20ml again. This is after a three hour break...should be full of milk, but nothing. Maternity bras less than full.

Breast first, followed by bottle, three times a day. Breast only for remaining feeds.

29th November

Baby gaining weight. Produces 40g of wee! Am beginning to feel normal...starting to like baby.

30th November

More weight gained.

Baby more alert...beginning to behave like newborn. No more setting alarm at night

1 December

More weight gained.

Baby screams in bath for the first time. No longer so sleepy.

2 December

Yet more weight. We can go home tomorrow. Still combining breast and bottle...still expressing

3 December

Chickabid a normal baby...mummy on the way to recovery.

This continued for another 3 and a half weeks. 2x50ml bottles a day, 1x100 ml bottle last thing at night, breast before bottle.

26th December

7 pm

Baby latches on...gets crankier and crankier...begins pounding at breast and crying into my face. He is getting nothing. This is no longer enjoyable for either of us. I stop feeding. Cold Turkey.

No engorgement...no pain...no nothing. There was nothing there.

I begin grieving for this experience that I have lost.

5% of women fail to lactate. Why did I have to be one of the 5%?