Two weeks today.
Two whole weeks since this little madam arrived.
Two whole weeks of love.
This week saw the arrival of Olivias first tooth.
No, you didn’t misread that.
Olivia cut her first tooth at 4 days old.
‘What thaa….’ I hear you cry. My thoughts exactly. Turns out she was born with a tooth. A neonatal tooth is what they referred to it as. Rare, can often be harmless and unknown as to why some babies have them.
This tooth contributed to feeding woes & poor weight gain – she’d gone right down to just under 5lbs – and ultimately led to her re-admission, this time to the special care baby unit.
So definitely not ‘harmless’ in our case.
The tooth got whipped that day – cue lots of crying, (moreso from mum than baby mind you) but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to avoid an admission and poor miss Liv went through days of needles, light therapy and general jiggling about. Meanwhile, I got days worth of sleeplessness, feeding every 2hours and electric breast pumps being permanently attached. Well, it felt like permanent.
Personal highlight was an old school friend, who happened to work there, poking her head round the curtain as I sat there topless, with two pumps attached, simultaneously milking me like a cow.
‘Oh, hi there.’
What I will say, is that the staff in there are absolute angels. I think I cried about 764hrs a day while I was in there, and every time, there was always someone on hand to comfort and remind me that I wasn’t a crap mum and failing my baby.
All this, while also showing me the best way to feed her and the different positions to get myself into to successfully get her to latch on. Turns out that pinching my breast and contorting it into some sort of weird shape, while simultaneously ramming my baby’s open mouth onto it was best….
Which, as it turns out, is near on impossible when doing it yourself! However, a good few feeds in, I was feeling really confident with my feeding, and despite the fact that I’d had more people fondle my breasts in those few days than I’d had in all my life, I didn’t even care – As long as it benefited my baby!
Thankfully, after a few days, Liv was fit and well enough to come home. I’d got myself into quite a little routine in the hospital and it felt like a big, massive comfort blanket having the midwives around 24/7, just incase I struggled to settle/feed/keep her alive. Therefore, although I was excited to get home and establish some sort of ‘routine’ with her, I had quite a lot of anxiety!
But I guess nobody is ever fully ready??
Let’s see what the following days have in store for us!