S I X T E E N weeks of Dash

In keeping with the spirit of this blog, Dash is actually 17 weeks and 5 days old today. But we aren't counting like that anymore! We're onto the 'how old is your baby?' "Oh he's four months old" "oh really? What a big boy!" "thank you kindly" responses now. 

I feel as though I am wearing these fantastic Mum goggles recently. Not to be confused with my actual new glasses I have been sporting due to pregnancy induced poor vision. The Mum goggles make you look at your baby and think dear Lord! I have created perfection! I must submit my baby to every modelling agency there is! But then no I shouldn't cause surely the world can't handle this amount of angelic cuteness. 

Seriously. But I'm sure every other Mum in the history of Mums feels the same so it's fine.

At sixteen weeks we're into swimming lessons. Wearing the most adorbs speedos with crabs and sharks on his butt. Basically the parents have to swim around awkwardly while holding their pride and joy above water while they kick and splash and then sing silly songs to make things more awkward. But it's really worth it when everyone holds their baby in the centre of the circle and they all look around like it's the best thing ever.

He thinks its hilarious when you smoosh your face into his neck and make noises. His preferred way of drifting off to sleep is to make all of the noises he can, as loud as he can for as long as he can. Even at 3am. I can't even be mad because it is so. dang. cute.  

So yes, I love my baby, I am that mother I never thought I would be and we have our four month injections in the morning. pray for me. 

How to prepare for your baby's blood test

A how-to post! This is actually not a how-to post because nothing on earth can prepare you for your baby getting a blood test. Babies should not have their blood tested. Ever. 

Last Thursday we had to take Dashiell in to get his second blood test. His first blood test was done when he was three weeks old by the most capable nurse I ever did see. She was calm and steady and used the tiniest of butterfly needles to swiftly jab our little baby. 

His second blood test was the most horrendous thing I've ever seen and I will never forget the experience for as long as I live. When we arrived at pathology we met with a few nurses. Within three seconds I secretly wished that there were more nurses behind the counter because these people just didn't seem capable. They told us we could only get it done when two nurses were available, one to hold baby down, one to take blood. We were also told that 'a fair amount of blood' was needed and that I should 'feed him really well' beforehand. 

Alarm bells. 

The blood test went a little something like - nurse pins down baby, baby screams, Mum tries frantically to distract baby, second nurse jabs baby with larger needle, needle misses vein, baby screams louder, nurse fishes around under baby's skin to try and find vein, baby thrashes around and screams a scream no mother ever wants to hear, Mum sees vein about to collapse, yells at Nurse to stop, ten minutes pass by, only half the amount of blood is collected, baby takes 30 minutes to calm down, Mum is never the same. 

SO!

If your baby needs a blood test, first of all, I am sorry. There's no way it will be a pleasant experience. Second of all, now that I have been through this horror; here are a few tips. 

• Trust your Mum instinct. If you don't feel like you're in capable hands, turn around and go home. Find another pathology lab, a different nurse and make sure you feel comfortable with the people taking your baby's blood. 
• Dress your baby really warm and cozy. Apparently it's easier to take blood when baby is super warm. 
• Feed them right before hand but have some milk/your boobies ready to go for after because this might be one of those times when only milk can calm them.
• Stay calm. Which, you know, is ridiculous for me to say seeing as though I shook like a leaf for hours after but it is important that baby knows the world isn't ending. The bigger picture is that the blood test is needed and they won't remember a thing an hour later. 
• Be confident and feel comfortable telling the nurse it's time to stop. If it isn't going to plan and you feel like something is off, don't be afraid to call it off. I'm one of those people who listens to doctors and nurses and mostly does whatever they recommend. However! If they're pushing you to keep going but you know your baby has had enough, just call it how it is and hightail it out of there. 
• Don't make any other plans for the day and get it done in the morning. We made the mistake of getting it done in the afternoon after a morning of shopping. Don't make that mistake! Make sure you and baby are as relaxed and well rested as possible and then go ahead and spend the rest of the day cuddling and smooching and nursing and watching netflix. 

I don't think I have any more wisdom to offer... Except maybe to just be the best parent you can be. If you can't stand to hold your baby down and have to step out of the room, don't feel guilty. If you can't stand to watch the needle, don't feel guilty about that either. Just do your best and your baby will love you anyway. 

Good luck! smooch your babies! Pictures of Dash in a sink cause I can!

Fat CF babies are the best CF babies

We had clinic on Monday. 

The three monthly event where we spend 5 hours+ in the paeds department, in a lovely little room with DD on the door for baby Dash Dew. We catch up with seven different doctors and specialists and review progress, adjust medications, ask questions, order tests etc. etc. 

I sit with my note pad and enormous folder that contains Dash's story. A collection of medical history, referrals, test results, likes and dislikes to name a few. I ask all the questions I've written down over the past few weeks, sip my coffee and scoff down a sandwich between sessions. I bounce the baby, get him weighed and measured, let the doctors listen to his chest and put him to sleep when he's had enough. 

The first time we went through this Dash was two weeks and four days old. Nick and I were slammed with information and saw so many different people, all claiming to help our son and us in different ways. 

I don't remember everything from that day, it was so overwhelming. I do however remember one little comment made by our paediatrician in the most light hearted way. 

He said fat CF babies are the best CF babies. 

I took that to heart.

I'm that Mum who congratulates their baby when they plop on the scales. I'm the Mum who whips their boobs out anywhere, in front of anyone, at any time. I'm the Mum who really, actually seriously, likes getting up at 2 or 3 or 4am to feed the baby. I'm the Mum with 5,000 photos of the baby, taken in the armchair where we feed. I'm the Mum who wants to fist bump other Mums for feeding their babies, whatever way they can. 

Feeding baby Dash and fattening him up is my number one priority in life. On Monday, every single doctor and specialist was impressed with Dash's weight and growth and I couldn't be prouder. He's growing fat rolls and he's sitting just under the 85th percentile for weight and height and it's all thanks to a bit of medicine and my boobies. 

We're winning over here and it feels so dang good!

That escalated quickly.

Because I was teaching myself how to correct the white balance in photoshop.

And then because Molly Jacques was an angel from heaven and gave the people a wicked brush font for free.

And just now because of this.

His very first bath.

Nick only filled it up half way because we were so scared he would some how slip out of our grasp and drown. Then I undressed him and plopped him in while he screamed his loudest and proudest in protest of the cold.

He was three days old.

He had a rash on his chin from sucking too ferociously every two hours. He was still wearing a bandaid on his heel from the newborn screening test he had done that day. The midwives confirmed my suspicions of slight jaundice, nothing a little sunlight couldn't heal though. He was washed with all natural soaps and a tiny little washcloth as big as he was, right on the kitchen bench next to the fruit bowl. His two dogs were standing guard beneath him making sure his parents weren't torturing him.

We treated him like he was made of glass. We got him out, wrapped him up tight and dried him off. I gave him a baby massage with oil and dressed him in a 00000 sized singlet and the fluffiest, tiniest, white jumpsuit I could find.

We took 104 photos and two videos of his first bath and thank goodness because I don't remember anywhere near enough of life with a three day old baby Dash. I just remember feeling like it was my birthday/christmas eve/that time Nick Dewey smooched me all in one and times one billion.

I planned on just posting a photo of my baby ham in the big bath because he's nearly outgrown the baby bath and now look, I'm near sobbing. I need to stop wasting hours looking at newborn photos.

Naht.

T W E L V E weeks of Dash

Poor kid doesn't know what to think! Probably because his mother is all..

24/7. But not really! Such Mum guilt over that stupid phone that is attached to my fingers.

So anyway, some photos of the Dash at 12 weeks old! Cliches here we come; time is flying. The days are long but the months are short. My baby is literally bigger after every nap. He only wore that outfit one time. He never got the chance to wear that other outfit. Cherish every moment. Etc. etc.

12 week old Dash Dew (actually 13 weeks old because it takes me a week between snapping pictures and blogging) is very noisy. 

legit noisy. 

I will put him down after his 2am feed and he will gurgle and mumble and make all sorts of impossibly cute noises until he falls asleep again. He'll also do this when he is supposed to be nursing, while in the bath, when anyone is looking at him, while he's playing on his mat.. You know, all the time. Which I am LOVING. My baby talking is the sweetest sound I have ever heard, ever. 

Dash Dew is all about the 00 sized clothes these days. And this week even some of those are looking a bit snug (Eeek!). His favourite person is his Pop but we all have a theory that this is just because Pop is always wearing Hi-Vis.

We're getting so close to sleeping through the night! I won't mind if he takes a little bit longer though because those 2am feeds are pretty lovely. The 6am feeds on the other hand, they are rough. 

Basically, despite his illness, Dash Dew is all sorts of fat and healthy and happy and we couldn't be prouder.

That postpartum body nobody warned me about

To be perfectly honest, when 9 months pregnant, I thought that I would have the baby (a girl) and be back in my old wardrobe in a month. I was so excited! I was actually pulling out my pre baby, pre wedding clothes and getting ready to be that stylish Mama with a thigh gap and a toned stomach toting around a headband wearing newborn.

Haha.

Times a million.

Why did no one warn me that your body changes? I mean they did (thanks Mum) but why didn't I listen? Why didn't I prepare myself with some clothes that were a few sizes bigger than I used to wear? I am twelve weeks postpartum and you better believe I am still rocking those maternity tunics. I'm wearing one right now!

It occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that I should try and get back in shape so that I could wear the twelve pairs of jeans waiting for me instead of the one pair from Kmart that are taking a beating. Yes, Kmart. I was desperate.

It was also around that time that I took notice of the influx of Michelle Bridges ads. You know the ones, the women who have halved their body weight talk about how the 12WBT program changed their lives... whatever. I didn't consider something like the 12WBT program earlier because while I have 12kgs to lose still, I just thought it would drop off as I breast fed my baby. Plus, surely I wasn't that girl that needed step by step guidance.

Haha.

If the weight hasn't melted off me in twelve weeks I think I need to actively do something to get fit. So I am. I signed up because hallelujah! There is a program for new Mums! With a big enough calorie intake to make sure there is no messing with milk supplies because jeans mean nothing compared to feeding my baby.

Anyway, anyway, consider this my public declaration that I, Mrs Dew, paid $200 to Michelle Bridges to get fit and I bloody well will.

Also here is my adorable 12 week postpartum selfie, taken with my baby shield.

Now wish me luck and cross your fingers that I lose 12 kgs in 12 weeks.

Haha.

(I'll settle for 6)

The Fourth Annual Santa Speedo Shuffle

Disclaimer: this post contains photos that may or may not be offensive... I don't mind looking at my Husband and our mates in speedos one little bit but you might so I suggest doing the old quick scroll. 

The Fourth Annual Santa Speedo Shuffle was a roaring success. We raised over $105,000 as a community for the Cystic Fibrosis Association ACT and Nick's team raised over $14,500. Which won them second place and lit a fire in all of our bellies to come up with the goods next year. 

As the santas took to the start line, sleet started falling from the sky, hitting their bare red skin like needles. The wind was ridiculously rude whipping them from all sides and the sun was a bitch showing up for a second here and there but mostly staying put behind clouds. Apparently it was the first time the event had seen bad weather... 

Dash was so impressed he started crying uncontrollably, so badly in fact that the only thing that would calm him was a feed. So there we were, at the start line, facing 70+ santas and I had to whip my nipples out. Guess it's only fair considering every one else's attire. Anyway that explains the unimpressed look on my face up there.

You might ask what on earth I was doing with a 10 week old baby in the freezing cold. Well, people with Cystic Fibrosis can't mingle. To me that is one of the most devastating things about the illness because it can be so isolating. Being outdoors around other people with the illness reduces the risk of cross contamination so outside we stayed and no colds or bugs were caught. Thank goodness.

This year the number of Dash supporters was outrageous. He had three teams representing him full of 20 friends and family. He had the above turkeys working the start and finish line water station in his honour. He had his grandparents, uncle, our friends parents, nicks work colleagues and even his uncle's dog cheering on the Santa's on his behalf. He was also represented by Spongebob Squarepants and a lone Minion. 

To say Nick and I were overwhelmed by the amount of love and support we were shown is an understatement. We are so incredibly thankful to everyone who showed up for us and for the association, to everyone who donated and to everyone that wished us well. 

Yes we are running again next year. Yes there will be more of us. Yes we will have matching team Dash shirts. I even plan on running with Dash in the pram! Maybe actually shuffling/walking...