Twenty-Five Weeks. Four Days. Day 181 in the quest to meet our little miracle George

As we drove to the coast this morning and as my mind wandered a thousand miles away i remembered a few years ago there was a story in the news about a woman who was kicked out of a restaurant for breast feeding.  It caused such an uproar in womans rights groups, and it was in the media for weeks, people debating what was right, what was wrong, what was fair, who had the most power, whos choice it was in the end… On and on round and round!  I look back on that now and it gets me thinking about what i may do in such situations, what i will do when it comes to feeding my child in public.

Now i am not a judgmental person, i am not someone who would tell someone else what to do, and i certainly have no problem with women feeding in public – Each to their own, thats what they say – if a woman chooses to feed her child in public than that is the mothers right – agreed? Yes i agree, however i also believe there is a way to go about it, a discrete way where no one feels offended or uncomfortable.

My husband and i were shopping a year or so back and we decided to stop for lunch at a coffee shop in the middle of the supermarket – you know the ones, the ones where the chairs are so close together that you are basically sitting on top of the next patron.  We ordered and sat down with our number.  Then a woman and her child sat down in the chair behind me, before anything further happened she popped out a boob and started feeding.

Now before you go and get crook at me for saying it like that, it was literally like that – she seriously popped out her boobs in the middle of the cafe! She was not wearing the right sort of clothes to inconspicuously feed, she was not wearing a feeding bra, she just lifted her shirt up popped one of the arms out so her shirt was half off and lifted her bra – she was basically half naked.  She chose not to use one of those breast feeding blankets, and basically everything was on show.

Now the problem was not the fact that she was doing it, nor the fact that she chose not to cover herself or the baby, it was just simply the fact that everyone else felt uncomfortable.  It was one of those situations where you dont want to look, but you cant avoid not looking, where when ever you turn your head in that direction you are confronted by boobs.  My poor husband was trying so hard not to look in that direction, he just didnt know where to look! If he looked at me, it appeared like he was staring at the lady, if he turned his head away, it appeared as if he was trying not to look at the lady… i had to laugh at the relief in his eyes when his food came just so he could look at it!

So i wonder, not that there is a right way to go about it or a wrong way to go about it, but what is the polite way of feeding?

When you are at the shops, do you go to the mothers room?

When you are at a family gathering, so you excuse yourself for a while?

What do other people feel comfortable with?  Not me specifically, but the people around me?

What do you do when you are confronted with situations where people arnt understanding?  And does that happen often?

And my other question is, which may be a completely different blog post…. How the hell do those contraptions work?

A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval. Mark Twain

Twenty-Five Weeks. Two Days. Day 179 in the quest to meet our little miracle George

I am growing to love my husband in a whole new way…  As a friend as well as the man i love.

You see, my husband and i have now been together for ten years, nearly, and while last year the struggles we faced both tore us apart and brought us together, this year we have learned to be, well friends.

And i know what you are probably thinking, shouldn’t you already be friends? Isnt that the basis of a great relationship… Well yes, yes i believe it is, and we always have been great friends, but over the years our lives have changed, our personalities have defiantly changed, and well, i think our friendship began to suffer from all the changes and day to day routine.

In the past five months, the joy of what is ahead, the excitement and the anxiousness of the unknown has really brought us together, and to be honest i think our developing friendship also has something to do with the fact that the pressures of sex and ‘baby making’ are no longer in the equation.

Take away the stress of having to ‘baby dance‘, and i am not just talking about timing, i am talking about sex completly…

Because it just freaks me out completely (eww there is a baby in there!) and because of the ‘high risk’ of this pregnancy we have been told to ‘keep it in our pants’…  It has at times been hard (harder for dh i assume) however i truly believe that this may be why our relationship, our friendship is growing.

At night before we fall asleep, we talk.  In the morning before we get out of bed we talk… We actually talk… Something that we havent really ever had ‘time’ to do.  And it makes me wonder sometimes if maybe friendship is more valuable in a relationship than passion?

I honestly dont think a relationship would be able to survive without the passion ofcouse, however, well, which one is more important?  Which one will make you last the distance, which one is going to keep you together until your death beds?

And when sex is part of the equation again (hopefully soon) will our friendship stay as strong? Will we have grown together in a way that is permanent? Or maybe we will have lost the passion and it will all fall apart?

We have come so far together i can only hope that this will make us stronger, but sometimes you just have to wonder…

Passion V Friendship, which is more valuable in a relationship?

They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel. Carl W. Buechner

Twenty-Five Weeks. Day 177 in the quest to meet our little miracle George

Oh my oh my, what a smell!

This sunday i worked hard, i worked harder than i anticipated, and i only hope that once again i havent done too much…   Which i seem to be doing a lot of lately…

Sunday i spent the day finishing my little miracles room -well apart from the door, and the border, and the furniture, and the curtains, and the rug, and the finishing touches… okay okay, so really i all i have almost finished is painting the room!  And i am not quite sure that i should have been doing the work that i was doing, i am not quite sure that all those smells wernt too good for my precious little one, and i am not quite sure that the smell that is STILL lingering around now will be gone in time for georges arrival, i only hope that it will be.

You see if there is one little thing i have a little bit of obsessive compulsive about, it is the types of paint used when painting bedrooms, and while some may not understand, i have to let you know that it matters to me, and it matters to the way the beautiful room will look in the end.

Sunday i painted with enamel paint – a must when you are painting the skirtings and architraves of ANY room… None of that arcylic base stuff, it just doesnt have the same appeal and shine that the enamel gives.  But now that all is said and done  i am not too sure now if i may have gone overboard and not stopped when i should have stopped… I think purely by the fact that i got paint in my hair and didnt notice that this may have been an indication that i may just have overdone it, tired myself out!

I can tell you that i dont think my george liked it very much, there was alot of kicking happening as i painted and even now the smell lingering though our home is very overwhelming and as i lay in bed both sunday and monday nights, i found it hard to escape that sick feeling you get when the air is stale.  And i am beginning to worry about my little one in there and whether things things, whether smells that strong can harm a tiny baby?

I really hope the smell goes soon, and i really hope that the smell has not harmed my little miracle, and i really hope that the paint in my hair that i see each morning can remind me to SLOW down… just take a step back and realise that i need to breath, and take it easier…

Otherwise who knows, i will end up being permanently stained all over with enamel paint!

Character is what emerges from all the little things you were too busy to do yesterday, but did anyway.  ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, 1966

Twenty-Four Weeks. Five Days. Day 175 in the quest to meet our little miracle George

Yesterday we conquered a milestone, we bought our first box of nappies, and last night, as we sat next to the fire, enjoying the company of my in laws, the discussion of the nappies came about…

I am just going to say it, it has never once crossed my mind to use cloth nappies, i have one thought about this – and in my mind all i think is YUCK!  We have budgeted for disposable, and i see no reason not too, they are cleaner, less smelly, and i have been told lead to less nappy rash…

But it does make for interesting discussions….

I have been told that it is just way to expensive to use them all the time, but after conversations this morning, it seems apparent to me that when you consider the washing powder, electricity, plus the time and effort involved, it is really not worth it…

I have been told they are better for baby, but i ask, how?  How are they any different, as i have also been told that you have to put liners in them any way? So what is the difference?

How can half my life devoted to cleaning, washing, and drying nappies be better for my child?

And one last question, what the heck do you do with them when your shopping?  Carry around poo all day? BLUUCCCK!

So what is it about people and cloth nappies, what is it that is making people turn a nose down at my decision, why am i being made to feel bad because i want to buy them?  Is there something i am missing? Is there a secret that i have not been told, is there an evil i am unaware of?

And if there is some hidden evil, will it really change my mind? I am a mother of the 21st century, i shouldnt feel bad for my choice…

Allow the world to live as it chooses, and allow yourself to live as you choose. Richard Bach