I had an interesting conversation with a good friend the other day about nappies; from this point further, I will refer to the following conversation as "nappygate". There are a few reasons that I need to work and getting away from conversations about feeding, nappies and general stay-at-home mum chit chat (in this case, via e-mail), is one of them. If I did, the red mist would veil across my eyes and I would say something that probably wouldn't go down well with a skinny latte and Belgium Bun.
My friend was saying that "nappygate" began by a fellow Alpha mum, who usually stands firmly in the Pampers camp, stating in a group e-mail that she had discovered how wonderful Aldi nappies were. I'm not sure what she was expecting; maybe because they are cheaper she assumed they would be a piece of tissue paper bound by cellotape?
Anyway, my friend replied back to the group that she agreed and said that she had been using them with her son since he was born. Subsequently, the Alpha Mum made a curt reply asking why she had failed to share this information with the group before? My response would have been "Because I'm normal and very busy and unless it comes up in conversation, I don't feel the need to 'spread the word' about nappies; especially via E-mail!" However, my friend is far more diplomatic than me and replied in a way that pacified the situation.
The "nappygate" conversation took an unexpected turn when one of the mum's, a stay-at-home Alpha mum, piped up about the conservationist implications of disposable nappies. Instead, she told the group that she used the re-usable nappies that you can now buy. You know the ones, they are like the terries that you used to wear as a baby with a fabric re-usable nappy over them. Unlike terries, you don't have to have them drying everywhere for example, over the boiler and there is no fear of mutilating your baby with a safety pin.
Suddenly, my friend became like Switzerland in the online conversation with both disposable and reusable camps throwing verbal, sudocream-lined missiles across the virtual space of the internet.
The whole online debacle got me thinking about priorities and whether choosing disposable or re-usable should be one of them. Initially, when I was pregnant with Bethan, I was completely committed to using the re-usable kind because it was ethically the right thing to; or so it had been sold to me.
However, when Bethan was born, what type of nappies she would be wearing was low on my list of priorities as I sat by her incubator and watched her fight for her life. In fact, I'm not sure in the haze of it all, how Bethan actually got her nappies. The only thing of interest to me was being able to see how much the nappy weighed and whether it had any poo in it and what colour the poo was. Green good: brown bad.
Maybe what I am trying to say is that although the "nappygate" issue maybe environmentally important, it's all relative. A great deal of new parents don't get the choice as to which type of nappy you can use. Whether it's due to circumstances or the fact you live in the middle of a war-zone, sometimes spending your time fighting over your choice in nappies isn't worth it. Use your time more effectively by really appreciating the baby that is in it.
As my friend and I finished the conversation she said something very pertinent; stay-at-home mums are not full-time mums. We are all full-time mums whether we choose to work or not. This enlightening conversation with my good friend made me realise that there are a lot of Alpha Mums of the different variety; we are the alpha mums who don't spend as much time as we should trying to out-do each other or make others feel crap about their parenting skills. No. We are the alpha mums who do our best everyday and hope to God that we get it right and gracefully and modestly learn from a situation when we get it wrong. So there! ;-p
Showing posts with label neonatal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label neonatal. Show all posts
Sunday 5th May 2013: Day Four: No visitors today, just us (eek!)
Today was the first day on the campsite where we four were glamping, sorry, camping alone. For the previous couple of days we have had some visitors and it was fantastic to see them as they really helped with "Stop! James" who had a penchant for pulling himself up onto the free-standing and slightly unstable, gas cooker.
One of my friends who came to visit, brought her beautiful little girl who has been friends with Bethan since they were about 6 weeks old. This particular friend who I met when the girls were still babies completely knows and understands the PTSD I suffered in those first few months following Bethan's difficult birth. I credit meeting her and the other 3 mothers that I also met at that time with helping me learn to laugh and relax around what I considered to be my sick baby.
Back to the campsite.
So, this friend is a Therapist and I was telling her about the difficulties that I thought I would have with my OCD whilst living in a tent on a campsite. Let's face it, campsites aren't known for their 5 star award rating for cleanliness and my knuckles were already cracking and bleeding from the amount of washing and cleaning I had done in the lead up to our camping expedition. Unfortunately, this need to wash my hands before layering on copious amounts of anti-bacterial gel in addition to cleaning door handles at every possible opportunity, stems from being institutionalised on a neonatal ward where the cleanliness has to be meticulous, especially around the premmies.
However, my friend praised me for going on the campsite with my baby and embracing the whole 'back to nature' thing (even though we had an electric fridge and heater, to me I was still heading 'back to nature'). She continued to say that it is good to get out of your comfort zone and build your confidence and the children will benefit from that confidence too.
I'm not even going to suggest for one minute that my OCD is cured as I was on pins about not being able to sterilise (even though James was eating soil sandwiches) but I started to become accustomed to the fact that you can't control everything and dare I say it; I started to relax! Watching Bethan and Rob relax (James kind of did but he was on a Dora and Diego mission to get to the gooey geyser most days; at one point he crawled and climbed through our picnic so he could get to the purple, plastic spoon) really helped and for the first time in about 20 months, I managed to read my 'Time' magazine from cover to cover in one sitting. However, we still brought the cordless Dyson; just in case.
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Camping Etiquette - the children's playground *9
*Rob said that I forgot to include this in my previous camping etiquette guide. When on the children's playground, know your place. Priority for the swings and co goes in the following descending order:
1. Recurring visitors to the campsite.
2. Age - the older you are, the more likely you are to be able to go on the swings and flirt with the other teenagers from Meadow 4 who you see each Bank Holiday.
3. Bog - standard young campers like Bethan and James. They didn't care as Beth loved running after the frisbee, bat and ball and plastic skittles that we had brought with us and James enjoyed eating them :-)
One of my friends who came to visit, brought her beautiful little girl who has been friends with Bethan since they were about 6 weeks old. This particular friend who I met when the girls were still babies completely knows and understands the PTSD I suffered in those first few months following Bethan's difficult birth. I credit meeting her and the other 3 mothers that I also met at that time with helping me learn to laugh and relax around what I considered to be my sick baby.
Back to the campsite.
So, this friend is a Therapist and I was telling her about the difficulties that I thought I would have with my OCD whilst living in a tent on a campsite. Let's face it, campsites aren't known for their 5 star award rating for cleanliness and my knuckles were already cracking and bleeding from the amount of washing and cleaning I had done in the lead up to our camping expedition. Unfortunately, this need to wash my hands before layering on copious amounts of anti-bacterial gel in addition to cleaning door handles at every possible opportunity, stems from being institutionalised on a neonatal ward where the cleanliness has to be meticulous, especially around the premmies.
However, my friend praised me for going on the campsite with my baby and embracing the whole 'back to nature' thing (even though we had an electric fridge and heater, to me I was still heading 'back to nature'). She continued to say that it is good to get out of your comfort zone and build your confidence and the children will benefit from that confidence too.
I'm not even going to suggest for one minute that my OCD is cured as I was on pins about not being able to sterilise (even though James was eating soil sandwiches) but I started to become accustomed to the fact that you can't control everything and dare I say it; I started to relax! Watching Bethan and Rob relax (James kind of did but he was on a Dora and Diego mission to get to the gooey geyser most days; at one point he crawled and climbed through our picnic so he could get to the purple, plastic spoon) really helped and for the first time in about 20 months, I managed to read my 'Time' magazine from cover to cover in one sitting. However, we still brought the cordless Dyson; just in case.
------------------------------------------------
Camping Etiquette - the children's playground *9
*Rob said that I forgot to include this in my previous camping etiquette guide. When on the children's playground, know your place. Priority for the swings and co goes in the following descending order:
1. Recurring visitors to the campsite.
2. Age - the older you are, the more likely you are to be able to go on the swings and flirt with the other teenagers from Meadow 4 who you see each Bank Holiday.
3. Bog - standard young campers like Bethan and James. They didn't care as Beth loved running after the frisbee, bat and ball and plastic skittles that we had brought with us and James enjoyed eating them :-)
Thursday 31st January 2013
It is hard to believe that Bethan will be three tomorrow. We have been planning her birthday weekend alongside James' Christening for a number of months now and with the imminent arrival of all of our family from Wales and Manchester, it is hard not reflect on the fact that if it wasn't for the wonders of modern technology and the genius of Mr Tsang, her surgeon, we wouldn't be celebrating anything right now.
It is also a wonder that the good people of Ipswich have not locked their cars away in fear that their wheel trims might get nicked because of the slightly tainted reputation of Mancs and people from the Valleys. They have nothing to fear; those days are long behind me now. I'm a respected member of society in a reputable job with two young children to look after. Plus, with the economic downturn, wheel trims just don't hold their value the way they used to ;-)
Seriously though, this is the first time that Bethan will have had any immediate family with her for her actual birthday and it certainly feels very joyous and exciting. She hasn't been too well (raised temperature and all that) but I feel calm(er) than I thought I would. I know she is strong enough to fight any infection after fighting off several deadly ones when she was born and her bowel began to necrotise.
Up until this year I have selfishly dreaded Bethan's birthday because the memories of what happened up to her being born and then what happened immediately after were still painfully raw. Although I remember we had a good do for her first birthday as it coincided with Bethan being discharged from the care of the surgeon. We invited everyone including friends of ours who do not have children. One of them asked if they could bring anything so I said that they could make some jellies. When she turned up with vodka jellies I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself. I had to make sure that none of the children mistook them for the jelly that was to go with their ice cream.
Yes; tonight I will be raising a glass to all those amazing people who work in neonatal units around the country. And, like every night, I will say a wee prayer for Tommy, Amy-Leigh, Maxi, Ruby (with her angel wings), Evie, Bethan and Harriet and their mummy's and daddy's. We shared such a time on the intensive care unit and we still managed to laugh. Especially when we were sneaking in contraband teas and coffees to the unit :-)
Love you Bethan Alice; you're amazing xxx
It is also a wonder that the good people of Ipswich have not locked their cars away in fear that their wheel trims might get nicked because of the slightly tainted reputation of Mancs and people from the Valleys. They have nothing to fear; those days are long behind me now. I'm a respected member of society in a reputable job with two young children to look after. Plus, with the economic downturn, wheel trims just don't hold their value the way they used to ;-)
Seriously though, this is the first time that Bethan will have had any immediate family with her for her actual birthday and it certainly feels very joyous and exciting. She hasn't been too well (raised temperature and all that) but I feel calm(er) than I thought I would. I know she is strong enough to fight any infection after fighting off several deadly ones when she was born and her bowel began to necrotise.
Up until this year I have selfishly dreaded Bethan's birthday because the memories of what happened up to her being born and then what happened immediately after were still painfully raw. Although I remember we had a good do for her first birthday as it coincided with Bethan being discharged from the care of the surgeon. We invited everyone including friends of ours who do not have children. One of them asked if they could bring anything so I said that they could make some jellies. When she turned up with vodka jellies I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself. I had to make sure that none of the children mistook them for the jelly that was to go with their ice cream.
Yes; tonight I will be raising a glass to all those amazing people who work in neonatal units around the country. And, like every night, I will say a wee prayer for Tommy, Amy-Leigh, Maxi, Ruby (with her angel wings), Evie, Bethan and Harriet and their mummy's and daddy's. We shared such a time on the intensive care unit and we still managed to laugh. Especially when we were sneaking in contraband teas and coffees to the unit :-)
Love you Bethan Alice; you're amazing xxx
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