What Does Having a Baby Teach You?

Guess which one I am?!

As Baby Britney approaches her first birthday (yikes!) I'm in a reflective mood.

I still can't believe that this time last year I was pregnant, with all its associated stress, pain and daily woes. I remember it like it was yesterday, but I just somehow can't believe it ever happened. It's hard to equate the rambunctious, squeaking, peachy-headed munchkin in front of me to the 8 months of pregnancy I endured.  Which is quite ridiculous really, but there you go. 

So what have I learned over the last year? What does having a baby teach you? I won't wax lyrical about the capacity for love you realise exists deep within you, blah blah blah. That's a given. Trust me on this one.

I've thought long and hard about this and decided the number one thing I've learned is...patience. 

I'm a fast moving kinda gal. I walk fast, eat fast, talk fast. Speed is integral to my being. (Have you ever sat round a table with a group of PR people? They speak like the wind. A non PR friend likened it to: "Being put through a washing machine. On spin cycle.") 

Some people see this speed, this mercurial tendency, as a negative. They assume that to move so quickly, you must be feeling pressured and stressed. Quite the contrary. I love a bit of vigour, a bit of gumption. I'm at one with the universe when I'm making things happen, organising events/people. It's my version of Zen.

Then along comes a baby. They operate to their own, crazy timetable of insanity. They wake, eat, poop, scream, EXACTLY when they want. They are marching at the beat of their own teeny, tiny, ever so slightly bonkers drum. And there's very little you can do to influence them, in the early months. As they get bigger, sure, you can get them onto a routine. But things still take forever. You can't rush through bathtime. You can try. You can cut corners. But essentially, that baby won't be rushed through the process.

When you're pacing the floor in the dead of the night, sssh-patting for the third hour, for the fourth time that evening, you may wish with every fibre of your being that you can fast-forward through the torture. But you can't. You inch forward on your hands and knees, one second, one minute, one never-ending hour at a time.

Mealtimes are another thing that just cannot be rushed. Have you ever tried to feed a 9 month old baby that isn't interested in food? It takes cunning and wile. In this house we have to allow at least 30 minutes per meal. Often more. No scoffing food, no inhaling a tin of tomatoes and some brown rice, no existing on a banana and a handful of multi vitamins (her mother's staple diet) for Baby Britney.

You have to offer finger foods, which may or may not be eaten. (May not, frequently). When these finger foods are wobbling towards the tiny tyrant's mouth, you go in, like a ninja, with a spoon of lovingly made home cooked food. When this is inevitably rejected, you offer an Ella's pouch. 

You try to spoon feed. This is resisted. Food is flung on the floor. The walls. The ceiling. The cat. You cave, and food is slurped directly from the pouch. The pouch is then rejected. You scramble around inside the fridge for another option. This goes on, in all it's comedic glory, for a period of time that feels long enough for the Beatles to consider re-forming. Throw in the fact that your kitchen now resembles a Jackson Pollock painting and it's enough to give a clean freak like me a slow lingering heart attack.

Tracy Hogg, the Baby Whisperer (say what you like, I love her book) identifies this pretty early on and actually defines SLOW as: Stop, Listen, Observe, What's Up? It really applies to tiny babies who can't easily tell you what's wrong. You know, when they try their best to tell you by screaming for three hours every night from 4-7 pm. But it definitely applies to parenthood in general.

It's going to take you longer to leave the house, get in the car, leave the car. I'll be honest, that bit hasn't bothered me so much. Like I said, I'm a natural organiser, so I'm pretty much ready to leave at a moment's notice anyway. 

The hard bit was surrendering to the  general slow down in pace. Because surrender you must. You'll drive yourself mad trying to speed them up, it just isn't going to happen. The good thing about this? Babies live very much in the moment. Unlike adults, they're not ruminating and dissecting the previous day. Worrying about the past, scared of the future. They're just living their baby lives, one crazy minute at a time. Experiencing every touch, every sensation, every taste. Finding joy in the small things. 

As I type this, Baby Britney is chewing the tail of a toy cat. She's been at it for the last 15 minutes. Every few minutes she stops, inspects the tail, looks at me, and smiles a toothless smile of contentment. I'm telling you, babies have a lot to teach us. Slow down, and you'll hear them more clearly.

Baby Essentials - Number 2 - The White Noise App

Your life pre-baby may involve peace, quiet, and music. Ah, music. 

Babies, however, are not much interested in music. What they like are monotonous sounds...the vacuum cleaner, the washing machine, the hairdryer. As it isn't massively practical to carry any of these things round with you, I heartily recommend you invest in a white noise app. 

This amazing thing CHANGED OUR LIFE. It was 69p from the App Store - I am not exaggerating when I say I would have spent thousands on it. It has a good selection of sounds to choose from - we compromised on the 'Conch Shell' - a lovely sound of breaking waves, as I couldn't stand the hairdryer - it also has a timer that you can switch on for the first hour of baby going down in their cot. Once they are asleep it switches off. 

And get this: it then 'listens' to your baby. If they rouse, IT SWITCHES BACK ON.

There are no words to describe the genius of this. 

We only discovered this when Baby Britney (BB) was about 6 weeks old. I so wish we'd known sooner. It has helped to crack the non-napping in the daytime and she is so used to the routine of it after bath time that her eyes literally close as soon as it is switched on. 

Of course, this idea is not new - my mum's friend said she had a cassette tape of white noise that she used to play to her boys - but at least now we have the amazing technology to make it so much easier and portable.

I now watch the ipad like a hawk - our worst nightmare would be if the battery died!

Things I Missed When Up the Duff

If you enjoy it, you probably can't do it...sigh.

My pregnancy was classed as very high-risk. Not because of my age,although I was practically dead by Middle Eastern child-bearing standards, but due to a few health issues. 

Anyway, as a result, I missed some of the usual things that up the duff ladies miss, plus some that they don't: 

• Booze
• A night without getting up to wee every 30 seconds
• Running
• Walking or standing for longer than 20 mins (doctor's orders: I COULD physically walk for longer,but paid the price afterwards)
• Exercise of any sort (even pregnancy yoga was banned)
• Swimming (see above)
• Plane travel
• Lying on my front when sunbathing
• Lying on my front when attempting to sleep
• My Whistles skinny jeans (although was still in them at 20 weeks, mofos!)
• The spa (for the first 12 weeks)
• My sanity (to be fair whether this was in place before is up for debate)

It's not forever, although it feels like it. Repeat: it's not forever.

Annoying things people say to you when you have a baby: Enjoy every moment, it goes so fast

Time with a baby......sloooow.

On the surface, this is true.

Babies do grow at an incredible pace. If you stare at their feet you can almost see it happening - a bit like those time lapse cameras of leaves unfurling in the rainforest. Which is why you shouldn't buy too many pairs of socks. Their toes burst out of them like the hulk at warp speed.

And it is truly amazing that in 5 months, Baby Britney (BB) has tripled her birth weight.

But here's the rub: when you are spending every minute of every hour of every week of every month with the tiny tyrants, and surviving on 3 hours of broken sleep a night, time does not go fast.

Likewise at 6 am when you've been up all night trying to settle a fractious whinging baby, I assure you, the time does not whizz by.

It goes sloooooooooooooooowly.

Sometimes I would look at the clock thinking that the screaming must surely have been going on for hours, when it had actually just been ten minutes. Likewise, it was hard to believe that anything so small could scream for four hours. FOUR. HOURS. Ear plugs became my new best friends.

I found myself counting the hours AND minutes until DH came home from work, as at that point, I could pass BB over to him and breathe/shower/dress. Also, she then became partly his responsibility if anything went wrong.

Of course, there are joyous moments in all this, and you grasp and cling to them like a sailor lost at sea. But let's be clear, unless you are some sort of masochist, you are not going to enjoy every moment...so please don't feel guilty when you don't.

NB: No sooner had I written this post than a friend shared this on her Facebook. Great minds clearly think alike....

The First Few Magical Days with a New Baby

I smiled for days....

I promised I'd be honest about pregnancy, birth and babies, but for fear of terrifying my pregnant friends to within an inch of their lives, let's turn our attention to some of the wonderful parts of life with a small baby.

I had a hideous pregnancy full of pain, sickness, surgery and stress beyond my wildest dreams, so for me the best bit about having a baby was: I wasn't pregnant any more. 

And let's be clear: Nature is very clever.  Small newborn babies (your own) are hypnotic and addictive. And I've never been a baby-cuddler before. I'm also certainly not one of those people who trills that you 'forget all the pain' of childbirth as soon as the baby is in your arms. I had a lovely, planned, calm elective c-section, but let's be clear: the agony that followed will stay with me for the rest of my life. It didn't magically disappear.

I digress.

I had really struggled to believe that there was a teeny tiny person inside my stomach. Even as I ballooned in size, even as I felt the kicking inside me, my brain just could not compute that there was a little human being in there, at all. In fact right up until the moment that Baby Britney (BB) was hauled from my stomach, I had visions of my consultant saying: "No, no, nothing to see here. It's just doughnuts and Twirls I'm afraid."

I was metaphorically holding my breath when they were getting her out....partly because it's just the weirdest thing ever, a c-section, but mainly because I couldn't believe what was happening, and we were terrified that there might be something wrong (they had warned us that the baby was small, hence coming out a month early).

So when this tiny screaming bundle was held up, when they announced that 'it' was a girl, and she was perfect, my first instinctive reaction was to shout: "NO WAY!!!" It's amazing how shouting echoes off an operating theatre walls. It was a little inappropriate looking back, I blame the drugs.

This sense of disbelief stayed with me for days - especially as BB was taken away to NICU shortly after delivery. This meant that 45 minutes after giving birth, I had nothing to show for it, and didn't until lunchtime the next day.

But even without a baby, the hormones and the morphine (oh, the joyous morphine!) combine to make you feel immensely, overwhelmingly happy. And when BB was wheeled into my room in her funny little incubator bed, swaddled like a tiny fajita, there are really no words.

Her tiny size, her snuffly, snuggly, warm little body as she nestled into my neck...well she melted my heart. And I KNOW it's a reflex when they grab your finger, but it still feels like a monumental achievement when they do it.

Despite the pain and the gore, the 5 days I spent in hospital were pure bliss. A tiny baby bubble with nurses on hand to help with everything (I simply pressed a button if I needed them), a la carte meals brought to me every few hours, a comfy bed that moved up and down at the touch of a button.

Lying in the dark of the hospital room at 5 am, with DH sleeping on the sofa bed, DD snoozing on my chest, little legs twitching just as they had done inside of me, will remain one of the most overwhelming experiences of my life. 

You're suddenly a family, your baby is perfect, you're not pregnant any more. You're also coursing with adrenaline and hormones so the exhaustion is somehow bearable. These chemicals will cary you through the first through weeks in a haze...enjoy them.

Annoying things people say when you've had a baby: "Trust Your Instincts"

God knows I'm trying!

I found this advice extremely frustrating. As an only child who grew up without being surrounding by children, and as an adult that had held only a very small handful of babies, I honestly didn't have a clue where to start.

I remember being rolled into NICU in a wheelchair to see Baby Britney (BB) for the second time, with me looking like Princess Margaret after the 'bath incident' only sadly, without having consumed any gin.

They passed BB to me to feed and I managed to a) let her head snap back (so terrifying, those wobbly heads) and b) choke her on the bottle teat simultaneously. I squeaked feebly: "I've never fed a baby before!" and dissolved into tears.

"You'll just know what to do!" well meaning people had said to me. "Nature is amazing!"

Well, nature is a wonderful thing. I was filled with a fierce instinct to protect her and care for her, no doubt. But when she was screaming endlessly in the middle of the night, no instinct told me how to soothe her. When she was awake hour after hour after hour, no instinct came to my rescue with a magic sleep solution. In those circumstances you can just cuddle and whisper and kiss and ssshh and pat...and download as much tv as you can onto your iPad.

Maybe if you're an earth mother type something does 'click' and you feel like you've been doing it all your life - I am not one of those women. And if you talk, really talk, to other mothers, many of them will confess that they're not either.

This blogger writes beautifully about what it's like becoming a parent and instincts when she says:

"Dr Spock told a generation of women that they didn't need to learn how to look after their babies, that it was instinctive and that they knew more than they thought they did. He was completely wrong. When you have no proper experience of babies, as most of us don't, and one arrives in your house, it is like suddenly being asked to re-sit your final school exams. In Russian."

As a good friend said to me: "You WILL be okay, it IS tough, it IS hard, every hour is an amazing achievement, there is NO induction manual, you have had NO training, you are doing the very BEST that YOU can possibly do... You are being a mother for the very first time - and that is true every single day."

Cling to friends like these, the ones who tell it like it is, who are honest. Whose instincts didn't suddenly take over and save the day.

They will save your sanity.

Annoying things people say when you've had a baby: 'It gets easier'

Any minute now, it will get easier...or not.

I almost feel bad listing this one. People are really trying to help when they say this. To make you feel like there's light at the end of the tunnel.

The problem with it is that for some people, it does get easier, but really, really, slowly.

The first milestone I was told about is 12 weeks. Apparently at this stage something magical happens to the little blighters. They've been through some major growth spurts, and for whatever reason, they start to settle better and magically they SLEEP.

Oh really?

I approached the day after Baby Britney's 12 week birthday with cautious optimism. Like Dubai's bid for Expo2020 I was confident, I was positive. Things would be DIFFERENT! She would EAT! She would SLEEP! She would NAP! She would stop screaming all the time! I would be able to get dressed before 6 pm!

Nothing changed.

If anything, I found it got harder rather than easier. At the outset you have so much adrenalin coursing through you that you seem to have more strength (mental and physical) than you thought you would. I also expected it to be tiring at the newborn phase. But by 7 or 8 weeks, you are ground down. 2 hours sleep a night has taken its toll and you feel like death. When you reach 15 weeks and it's still no better not only do you feel like death, but you feel cheated, and a little like a failure. Perhaps it's something that you are doing wrong, otherwise surely the tiny tyrant would be sleeping by now?

The fact is, if you have a baby that sleeps (like winning the lottery, in fact, I would prefer it to winning the lottery) I am sure it does get easier, much more quickly. If you don't, well, there's no easy way to say this: it is going to be very tough for a very long time.

Take any help you can get. If a friend offers to walk the baby round the block, say yes. If a neighbour offers to hold the baby whilst you have a shower, say yes. Hell, if Mussolini had offered, I would have said yes. 

We are now at 19 weeks and baby Britney (BB) has JUST started doing some daytime sleeping. We're now up to 45 minutes, twice a day! This is a far cry from what other mums/books/experts will tell you - they should be cracking out two hour stretches at least, apparently.

But hey, I'm grateful for small mercies....

New Habits: Troughing

Me, at pretty much any time of day.

I never really had a sweet tooth. Sure, I'd scoff Creme Eggs at Easter and I do love anything from the lovely Mr Kipling. But I'm a cheese or crisps kinda gal at heart. Add in the fact that I do like to eat as healthily as possible, and I'm just not a big indulger in all things sweet as they tend to gravitate to my middle and thighs.

That all changed when I became Up The Duff (UTD). I fought it, I really did. But I've found myself leaning towards sugary treats like Kim Kardashian after a hunger strike. 

Things I find myself eating most on a regular basis that I SWEAR never normally touch my lips:

• Pain au Chocolat
• Cinammon Whirls
• Creme Eggs (to be fair, a usual occurrence, especially round Easter)
• Ice-cream (nightly)

The Husband watches with a wry smile as I scoff the above items - he isn't used to seeing me with my snout in the fridge quite so much, and certainly not emerging with anything unhealthy.

I reasoned with myself: on a normal evening I might have a couple of glasses of wine, on a night out, a bottle. Which meant I had HUNDREDS of spare calories to consume, non? And I kept repeating the mantra: pregnant women only need and extra 2-300 calories a day, so I did exercise some restraint. And at 24 weeks, with no one any the wiser that I was pregnant, it seemed to work...but a lot can happen in the final few months. As I hurtle towards 33 weeks, watch this space.

Where's the Bump

I couldn't let this be me...

It took me a while to start getting fat. I was still scampering around in a bikini at 22 weeks with no one anyone the wiser and zero bump. At this point I'd put on about 4 pounds. That said, my trousers did start to feel tight. And believe me, there is nothing worse than rushing to get to work and then realising in the melee that your trousers don't zip up and you have naff all to wear.

My tip to avoid this? As soon as you realise a garment is too small, put it away. Don't cling onto it in the hope that somehow you'll squeeze it back on. You may well be able to get the zip up, but as soon as you move you'll feel like you're being cut in half by a cheese wire.

In my case I had a storage box in a bedroom wardrobe where I sadly bid adieu to my loved and much enjoyed pre-fatso clothes. 

The way I looked at it, it's something to look forward to when the sprog pops out and you snap back into shape immediately, yeah? (snorts derisively.)

I fought the urge to burst into tears as my favourite Whistles skinny jeans went into the box. Along with the pencil skirts and much, much more.

So long, dear friends. See you in 2014.

Pitter Patter in Le Famille Britney

The times, they are a'changing. 

I'm getting fat for the second time in my entire adult life. 

(The first time was a few years into Dubai when I put on about 10 pounds. I was miserable for 6 months until I stopped eating like a pig. Then I returned to my happy, svelter self.)

Why, you say? Yes, you guessed, I'm up the duff! 

What, you hadn't guessed? Well luckily I haven't turned into Kim Kardashian (yet). Although there is plenty of time for that. And, if you live overseas, you haven't had a chance to see me from the waist down (god bless Skype).

You may have gathered from the low key Las Vegas wedding that I'm not a pomp and ceremony kinda gal. So don't expect this to turn into some glowing, slushy, Earth-Mother baby blog. But I will share some observations and tips (bear in mind I am far from your traditional fawning pregnant woman) which may or may not entertain you. 

Answers to anticipated questions:

• No, we don't know if it's a boy or a girl
• Yes, I was sick as a dog at the start (never actually threw up)
• Yes, I have felt the baby kicking
• Yes, this heat is killing me
• No, I haven't had any strange cravings
• Yes, the husband is the giddiest goat on the block (as am I)
• Yes, I am having the baby in Dubai
• No, this doesn't mean it is a UAE citizen
• No, we haven't decorated a nursery

Oh, and all things being equal, baby Britney will be rocking our world by the end of October.

Watch this space.

Welcome to the World, Samara!

Some good friends here have just had a baby, Samara. She’s been eagerly awaited as her parents are not only good friends but both absolutely gorgeous and we just couldn’t wait to see what she looked like. Her mum is Egyptian/German, with gorgeous cocoa skin and curly hair. Her dad is a Kiwi, all blond hair and blue eyes. Thankfully she didn’t fall foul of the rule that sometimes good-looking parents produce ugly kids (hello Jolie-Pitt kids, hello Princess-unpronounceable, child of Peter and Katie) and she is utterly divine.

We were invited round to meet her last night – as a 6 pound baby she is teeny-tiny so I didn’t feel brave enough to hold her, but it was great to catch-up with her new (exhausted) parents. And it wasn’t just a catch-up, we were greeted with delicious Egyptian food (loving sharing cultures!) and once everyone had arrived, a suboa took place.

This is an ancient ritual dating back to the time of Pharoahs, according to the Egyptians present. It consists of placing the baby on a cushion in the middle of the room, shaking her gently, and banging a cymbal next to her ear, whilst telling her how she must behave as she grows up. The mum then steps back and forth over the baby seven times, and then we all formed a circle and danced and clapped our way round her. All the while Egyptian music is playing in the background.

It was BRILLIANT and beats a boring, staid British christening hands-down. In typical Brit fashion I was concerned about a) stepping on the baby and b) the baby going deaf with all the shouting, but once I’d got over that it was all systems go.

Thanks so much for inviting us to be apart of it. Samara, just as soon as you’re old enough for me to be able to hold you without fear of breaking you, I’ll be back for a proper cuddle. Welcome to the world!

Girl's World

I’m a big believer in random acts of kindness and what you think about you bring about. Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean that I skip about the streets grinning inanely at people like a window-licker, more that I try to treat people how I’d like to be treated. Nicely.


So when I saw a plea on an online forum from a woman who desperately needed a babysitter, I decided to take the bull by the horns and do something nice. And how well it turned out. The woman in question literally lives a 4 minute walk from my front door, and is a top, top girl. One of us and would be a great addition to the team.

Her little girl is a complete dream (little girls rock) and after a mini introduction over wine (my kind of woman) I spent an evening with her daughter last Thursday. Those who know me know that the urge to reproduce has in no way made its way into my psyche, but that doesn’t mean that we didn’t have an extremely entertaining evening.

After watching a Christmas movie which featured talking dogs (always a winner) we moved onto plasticine modelling (I had to make things on demand, including: a mouse, a sofa, a flip flop and a house) and possibly my least favourite part: I was a hairdresser’s model. Bizarrely this took me right back to being a small child myself as this was one of my favourite games to play with my grandma when she baby sat me. Along with liberal application of make up – poor woman. She used to leave our house looking like an extra from an episode of Dynasty.

It was all worth it when at the end, Molly turned to me and said: “You’ve got such beautiful eyes. And you’re so pretty.” At this point I was crazed with tiredness and looked far from either beautiful, or pretty, but it was very sweet of her to say so. Next time we may leave the house, if only so that I can escape the hair brushes and accessories!

Babies....

One highlight of my flying visit home was getting to meet the newest addition to the Sumner family: a young man called Fox. He’s not a brand new baby any more but he’s still utterly adorable. Everything a baby should be: chubby, cuddly, and unbelievably chirpy and happy. He spent most of his time giggling and grinning at me and was very entertaining.

As most people who know me will testify, I tend to handle babies like bombs, but I wanted to give him a cuddle and allow his mum to quaff her champagne and scoff her club sandwich. So I gamely scooped him and rested him on my hip. Let me tell you: babies are heavy! We had a bit of a walk round and then peered at ourselves in the mirror for a while (Fox wanted to, honest). I waited for any sort of maternal twinge to hit me, but I can honestly report: nothing. He is utterly divine but I still have zero interest in one of my own.

If you believe the dross that the Daily Mail comes out with then I am going to a) live to regret this, bitterly, or b) be hit in the face by my biological clock and spend the rest of my days trying to get up the spout. I’ll keep you posted, but I’m not holding my breath on either of those points….

Women: The Short Straw

Congratulations to my gorgeous friend Emma, who has pushed the equivalent of a 9 pound 9 ounce bowling ball through the eye of a needle.....no mean feat. Bird, I'm completely in awe of you, and in a macabre way am looking forward to all the gory details.

This is when living abroad sucks. Yes, I may handle babies with all the finesse of a bomb disposal expert, but I'd still love to be able to give Fox a big cuddle. In my opinion, children are best when they're freshly baked babies, small and cute like snuffly puppies. And they can't move about so much! Emma, James and Rock: such fabulous news. Can't wait to meet your new arrival. And in the meantime, do the necessary with FB photos. Big love going out to you.