Yesterday I was contemplating that life seems to be getting more difficult with the triplets. It’s like the first five weeks, we were pretty well cruising. Challenging yes, but manageable, and maybe not quite as difficult as I had imagined. (I had imagined some pretty horrifying scenario’s.)
But once that 5/6 week mark hit. Yep. That’s more like what I was expecting…
This is when the reflux started and the snotty nosed little cherubs and their siblings started getting a bit more demanding. Not to mention the triplets decided to sleep less.
It seemed very wrong. I had been hoping that they would get better as they got older. Nope. They went from feeding 4 and even 5 hourly overnight to 2 or 3 hourly.
Me: Bleary Eyes and Foggy Brain. Tired. Yawn.
Then they decided to feed 2 or 3 hourly during the day as well. Talk about insane. I felt like I’m a mere milk machine. (But Yay me for managing to be a milk machine. In actual fact, there’s nothing ‘mere’ about exclusively breastfeeding 3 babies – an accomplishment worth celebrating!) There was absolutely no time for anything else in life. Everything is devoted to keeping these little ones alive and well.
We are working on returning to a four hour schedule. It’s much more civilised.
Yesterday I was feeding (you know, because that’s what I do) and contemplating the overwhelming feelings of overwhelment (That’s what life with triplets does to you. It makes you feel so overwhelmed at times that you have to make up new words.)
Missy was in her swing and started protesting. She does that often, so I ignored her. She increased her volume to make her point clear. She does that often. So I ignored her. She got hysterical. She does that often. I don’t like it. It’s awful. But Chook was really close to finishing, and if I took him off, he could quickly start vocalising his displeasure. So I ignored her. Chook needed to burp. Missy was in an hysterical rage. She does that often. I ignored her. I thumped Chook on his back as quickly as possible, then no longer ignored little Missy who by this stage was in major meltdown. I quickly picked her up in a clumsy one handed maneouver that I’m still perfecting. I replaced Chook where she had been sitting with the other hand.
I felt something very squishy and wet on my arm.
|This is when you know you are addicted to blogging. You are covered in poo, yet stop for a photo op.|
There was a very real reason for her cries, as it turned out. And as for my ignoring her. Revenge was sweet.
Chook decided to stage a violent protest over being so coldly rejected. (Turns out he had good reason also, I had dumped him in poo when I had changed seats.)
Two screaming babies and not enough hands! On the way to the laundry, I took a precarious one handed photo, then grabbed the phone for an emergency call to my sister for urgent help. In the laundry I was wildly grabbing whatever I could see to wipe body parts and stripping my darling off and giving her an impromptu bath in the basin.
|My saviour – as in the mortal kind.|
My sister’s nanny soon arrived and helped restore order. It turned out she needed to rescue me again in the afternoon. I attempted a feeding session alone, when all of a sudden all three woke and started a mass protest. I was leaving messages on answering services with three angry, angry babies in the background voicing their opinion about my failings as a mother and the injustice of being a triplet.
So, have you had some atrocious poo moments with a newborn?