Silent reflux – what helped us

Silent reflux is a bastard.  It’s tricky to diagnose and exhausting to manage. G Major had it, and I caught it, amazingly, in the first two weeks. But only because both my mother and I had had reflux, and I was on the lookout for issues, and because a friend’s baby had suffered with diagnosed silent reflux, and I was familiar with the signs.

Compared to ‘normal’ reflux, the lack of exorcist puking makes silent reflux difficult to diagnose. Symptoms of silent reflux typically include: crying after feeding; arching their back; persistent hiccuping and coughing; extended suckling and excessive feeding to sooth the burning. You may also see milk being regurgitated into the mouth.

Because your baby keeps feeds down, as opposed to projectile vomiting them across the room, it’s likely the’re gaining weight well. You don’t have that permanent sour milk vom smell attached to you and it’s safe to venture out of the house without a whole separate bag of muslins. So people, and your GP, might be unsympathetic. They won’t understand that you and your partner literally, genuinely, hold your baby 24/7.

I actually cried when G Minor fell asleep flat in her basket seconds after taking a massive feed. I had no idea it could work like that.

The good news is, silent reflux doesn’t last forever. In the meantime, here’s some advice from the front lines.

Here’s what might help:

  • See your GP as soon as you can. And keep going back. Not all GPs are familiar with reflux, and certainly not silent reflux. It will be harder to get a diagnosis when they’re not a puker. Persist until you get help. Then keep going back to get your meds adjusted as baby grows.
  • Keep a diary. Then you can show the doctor how often you’re feeding, how much (if you’re bottle feeding) and how long they hollered for after a feed.
  • Film your baby. I took videos of G Major’s bawling mouth and you can actually see the milk rise to the back of her throat and then drain away again. I showed this to the GP when they were umming and aahing about what it was.
  • Drugs! You’ll probably initially be prescribed Gaviscon, which neutralises the stomach acid and forms a little blanket on to of the feed to help keep it down. You may then move on to ranitidine, which reduces the amount of stomach acid being produced. Beyond this, your GP can prescribe something like omeprazole, a proton pump inhibitor, which again inhibits the production of stomach acid. Make sure you give meds regularly – don’t just stop when you start to see an improvement.
  • Propping baby up to sleep. You can put books under one end of the cot or a wedge pillow under the mattress to elevate baby’s head. At one point G Minor was sleeping almost upright – we made a nest in the moses basket out of a wedge cushion and a V cushion and dropped her down the hole.

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    G Major sleeping at 90 degrees
  • Get a sling. You will die without one. Baby is upright but can sleep on your chest. Parents have their hands free to do stuff. Plus, lovely snuggly baby time and they’re not screaming. Seriously, get a sling
  • A dummy. This will create extra saliva to help sooth any burning in their throat
  • Sleep in shifts. I used to go to bed at 7.30pm, just after supper. Big G would hold G Major and watch Breaking Bad, give a bottle of expressed milk at the late feed then go to bed at midnight. Then I’d be on duty for the rest of the night. That way I’d get at least five hours unbroken sleep, and Big G would get six or seven (depending how late he slept). We barely saw each other in the week for a few months but I kept my sanity.
  • Ignore routines. If your baby has silent reflux, there’s no “putting them down sleepy after a feed” – they’ll scream the place down. Accept that you’ll be holding them in the dark for hours, charge up your kindle and phone, and settle in. You can still keep a bedtime routine of bath, feed, lullaby etc – G Major actually went to bed brilliantly after she grew out of the reflux.
  • Get the hell out of the house.  Baby will still cry after a feed but at least there are other people about. It’s miserable on your own. We went to at least one activity or group, sometimes two, every weekday.

Here’s what won’t:

  • Co-sleeping, in and of itself. Baby will still be lying flat. If you want to co-sleep, all power to you, but just bringing baby into bed with you will not make it any better for you or them.
  • Colief or Infacol. This isn’t gas. Or still-not-actually-defined colic. You need something to thicken the stomach contents and something to reduce the acid levels.
  • Switching to formula. Again, go for it if it works better for you. It will be easier to share the load with your partner. And formula is slightly thicker than breast milk. But it’s still going to come back up. Keep breastfeeding if you want to – it’s not your milk, it’s their digestive tract.
  • Eliminating dairy. Reflux is not CMPI; there is no evidence to suggest they’re linked. Baby will have issues with feeds whether or not you’re drinking soy or almond milk, and you’ll be sad because cheese. (Babies with CMPI might well be pukers, but it won’t be silent reflux.)
  • Cranial osteopathy. Reflux occurs because the muscular valve at the end of baby’s esophagus, which acts to keep food in the stomach, hasn’t developed properly yet. No amount of pissing about with their skull will make that develop faster. That’s like suggesting cracking your knuckles will fix your pelvic floor.

Remember, hang in there. For most babies, silent reflux disappears between 12 and 16 weeks, and keeps improving as they sit up and wean. And the one advantage of silent reflux over normal reflux is that you’ve not had to deal with months of puking, keeping your clothes and soft furnishings intact.

Have you had a baby with silent reflux? What did you find helped?

What to take when you visit a new mum

So your friend has had a baby. You’re heading over for newborn snuggles. You have the cutest baby-gro ever for the new arrival. But what do you take for mum?

Food! Food is the correct answer. But you need to take HELPFUL food. Whenever I see this discussed on parenting forums, people suggest cottage pie. Which is nice, except then your friend has a bloody great cottage pie taking up room in their fridge, which they have to eat for three days until they’re sick of it.

What your friend really wants is small portions of food they can freeze and then use to build bigger meals. Food that is simple to make, tastes nice and is nourishing.

Two dear friends have had babies this year. One is a first time mum, so it’s all new to her; the other has a two year old so needs to feed child 1 easily, as well as look after child 2. So I took a few portions of my easy microwave cheese sauce and a few portions of my hidden veg pasta sauce to them both.

The cheese sauce can be used for macaroni cheese (pour over cooked pasta, bake, serve with salad) or as a gratin sauce (pour over cooked cauliflower and broccoli, bake, serve alongside minute steak or sausages).  The pasta sauce can go straight over pasta, be added to mince to make a bolognese of sorts, or spread on pizza bases.

Here are some ideas for other meal bases you could take. Marinate or part cook at home, then freeze, ready for your poor, tired new mum friend to just defrost and go.

  • Marinated chicken thighs. Defrost, bake, serve with rice or potatoes and frozen veg. I love BBQ chicken thighs
  • A vegetable soup base of roasted veg, cream and stock. Defrost, heat, blend
  • Generic mince, onion and tomato mix. Defrost and eat as is over baked potatoes; add beans and spices to make this into chilli; or add carrot, celery, a bay leaf and seasoning to make bolognese
  • Pie filling of cooked chicken or beef, with appropriate cooked veg plus a gravy. Defrost, top with a puff pastry lid and serve. Here’s my lazy chicken  pie recipe
  • Asian-style marinated prawns, beef or chicken strips. Defrost and stir fry quickly with a mix of green Asian veg
  • Sausage roll filling. Defrost, roll in puff pastry, bake. Try my veggie version
  • Burgers. Defrost, fry, put in bun with cheese and salad. I like the bean burger recipe here
  • Meatballs, Defrost, bake, serve with mashed potatoes or with pasta and tomato sauce. Try a turkey version

And don’t forget, while you’re visiting, make your own tea, do the washing up and fold any clean laundry you see sitting about.

What did friends and family do to help you when you had a newborn?

An interview with Eliza Dorothy, aged 3 years and 365 days (it’s a leap year)

G  Major turns 4 tomorrow. So today, I asked her some questions.

How old are you? Three
How old am I? 40 (Humph)
How old is Daddy? 50 (Ha ha)
What’s your favourite food? Pasta
What’s your favourite colour? Yellow
If you were the king of the world, what would you tell everyone to do? Brush their hair!
What’s your favourite book? The Elephant and the Bad Baby. And the Cat in the Hat if Daddy reads (I don’t do Dr Seuss)
What’s your favourite TV show? Pingu. And Ben and Holly
What’s the best place to go on holiday? AUSTRALIA! (Good news for Mimi)
What are you very good at? Painting
What would you like to do for a job when you are older? Be a teacher (Nooooooo!)
What’s your favourite thing to do with Mummy? Play in the play kitchen
What’s your favourite thing to do with Daddy? Jump on the beanbags
What’s something you would like to learn to do? Look after little babies (Great, then I can go to the pub)
What does Mummy do for a job? Work on your computer
What does Daddy do for a job? He works on his computer too!
What’s your favourite animal? A pig!
What makes you happy? Jumping on the trampoline
What makes you sad? Getting hurt
If you had superpowers, what would they be? Elsa powers (Thanks Disney)
Who is your best friend? I love everybody. Even the boys! (Mad cackling)

Eliza at very nearly four, ladies and gentlemen.

 

 

No stars or angels here

“Mummy, why is Poppy still on the iPad?”

Oof, that’s a fun one for a Monday morning. G Major asked me this on the way to preschool this week, apropos of nothing.

She was asking why Dad’s picture is still visible when I log into my Skype account. And while I was organising my thoughts to explain about internet history and contact lists, she reminded me, “Because he’s dead.”

Erm, yes. Thank you, poppet.

Talking to kids about death is hard. The accepted advice is to be honest, to answer all their questions, to not use euphemisms that might confuse them. Saying the deceased has ‘gone to sleep’ pretty much guarantees your child will never go to bed nicely again.

So when Dad died, we explained that Poppy had a poorly heart and it stopped working. And that’s what happens when you get old. And that he had died, and that meant he wasn’t here anymore, and we couldn’t see him again. But we could remember him, and that was nice too.

So far so good.

But because I’m an atheist, I couldn’t share a message of going to be with God in heaven, or becoming an angel. And I certainly wasn’t going to say he became a star, because I ❤ science and that’s not how stars work.

But I also failed to account for the steely practicality of a small child. I’m glad I didn’t use metaphors, but I recognise there is something sweet about a small child sending a goodnight to her grandfather amongst the stars. Nothing quite prepares you for the cheerily matter-of-fact way a preschooler will tell you over breakfast,  “Poppy died. And he’s never coming back”. It’s actually quite funny, if it didn’t leave me completely floored.

G Minor never met my father – I was 8 weeks pregnant when he died. And G Major doesn’t really remember him, although she recognises him in photos. Because I’m in the UK and my family are in Australia, there are limited opportunities for grandparents to see the Gs. Familiarity is all – G Major remembers the fire alarm going off in our old flat, but not Dad’s holiday in that same flat when she was 18 months.

Memories laid down before about 3 and a half tend not to stick around into adulthood, unless there is major trauma, so all I can do now is show the Gs pictures and videos of him, and talk about him, and about what Poppy and G Major did together. I want to give them a sense of their grandfather even if they can’t remember him. Ideally, they’ll have something more to say than a perky, “He’s dead.”

Which is much more useful than pretending he’s a star. And it’s why Poppy can stay on the iPad for a bit longer yet.

Carry on for kids

Holidays! Sunshine, swimming pools,  cheap local beer, kids club every morning (very important).

But first, the flight. 4 hours, 4 people but only 3 seats. How do you keep kids entertained on the plane? Here are the toys and games I packed for the Gs.

I bought a stack of small, cheap new toys for the holiday. Hawkins Bazaar has a selection of “pocket money toys” and I started there. I added a few bits from Tiger and B&M Homestores. It’s not all the highest quality but if it gets lost or covered in sunscreen, it doesn’t matter. 

Here’s what I packed for G Major in her carry on bag:

  • Colouring book and pencils – colouring is a new obsession and  she’s surprisingly neat, although she uses a LOT of black
  • Wipe clean fairy faces book – helpfully reusable
  • Mini stamp set – ideally for paper but if it descends into tattooing, so be it
  • Tic tac toe game – the concept of placing the little wooden is a more concrete idea to grasp than drawing them on paper 
  • Ball and cup game – something physical but doesn’t require leaving her seat 
  • iPad and Headphones – because everyone loves a quiet child on a plane. She can m watch four hours straight of Angelina Ballerina for all I care.

And this was G Minor’s:

  • Ball
  • Tolo figurine. If you haven’t seen the Tolo toys, check them out. They’re a little bit bigger than Playmobil and Duplo, great for toddler hands, and all of the limbs, hair, hats etc move
  • Book – name the sea creatures before we get to the beach
  • Crayons – she’s loving mark making 
  • Pop up puppet – if G Minor isn’t interested I bet any kids in the seat behind me will be 
  • Wind up train

Not that it really matters what I put in G Minor’s bag – she!only wants whatever G Major has and perhaps Mummy’s empty gin mini. 

Plus snacks and sweets and G Minor’s dummy – usually for bed time only but again, quiet children = happy passengers so I don’t care. 

What will you be taking away with you this summer?

Parenting is about what you do, not what you are

My Facebook page has recently been flooded with posts about the #motherhoodchallenge. I though that this had died back in February but it’s back.

And it’s morphed.

Originally, participants were asked to post a  picture that made them “happy to be a mum”. So far, so Facebook. Pretty shit for anyone who doesn’t want or is not able to be a parent. Not remotely inclusive of fathers, or grandparents or aunts and uncles who parent as well. Hard work for anyone not enjoying parenthood.  And it’s not actually a challenge, is it, if you wanted to have kids and then you had kids and then you love those kids and then you posted a picture on Facebook of those kids? But fine. While it was mindless, it was probably no worse than endless pictures of their children anyway.

But now I’m seeing, “I’ve been challenged to post a picture that makes me proud to be a mum.”

What the hell does that mean?

Not “proud of my kids”. Not “proud of how I parent”. Certainly not “proud of me”. Just “proud to be a mum”.

Being a mother is not something to be intrinsically proud of. Sperm + egg = baby. It’s biology. You pushed a baby out your foof? Great. Animals do it all the time. You don’t need skills or talent. Sorry, love, but you’re one of millions.

Parenting is about what you DO, not what you ARE. It’s about the thought that goes into how you raise your child,  about the experiences you create with them, about the people you invite to share their life. It’s about the hundred good and bad things you do each day that impact on your kids. It’s not about procreation.

If you have children, there are lots of things that you could be proud of.

You can simply be proud of your kids. Because they did something exceptional, or displayed the qualities and values you appreciate.

You can be proud of the fact you and your partner supported and loved each other through the terrible journey of infertility until a pregnancy took.

You can be proud of the fact you took a decision to adopt or foster a child and give them a chance they might not have had otherwise.

You can be proud of the fact you have fought to keep your kids through a divorce, and that they still see you smile nicely at the other parent.

You can be proud of the strength you and your child demonstrate when they’re in hospital again.

You can be proud your child defends your gender identity and sexual preferences to the haterz and that they learnt that from you.

You can be proud of the fact you get up every day and feed and wash and play with your children through crushing depression, or that you fed your body and your baby despite the voices in your head telling you not to eat.

But don’t just be proud “to be a mum”. Because it devalues all the work you and millions of other parents do.

Posey, you are 1

Posey, you are…1 today.

You are…a good eater
The nursery staff tell me this every week, in a tone of slight awe. You eat everything. At speed. You like to do it yourself, which is why I try to avoid rice-based dishes. I have to hide in the kitchen when I’m making food, because if you see me, you’ll howl until you get some.

You are…a bit of a wag
You are not the clown your older sister is. It’s all about the slow chuckle with you, a joke or a game built over time. You don’t seek instant applause; instead I get a side eye and a grin. You’ll wait for me to get it.

You are…a flirt
The ladies on the tills in Tesco will never win your love, no matter how often they tickle your toes or compliment your crazy hair. You save all your dimples and gummy smiles for the butcher and the young guy behind the fish counter. I think you like his hat.

You are…observant
You watch. All the time. And copy, exactly. I shall have to stop swearing in front of you shortly, or else your first words will be unfit for publication.

You are…good at taking antibiotics.
You are the only child in the world who likes the banana-flavoured amoxicillin. You gobbled it down three times a day like a dream. You weirdo.

You are…mechanically minded
You figured out the post box game and the ball drop and the ball and hammer thingy very quickly. I must hide all my keys and babyproof every appliance.

You are…my last
And I do not want to lose this squishy little bear too soon.

You are….loved
Beyond your wildest comprehension, in different countries and across continents, forever and ever.

Happy birthday.