…I think this old adage applies to accidentally defrosted milk as well.
Today the hospital freezer broke and litres of the bloody stuff was wasted. How gutting. It would be useless to calculate the amount of hours wasted on the evil pump. It wasn’t all of it at least, just the ones on top but I was literally speechless (not a common occurrence) and when I did start to speak after Gerard had broken the news to me over lunch it was mainly swear words. Luckily they told Gerard on his shift rather than me (a tactical move?) so I had time to compose myself and not curse any innocent hospital staff to their faces. It will take the NHS bureaucracy three months to buy another one so we are buying a spare freezer for home instead.
I have to remember that the point of the pumping is partly to sustain my supply till the twins can breastfeed and till they come home and not just to build up litres in reserve. If I can keep getting up in the night I have plenty and it is definitely sending my body the message to keep making more. I am shattered though and this seemed like a cruel joke.
As the in laws are still down we had a pretty relaxed Lucas centred day playing by the river with a pub lunch (all in Isleworth to stay close to the hospital) as Gerard and played hospital tag to see Beatrix and Alexander. It’s too busy there at the weekends and our nursery ward seems full of people with proper problems (drunk wayward abusive partners who aren’t allowed to see the new babies, couples who probably aren’t abusing each other but are suspected of being), and the talk over visiting hours is of a different nature to the weekdays. I seemed to spend forever on my feet changing nappies and cleaning faces when I was there. A taste of things to come. G’s parents saw their new grandchildren for the first time today. It’s hard for people to get comfortable with the incubators I think and I am trying not to be super controlling in the way I tell visitors how they like to be touched without too much stress, that yawning and waving their hands and legs about means they are freaking out and not just cute ways of saying hello. Alexander was doing some very alarming heart stuff today while I held him, desaturating all over the place into the 50s and 60s when it should be in the 90s. Going pale and floppy with his heart rate down to 56bpm from 170 odd in a matter of seconds. Not very relaxing. At least the nurse was there. I tried not to panic.
I forgot how the early days of having a baby are so coloured by lack of sleep. This is nothing compared to what’s to come but getting up every night is having an effect on my mood. My blog is literally the only time I sit down. Tonight I am trying to be kind to myself and not cook. It’ll be Thai chicken and rice that my neighbour made with an option on lasagne delivered to my door on Friday by the awesome Ashley. We are very lucky. At least I will have freezer space soon.
Back into the rhythm tomorrow. The in laws will stay to look after Lucas as I go to the hospital and in the evening the Olympic weightlifting and I still have to figure out what childcare arrangements to make for the second week of August when the childminder goes away. Will cobble a week together and then G’s parents will come for the second week. Let’s hope the babies don’t get let out early (did I really say that?) or it’ll be chaos. Unlikely anyway. Ok better go back downstairs and stop pretending I am on extended pump break. A toddler to wrangle into the bath.