I think there are a couple of points about Friday’s post that I should perhaps clear up. Reading back through it I might have given the impression that the baby was finished with breast-feeding, and also been a bit glib about postnatal depression.
1. The baby is still breast-feeding as well as eating her pulped yams, to the extent that occasionally Lynne’s boobs actually run dry. This is because the baby is a giant butterball. Luckily her stomach is now robust enough to handle all the new substances and also formula milk, which caused so much trapped-wind drama in the past. Now that she is five months old, the baby farts like a motorbike.
Still, the baby is never happier than when she is dozing with her rosy, milk-fattened cheek resting against my wife’s breast. Weaning the baby isn’t something that is going to happen in a week, but we do have two more months before Lynne has to go back to work and the bulk of the childcare responsibilities fall on my narrow shoulders.
2. I have no idea how the postnatal depression score is worked out, and luckily I don’t have to know. The health visitor left scoring Lynne until now because she was identified as low risk. I mentioned that the average score is supposed to be about ‘11’, and while this could mean ‘feeling a bit sad and run down’ it could also mean ‘ready to kill my partner because he does fuck all round here except watch the fucking telly’.
This takes me back to my primary bit of advice to all new parents, which is that everything is much easier if you treat it as a two-man job. Fathers, take as much paternity leave as you can get and be involved as you can. And another thing that I might not have mentioned before. Make sure your good lady knows that you still fancy her. This is very important. Everyone around you will go on about how cute the baby is, and of course the baby is cute, but it could leave the tired mother feeling as if she has been relegated to the status of a dairy cow crossed with a toilet attendant. Depressing.
1. The baby is still breast-feeding as well as eating her pulped yams, to the extent that occasionally Lynne’s boobs actually run dry. This is because the baby is a giant butterball. Luckily her stomach is now robust enough to handle all the new substances and also formula milk, which caused so much trapped-wind drama in the past. Now that she is five months old, the baby farts like a motorbike.
Still, the baby is never happier than when she is dozing with her rosy, milk-fattened cheek resting against my wife’s breast. Weaning the baby isn’t something that is going to happen in a week, but we do have two more months before Lynne has to go back to work and the bulk of the childcare responsibilities fall on my narrow shoulders.
2. I have no idea how the postnatal depression score is worked out, and luckily I don’t have to know. The health visitor left scoring Lynne until now because she was identified as low risk. I mentioned that the average score is supposed to be about ‘11’, and while this could mean ‘feeling a bit sad and run down’ it could also mean ‘ready to kill my partner because he does fuck all round here except watch the fucking telly’.
This takes me back to my primary bit of advice to all new parents, which is that everything is much easier if you treat it as a two-man job. Fathers, take as much paternity leave as you can get and be involved as you can. And another thing that I might not have mentioned before. Make sure your good lady knows that you still fancy her. This is very important. Everyone around you will go on about how cute the baby is, and of course the baby is cute, but it could leave the tired mother feeling as if she has been relegated to the status of a dairy cow crossed with a toilet attendant. Depressing.
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