Introducing Imogen

I thought for today's blog I would tell you a little about my daughter, Imogen, as nothing exciting has happened today really - apart from the Gas man popping into service the boiler, he then informed me I need a new one, so that's been added to my ever expanding list of "things to buy when I return to work and actually start getting a wage instead of attempting to live off SMP" - along with work clothes, shoes, new blinds for the house, a garden wall, new car, holiday, cooker etc etc etc

 I talk a lot about Blaine and all his antics, but not so much about Imogen (I also refer to her as Immie) so tonight we will begin. 

Immie is 5 months old (nearly 6 months really) and is, erm, what you might want to call a bit of a drama queen.  No idea where she gets that from. At the moment she is the main reason why I'm currently living off the smallest amount of sleep know to man and loads of caffeine.  It keeps me sane.  And awake. 

Imogen was born after a rather amazing birth - I could bore you with all the details of the birth, but here's the short version.  Contractions kinda started 3am, kicked in couple of hours later, phoned hospital at 6am and told to get in asap.  Phoned Tom to come home and strap my TENS machine to my back.  Went into hospital, miserable old bag of a receptionist ignored me while I contracted every 2 mins at her desk - she was obviously far to busy doing fuck all to deal with another woman in labour.  After getting booked in I hobble to my room and am introduced to a surgical student who needs to witness a live birth.  Lucky man - getting to spend the morning looking at my chuff.  Bet he's delighted.  By this time it's about 8:30am I think - time kinda goes out the window when you're in agony. Pain relief is discussed - I demand everything, but according to my stupid birth-plan I want a drug free birth.  Who the fuck wrote that?! Oh yes, me.  Turns out I'm too far dilated for any drugs anyway - so it's TENS and a bit of gas and air - no water birth allowed either.  GAH!  At one point Tom looked like he was going to collapse in a heap on the floor - great, just what I fucking need during labour, my husband to crash out and get more medical attention than me!  Luckily he didn't or he would have had his balls to play with.

After a few hours and 20 mins of pushing Imogen popped out with a kinda "THUD" sound.  "OOOOHHH" said Tom "Shes huge - about 8lb i think"  To which my midwife replies "HA! She'd not 8lb, she's bigger than that!" Turns outs she'd 9lb 2oz.  A  heifer.  Massive.  Apparently it was all the cake I ate during pregnancy.  How I got her out nobody knows.  Well I do as I felt every bloody second of it.  The student is in a state of shock I think and is just staring at disbelief.  Typical man.

6 hours after giving birth I go home - no messing about here, home to get on Facebook erm...I mean, home to see Blaine and my mum.......

So life with Imogen began.  And it hasn't been the same since.  Colic was the first drama that left me with sleepless nights. The constant crying was tiring, a sling was a life saver - she would doze off in that while I wandered aimlessly about.  I breastfeed Immie, something that I'm actually quite proud of. I have had many meltdowns over this - many due to lack of alcohol as Immie refused to take a bottle, but we got over that and now she'll suck on anything really. Then, at about 4 months, we got over the colic drama.  But still she didn't sleep.

My sleepless nights are well known at the school gates - I drop Blaine off in the mornings looking like a half shut knife, with a crazed almost manic look in my eyes, muttering a few words to the other parents about Imogen "oh yes, a better night last night - only up about 6 times" or something ridiculous.  Sometimes I go there with a look of glee and proudly announce "She was only up twice!" and all the other mums cheer and make a lot of enthusiastic sounds to keep me amused.  I go along to mum and baby groups with Immie, to meet other mums who are just like me. But, really, they are not. They are all looking amazing and swapping stories about how "X slept for 12 hours last night - I had to wake him for his brekkie!" "OOOOH isn't that fab, Y has slept through since 1 day old, it's amazing, I couldn't cope without my sleep"  Then someone will ask about Imogen - how long does she sleep for at night? Without erupting into manic laughter I normally manage to say "oh sleep?  Hmmm.... well, she goes to bed at 7pm every night, then gets up anything between 2 and 20 times really"  Jaws drop. "Seriously?" is the normal response. Yes.  Seriously.  I also take Imogen to Baby Yoga and Baby Sensory - both designed to chill out the baby.  HA HA HA! Not for Imogen, nah, she'd much rather screech all the way through or demand to be fed.

She might not sleep, she might be a total grumpy bum, she's currently teething and is chewing everything and anything, drooling like a crazed animal. But, she's my grumpy bum.  She takes after her dad that's for sure - always moaning about something and nothing.  Never happy unless she has a boob in her mouth. Sigh. I have decided that she is obviously a genius.  Apparently genius babies do not sleep, they are far too intelligent for sleep - they don't need sleep, they are too intelligent for sleep.  Oh yes, I have, in fact, created a genius.

So, that's my Imogen.  My wee non-sleeping, grump of a baby girl, but I wouldn't change her for the world. But if she would give me a nice block of 7 hours kip in one night then it would be appreciated.....