Our first night home was a baptism of fire - I went home not really able to feed poor Gussy, and my poor boy was hungry and upset the whole night, and his parents were confused and distressed for him. I don't think I've ever felt so hopeless as I did the following morning when I was unable to give any food to my poor babe. I was reduced to a puffy-eyed sobbing mess. Fortunately I had wonderful help from my mother-in-law, and then the child and maternal health nurse, who sorted us out in a matter of minutes. I was a completely different person by the very same afternoon.
Since then things have been on the up and up, and the rest of this week has been lovely. Gifts and cards in the mail, bleary sleepy nights, friends and family bringing food, a room full of flowers, tiny clothes hanging on the line, marathon feeding sessions, sweet kisses and cuddles, the sound of his little squeaks and cooing from his cradle, getting the hang of nappy changes - all in sunny spring weather. He's a contented little guy, and we love caring for him.
On hearing of our rather traumatic start, friends and family have been sharing their experiences of their first week - the good and the bad. Aunts whose children are now grown-up can recall with full clarity what it was like for them, as have friends with babies who have messaged me with words of understanding and encouragement. It made me feel a lot better that I wasn't alone.
For all the mumma bears reading - what was your first week like? I'd love to hear.
Tomorrow is my first day without Tim here to help me (damn teachers and their rubbish paternal leave policy). I'm feeling a little cautious, but looking forward to it at the same time (I can photograph Gus endlessly, hurrah!).