I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but suddenly the Imp turned a year old on Saturday. How has it been a year already? It’s been a wonderful year, with little sleep, but a lot of love.

The Imp was born at 37+1 after an induction, following doctor’s recommendations due to growth restriction. She just wasn’t growing as she was meant to, and after a few weeks of regular check-ups (towards the end I was going every other day to check her heartbeat/that she wasn’t in distress), it was simply time to get her out. I went in on Thursday around noon for an induction, and the Imp was born on the Friday at 22.57.

I remember going into labour with practically no sleep due to the contractions starting Thursday evening, but managed a little nap in my room in the labour ward after being given my first bout of painkillers. Which was lovely. Less lovely when it wore off. I tried gas and air, some people swear by it – but I’ll be honest, it did nothing for me. I could as well have been breathing in regular air for all it did.

Having a low pain threshold and just not being a brave person (I’ve always feared the idea of giving birth, for as long as I can remember), and the fact that induction contractions are really bloody painful – I ended up having an epidural. Say what you want, but I don’t think I’d have managed without it. The drip to induce labour was bringing the contractions on quite strongly. There was quite a bit of fiddling up and down with it as well, because baby would become distressed if they put it too high, and if they lowered it nothing happened.

Eventually they seemed to find the magic formula though, and I was allowed to start pushing. It took awhile, and towards the end it seemed that she got stuck, and I just couldn’t quite get that last stretch over the finish line. I ended up with an episiotomy, and out she came! She was a tiny little thing at 44 cm and 2060 grams (just below 4 lbs 8 oz). We stayed in the hospital for a week since she was too little to breastfeed properly, so she had to be tube fed. We kept practicing though, and we finally cracked the code, and she became quite adept at it!

I look back on that first week now a year later, and I’m so glad it’s behind me. I hated being in the hospital. After about three days I was starting to go stir crazy. It felt like the whole day was a never ending circle of expressing, sterilising, and feeding. I’m so glad that the breastfeeding eventually worked.

Now, as a one year old the Imp is still relatively small. She’s wearing 4-6 months clothing (but I have high hopes that she’s about to grow into the 6-9 months clothing soon), but other than being small seems to hit most goals. We’re not quite there yet, but she’s started walking a few steps. At most she’s walked a few metres across a room, which is quite well done after all. She has four teeth, with another four on the way (at the same time!). Her talking is possibly a little bit behind, but I’m told it’s quite normal for bi-lingual children, so I won’t worry about that (yet).

Not impressed by mummy’s photo props.

4 Comments on One Year

  1. She is so stinkin cute! The problem with teeth is they always come in bunches and don’t seem to stop coming for a long stretch of time. We finally got a break with my son’s teething just to have his two-year molars start to come in.

    Grats on the happy healthy baby girl!

    • Teething never truly seems to end, does it? They seem to suffer for weeks sometimes before you can even see them breaking through. Oh, the two-years molars… I’ve heard it can be quite difficult for the little ones. Hope your son is doing okay!

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