I’ve done a fair few incredible things in my life – I’ve trekked to Kala Pattar, just above Base Camp Everest, been scuba diving with hammerheads and snorkelling with whale sharks, sailed around the Galapagos and written the first draft of a novel – but quite possibly nothing so exhilarating, exhausting and emotional as being a new mummy.
Just as with all of my most memorable travel adventures, I have had outstanding material to work with. Orla is extraordinary and I have watched her sleeping with as much wonder as I watched the light change the marble a myriad of colours on the Taj Mahal, listened to her coo and gurgle with more excitement and delight than the howler monkeys’ dawn chorus in the Guatemalan jungle. Her demands and needs can be just as challenging as a trek to Everest, but the smile she gives me each morning when she wakes up is even more rewarding.
We made a decision before she was born – not to buy any of the ‘How to…’ books by so-called experts. They work very well for many people, but I have never liked being told what to do or how to do it! We decided to trust our instincts, to listen to what Orla tells us and if something isn’t working, to try something else. The only times I have felt out of my depth, or that I am doing something wrong, have been when I have succumbed to temptation and peeked at what those experts have to say. I’ve tried a few of their techniques and found that they didn’t work as well as the ones Giles and I have worked out for ourselves; I haven’t read anywhere that putting your baby on an exercise ball and rolling her back and forth is a great soother for colic!
So far, the ‘Ginnie and Giles Guide to Bringing Up Orla’ has been working well for all three of us. I hate the term ‘co-sleeping’, but I adore the practise of it! I can honestly say that I think it’s the most important, and one of the most successful decisions we made. Giles was initially far keener than I was; I was afraid that, for the first few weeks, Orla would simply be too small. However, when Giles said a reluctant goodbye and had to leave us alone in the maternity ward that first night, I fed Orla and put her down in her clinical Perspex cot – and she began to cry. Anxious about her waking the other, exhausted new mothers – and desperate to hold her again – I picked her up, and slept with her cradled safely in my arms, my elbow supported by a pillow. Waking the next morning with my tiny, new treasure nuzzling at my breast was maybe the most moving moment of my life.
We continued as we began. Orla has spent every night of her life in our bed, and none of us have had a sleepless night yet. It’s almost sad that I am so accustomed to her little body, curled into mine as she feeds herself back to sleep, that I seldom gaze at her with the same wonder before I fall asleep. But in place of that is the warm and comfortable familiarity of her stirring as I get quietly into bed, reaching out her little hands and opening her mouth like a hungry hatchling, ready for a sleepy feed that will take her through until morning. Giles and I rise, go through the morning ritual of tea, preparing breakfast and seeing him off to work before she wakes and I go back to greet her and am blessed again by the light of her smile.
There are plenty of people who seem to think that we’re ‘making a rod for our own backs’ by not leaving her to sleep in a cot of her own. I think there’s plenty of time for that. I have a shadowy idea of how the transition may occur, a good many months into the future, and if it doesn’t work out that way, we’ll find another – hopefully one that, again, works for all of us. Until then, I’ll relish the closeness of my arms encircling my sleeping baby and the soft, regular sigh of her breathing next to me.
We ‘flout the rules’ in other ways and seem to be getting away these transgressions, too. I worried for a couple of days that we didn’t have a set ‘routine’, complete with scheduled feeds, naps, playtimes, bathtimes and bedtimes… until I realised that Orla is perfectly capable of letting me know what her natural routine is. It’s evolved of its own accord, without any interference from me, and is surprisingly flexible. We still visit friends in the evenings, go out for meals, go travelling… Orla will sleep anywhere, if she feels like it! Things take a little more planning or need to be adapted slightly, but Orla has proved to be a most compliant traveller. At twelve weeks, she had racked up three flights between London and Istanbul, a return journey from London to Newcastle (incorporating a full house clearance) in a transit van and a long-distance trip to the Phrygian Valley in Turkey. This summer, she’ll be touring Spain, Eastern Turkey and the UK before we fly to our new home in Penang, Malaysia. Giles and I don’t subscribe to the school of thought that states that we have to give up doing the things we love now that we have a baby; neither do we believe that we can carry on merrily as before, leaving Orla with a nanny while we try to prove to ourselves that ‘Having a baby hasn’t changed us!’. We want Orla to enhance our lives, and that means a balance between including her in as much of what we do as possible and ensuring that we’re fulfilling all of her needs, too. I may have travelled to a fair number of countries so far, but I’m so excited by the prospect of rediscovering the world through her eyes in years to come.
Sometimes Giles and I have forgotten to talk to one another, and those have been the times that have been most challenging. We’re making an extra effort to let each other in on our thoughts, triumphs and anxieties; we discuss our days, try to remember to do little things for one another that mean a lot and share the responsibilities and pleasures of raising our little girl. Because Giles works all day, he was concerned that his bond with Orla may not be as strong as the one that she and I share. I was missing having quiet time to write each day, so we agreed on some time each evening, dedicated to what each of us felt we needed most. Now Giles leaves his work until Orla has gone to bed and spends a couple of hours playing with his daughter; judging by the gurgles and chortles and other sounds of riotous play that drift into the room where I’m working, he has little to fear about the strength of their bond. I have space and time to write, or to focus on jobs that are awkward to do with a baby in my arms. We try to make sure that there’s time for us, too – not as much as before, inevitably, but we still share the laughter, love and affection that made us want to bring up Orla together in the first place.
We’re not doing everything according to the books, but we’re acting on a blend of our instinct, intuition and old-fashioned common sense. We’re blessed with an easygoing and accommodating child, but perhaps somehow, on some level, we’re getting a few things right, too.
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