KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

We had grand plans to paint baby's nursery a cute colour or paint a feature wall like in our bedroom but we never got around to it. Instead, we went with quick and easy wall decals. Boyfriend Pham wanted an Australiana-themed nursery for Baby Pham because he'll grow up surrounded by Americanisms in pop culture. It took us about 8 months after Baby was born to decorate his room because we had other things to worry about. Namely, how the hell to parent so baby boy thrives.

Somewhat ironically, we got our Australian-themed wall decals from Spain. DecoDeCoco is a small, independent business that sells their designs on Etsy. Once I stumbled upon the design, I couldn't imagine another decal set in Baby's room. This is perfectly cute. Baby animals that aren't too cartoonish or creepily realistic. And it hasn't given Baby nightmares like the giraffe soft toy a friend gifted. Baby Pham has definitely been a cuddly koala this year so his room decorations are very fitting. 

Since this photo was taken we've installed blockout blinds and replaced his ceiling fan with something newer, smaller and quieter. Seems like 9 months old is when life got easier and we were able to do nice things instead of focussing on the bare minimum. 

I took Baby Pham to visit the work crew and one of my colleagues asked when I'd gotten engaged. I forgot I'd started wearing a ring on my ring finger because it no longer fit on my middle finger. I told him my fingers got fat after pregnancy and they haven't deflated to the size they used to be. I have no plans to marry.

Boyfriend Pham isn't a huge romantic by any stretch of the imagination. He compliments me by comparing me to food. He's really into carbs: pizza, pita, roti, milk buns, tortillas - if it has any type of flour, he's down. So when he tells me I'm a "fancy loaf" that's about as close to sweet-talk as we get.

Keep this in mind when I tell you that one day when we were in the car, I think he was driving and I was the passenger. He looked over and told me, "You can marry me if you want." Then looked back at the road. What? The audacity! He said it as a joke, but he also would marry me if that's what I wanted. Luckily for both of us, I'm too frugal to get married so that flop of a proposal isn't our proposal story. 

If I want more legal rights then I'd opt for power of attorney over marriage since commitment isn't an issue for us. We've bought a home together, share all our finances, adopted a cowardly little lion (Rei Pham) and we now share our genes with Baby Pham so we're linked for life even if we break up. That's commitment enough for me. It's now an ongoing joke whenever he does something to annoy me, I say I want a divorce and he says I have to marry him first.

If Mum Pham were around I'd marry Boyfriend Pham so Mum could have a big-ass wedding, invite every person who has ever crossed her path, and months of bragging rights. Mum Pham only had a small wedding being a refugee in Germany. I'd have spent tens of thousands of dollars to make her happy. But Mum isn't around now I've found someone worth marrying, and Dad Pham does not give a crap about matrimony so I'll use my money to pay down our mortgage.

So Baby Pham is a bastard. My bastard. If he wants his parents to marry when he's older, then I would consider it. But for now, it's not a priority. 

One thing I wasn't prepared for being a primary carer for Baby Pham was sun-damaged hands. I suppose there are many more important things to talk about when it comes to raising a baby, which is why I was never warned that new mums (and dads) have an equivalent to a Trucker's Arm. This, my friend, is what I call Pram Hands.

Pushing the pram around every day in the sun led my previously healthy, office worker hands to become a dry and crusty dark brown. I learned to pile on the sunscreen pre-walk and then moisturise post-walk to keep my hands from shrivelling up due to prolonged sun exposure. Not a problem I had when I walked with my hands swinging by my sides without a care in the world, before my hands started keeping another being safe and well.

This was a short-lived first world problem for new parent life, because around 8 months old, Baby Pham got over being in the pram so we stopped going for daily walks. These days I only walk to local activities and shops a couple of times a week. Most of the time when I try to take him out in a pram, I end up wearing him in a carrier and the pram is used to push around his nappy bag. I kinda miss my Pram Hands days - the passive exercise of walking was good for my mental and physical health.

I was a wreck the first six weeks with Baby Pham. The anxiety and fear and worry over keeping Baby alive and thriving was crippling. I've never experienced anxiety before. Sure, I've been nervous before big life milestones or changes, but I've never had my nerves shake me to the point where they impacted my decision-making and actions (or inaction). 

Simple things I did before suddenly became overwhelming with the added baby logistics - pram, car seat, carrier, nappies, outfit changes, bibs, bottles. The rational side of me knew millions of parents did this every day. The irrational side of me couldn't see how I could possibly manage it. 

The lack of sleep didn't help, but I don't think that was the main factor. I was full of raging hormones and while I had wild hormones during pregnancy, I only had to care about feeding and sleeping myself then. Postpartum I had a tiny, fragile human whose life literally depended on me being switched on because he hadn't yet learned how to feed and poop and sleep outside the safety of a womb. The pressure of this responsibility crushed me. 

My main outings with Baby were to his medical appointments. Baby was thriving despite his reflux while Mum was struggling with her mental health. 

Our GP told me to get out of the house, the more I do it, the easier it will get. Sounds simple enough, yet felt unachievable to me at the time. The child health nurses gave me a plethora of support services for new parents after I made it to a drop-in clinic without Boyfriend Pham for the first time and burst into tears. Boyfriend Pham had accompanied us all the other times but he was back in the office by then. 

The main message I understood was to "Find your village" and connect with the community. I always thought this meant family and friends but being isolated on the Northside of Brisbane I didn't have my Southside siblings around. Instead, I ended up signing up for a bunch of different services and connected with other new parents in my local area. 

My all-time favourite has been the Pregnancy Counselling Link's Koala Joeys Program which was recommended to me by a Girl's Night friend. Baby Pham and I went religiously every week. The only times we skipped was when one of us (usually both of us) was sick. 

Peach Tree in Nundah was another sanity saver. I went to their parents and bubs yoga until Baby Pham got too active and disruptive to the classes. But while he was barely crawling, it was bliss being able to stretch and relax my tense muscles with yoga while he played on a playmat or lay beside my yoga mat. 

Queensland Health provided a number of services that are opt-in.  I joined a mother's group where they connected a bunch of us who had babies within a month of each other and lived in the general area. I also opted in for their Circle of Security program because Little Sissy Pham recommended it having gone through the learning with her bub. 

All of is lengthy post is to say, find local support programs near you. It helped me get out of the postpartum depression hole I was in, and I've made a few mum friends who I plan to stay in touch with once I'm no longer on parental leave. 

Boyfriend Pham and I aren't married - hence, calling him Boyfriend instead of Husband - and his surname isn't Pham. Even though I love my name - Jade Pham, short, sharp and to the point - there are a bazillion Phams out there and thousands of Jade Phams because 'Ngoc' meaning jade is a very common Vietnamese first name.

When it came to picking a surname for Baby Pham, it was a no-brainer. Boyfriend Pham's surname is so unique he's related to everyone in Australia who has his surname. So: decision made. No patriarchal reasons. If I had a less generic surname, I'd have used mine. If you know a Pham in Australia, chances are I am NOT related to them. The surname was easy.

The first name was a little trickier to pick when we had every name in the whole wide world to choose from. But once I put together a short list of names, we quickly realised we don't like most names. We whittled the list down to two options. One option we'd 'matched' on Baby Name App (a Tinder-style app) where we swiped yes or no to names we liked. It was our only match. The other option was the only name Boyfriend Pham didn't cross off my shortlist.

When people asked about Baby Pham's name before he arrived, we'd tell them we were tossing up between two options (without revealing what the options were). By the time I was in the birthing suite, I was pretty confident I'd ruled out the Tinder-style baby name - I'd only swiped yes because it sounded cute but have you met me? I may make a cute baby with my off-the-chart wide chubby cheeks, but he's very unlikely to grow up to be cutesy. If Boyfriend Pham and I live up to our expectations of ourselves as his parents, Baby Pham will be confident, kind and smart. So we chose a name that's direct and to the point like we are.

So far he's living up to his name. I wish I could share his face with you because he has very stern eyebrows when he's considering things. You'll just have to trust me that our little dumpling gives the People's Eyebrow vibes:

Little Sissy Pham told me life with Nephew Pham got easier around the 3-month mark when he started to sleep better and generally be more robust. For us, it was around the 4-month mark.

The first 9 weeks were terrible because Baby Pham had reflux, which meant he couldn't be put down flat on his back to nap or sleep for about an hour after feeding (unless we wanted him to wake himself up vomiting and needing a change and being very upset). There was maybe a 5-minute window where he could comfortably do tummy time each day and I felt so guilty that I didn't put him down as much as guidelines tell us to (I fretted for nothing, Baby Pham was on his tummy almost nonstop at 4 months, and commando crawling like a champ by 5 months - a couple of months before babies usually start covering big distances with intention. He went from being most immobile to the most mobile baby in the few regular playgroups we go to).

Once he outgrew his reflux (he still spat up a lot until around 7 months), Baby Pham started having trouble pooping and would have inconsolable screaming fits before each bowel movement. That lasted a few awful weeks until I learned from our GP that he was getting too much foremilk from my boobs and it was giving him lactose overload and upsetting his belly. Then he went from belly aches before poops to explosive diarrhea that slipped out in sharts and poops - our nappy bill doubled for two months until we introduced solids at 4 months.

Around the 4 month mark when his eating and bowel movements settled, I finally felt like I got the hang of this infant parenting thing. Which is to say, anything bad? You just gotta wait it out. Babies grow so fast by the time you adjust what you're doing you don't know whether the change you made helped or if Baby outgrew the issue.

Boy, did Baby Pham have a poor streak of luck between 5-8 months. It all kicked off with his first round of teething around the 5-month mark. Every week there was something new for the next three months and counting...

Teething two bottom teeth, baby's first virus, windburn dribble rash that turned into eczema, teething top two middle teeth (one took 5 agonising days to cut through), second virus, teething round three, ear infection from swimming lessons (antibiotic ear drops were needed to fix this), third virus, food allergy hives outbreak... I'm bracing myself for what's next.

All of the above triggered overnight sleep issues. Poor bub was so uncomfortable he'd wake up every hour not able to resettle or connect his sleep cycles. Hence, this mum not writing blog entries for half a year. I have never been so exhausted and brain-dead in my life. I'm also the happiest and most fulfilled I've ever been in my life so: worth it. Though, in the sleepless nights and zombie days, what keeps me going is knowing that whatever the current hurdle is, it will pass. I'll do my best to move it along, but most of the time there are no quick fixes so I just have to try my best and wait it out.

Every baby is different, which is why all the parenting books give out varying and often conflicting advice. The first eight weeks (aka newborn phase) were pretty much a roller coaster of anxiety, trying to interpret Baby's needs and adapting to them but never really knowing if what we did improved things or made them worse or Baby Pham just moved onto the next thing despite every effort.

The downside of growing up without much exposure to new babies and new parent life meant Boyfriend Pham and I fumbled around in the dark for a lot of it. Little Sissy Pham had forgotten a lot of the newborn nuances of her baby by the time we met ours.

Pretty much all of newborn parenting was an anxiety-riddled worryfest where we guessed Baby's needs and tried our best to roll with the punches. The one time in life, you wish everyone wasn't unique so we could have a 'how to baby' manual. I asked Little Sissy and Sister-Not-In-Law for their experiences and sometimes what worked for their bubs worked for us, sometimes it didn't and we had to try something different.

Baby Pham was mix-fed formula and breastmilk from day 5 of his life. As soon as he started feeding, we learned he had bad (though not severe enough for medication) reflux and couldn't be put down to sleep because he was uncomfortable. There was a lot of contact naps and even contact overnight sleeps with him on me in a reclined nursing chair and pillows everywhere so he wouldn't fall if I dropped him in my sleep. Thankfully no scares or close calls, mum hormones and instincts kept me semi-conscious even as I slept with him in my arms. We tried our best to follow recommendations (sleep baby flat on back in bassinet with no loose items that can be choking hazards), but sometimes you just gotta do what you need to get by.

The first eight weeks were terrifying and exhilarating, and I'm so glad to be out of that intense phase. The number of decisions you have to make on behalf of a baby that can only communicate through crying while getting very little rest or sleep is overwhelming at the best of times and crippling at the worst of times. Experienced parents tell us the next baby is easier because you know what to expect, which is basically a free-for-all unstructured shitshow where you hang on to the edge of your seat and hope to make it to the end of the show. Good luck, first-time parents! I wish you all the best with your trial by fire.

I've never felt so out of my depth before in my life coming home with Baby Pham in tow. There's so much support and scrutiny when you're pregnant, and while you're delivering the baby and then... you're on your own, kid. Except you're no longer the kid and you have a tiny fragile newborn kid that you have to somehow keep alive and thriving for the rest of your life.

I spent two nights in the hospital after giving birth because I needed to prove I could pee on my own the next day, and Baby Pham had to pass 24 hours of blood glucose tests because I had gestational diabetes.

The first night in hospital Baby Pham was sleepy from his exhausting journey to the outside world. The second night was torture for me with Baby's cluster feeding - I could not put him down or he'd start screaming. I'd been told about cluster feeding but I didn't understand it'd be a 5-7 day marathon I'd have to run immediately after giving birth. They don't specify that no sleep will be had with a newborn that's trying to bring in breast milk.

It was surreal coming home with a newborn that a couple of nights ago was in my belly. As Boyfriend Pham and I left the hospital we pushed Baby to the ward entrance in his trolley as per hospital rules for moving around with babies - carrying Baby in arms while walking about was a no-no. The nurse took the trolley and told us, "You're discharged. You make up the rules now." And so we walked out of the hospital with me carrying Baby Pham and Boyfriend Pham carrying our luggage. He drove us home while I sat in the back next to our teeny, tiny newborn in his gigantic-seeming car seat. We arrived home, took Baby inside and looked at each other. "Now what?"

'What' was and has been determined by Baby Pham ever since.

At first, he was hungry and wanted to feed constantly to bring in my breastmilk. The first night at home, I sat up all night with bub on the couch trying to let Boyfriend sleep but he could hear Baby wailing all night. The second night at home I sat with bub in the nursing chair and when Boyfriend checked in on us at 3:30am, I was sobbing and feeling like I was failing our baby because my milk wasn't coming in. We decided to give him formula that I'd bought as a 'just-in-case' from Day 5 onwards. And so, the nurse's parting words came true, we began to make up our own rules as parents to our newborn Baby Pham.

I haven't had many opportunities let alone the brain capacity to write blogs with Baby Pham taking up my every waking moment. I have, however, had plenty of time to sit in the dark in a nursing chair cuddling my baby at godawful hours, pondering random life things like what if I chop off all my hair to save blow-drying it and also, why didn't my postpartum hair loss thin it out more so there'd be less to maintain? Or what if I try to keep Baby Pham awake before dinner or let him nap for longer or let him nap for shorter to see if that helps his bedtime sleeping? (In reality, he does whatever the fuck he wants and some nights he'll nap before dinner and go to bed right after while other nights he naps and is up for two hours after dinner, then yet on other nights he won't nap before dinner and also won't go to sleep after dinner.)

Yes, I spent many sleepless nights pondering how to get Baby to sleep more so I, too, can get more sleep. But I don't think I'll ever figure it out and eventually Baby Pham will just sort himself out when he's ready. So then I move on to other thoughts. One of them is how I would approach blogging about my life while respecting Baby Pham's privacy. My world revolves around baby now, if I didn't write about him then I wouldn't have anything to blog about. Though I've decided with Boyfriend Pham to keep Baby Pham offline so I won't be sharing any identifiable information about him or images of him. The 2000 photos I already have (not an exaggeration) will remain locked away.

We aren't sharing Baby Pham's face on our private social media accounts either. We will wait until he's old enough to understand the risks of being visible online and capable of giving consent. If you're a Phamly friend reading this and don't want to wait almost two decades to know what my chunky monkey looks like, feel free to message me. If you're a stranger passing by my blog, you can look up the Boy Scout named Russell in the animated movie UP - our little dumpling looks a lot like Russell but with a naturally formed mohawk.

What happened immediately after Baby Pham was out of my womb is a bit of a blur as I write this four months later (I am posting this 7 months later, this year has been a blur). I will try and record what I can remember.

The midwives immediately placed Baby Pham on my chest once they checked he was alive and well. His little chin quivered and he cried. One of the midwives moved him to my right breast but he wouldn't latch. She started trying to express colostrum without asking my permission or telling me what she was doing and I yelped in pain when she pinched my boob. I didn't see it coming because I only had eyes for Baby Pham. I had moved him over to my left breast because Boyfriend Pham was on my left and I wanted Baby as near to him as possible. Thankfully, while she was just starting to try and express colostrum from my right boob, Baby Pham latched onto my left so she left me alone with Baby and Dad after only one pinch. This was the only misstep by the midwives in an otherwise great birthing experience.

I opted to get an injection to force the placenta out rather than wait for my hormones to manage it naturally. I'm grateful for the critical role my placenta performed in bringing bub to me, but I wasn't emotionally attached to it - nor did I want to eat it, or plant it or any of the other things people do with their placentas. Birthing the placenta was a really weird sensation after feeling such heavy pressure there from a solid baby moments earlier. The placenta was a flexible blob so it simply slipped out of me without the need to bear down. I asked to see my placenta out of curiosity. I'd heard of other mums whose placenta deteriorated towards the end of pregnancy. Mine was healthy and kinda looked like a red steak. Nature. How bizarre.

We stayed like this with Baby Pham for a while because we had to wait for a senior surgeon to come and have a look at my two second-degree tears. The one on my perineum the doctor stitched up but the other tear that ran millimetres from my urethra and clitoris needed someone more senior to look at.

Eventually, Boyfriend Pham cut the umbilical cord and watched Baby get checked and weighed, while the senior surgeon assessed my damage and decided I didn't need surgery so stitched me up on the spot. The midwives seemed proud that I hadn't taken any pain medication for birth and the doctors were impressed I breathed through the local anesthetic injections in sensitive areas of my genitals. I'm lucky I have a high pain tolerance, it would have made the unpleasant experience even worse.

Boyfriend Pham advocated for skin-on-skin time with Baby while I had a shower made a little awkward by my catheter (they weren't sure if I could pee or not with the tear so near my uretethra). I suppose this was a second misstep by the midwives that they didn't offer or suggest skin-on-skin time for the father while I was preoccupied.

Overall, we had a wonderful birth experience and the hospital team handled our hurdles and hiccups with care and confidence. Giving birth was the most intense experience of my life, and it was worth it to meet my little man on the other side.

Our fertility and pregnancy experience