Got a package the other day from Mum - nursing tops ahoy! I have found it rather difficult to find good quality (but reasonably priced) clothes here in Iceland, so huzzah for overseas suppliers of stuff! Also Henry got an awesome outfit and a book that is a dog. It's also about a dog, so that makes sense.
The dude and I went to the mother's group on Monday and it was really fun! There were six other ladies there, five with boys and one lonely girl. Henry was by far the youngest, so he mostly sat with me while the other kids played together, but he seemed pretty interested in watching everyone else. Also, it was awesome to get out of the house and talk to people.
And it's good to get other people's opinions: Henry has been taking vitamin D drops for about a month now, I'm not sure if babies all over the world have to do that, but they were strongly recommended by the midwives here. Unfortunately, they play havoc with his stomach, so the poor little dude hasn't been sleeping very well lately.
Anyway, I mentioned it at the group, and the general consensus was that they're not worth the effort. Babies this young get upset tummies, so most of the mums just waited until the little ones started eating real food, and gave them cod liver oil instead.
I did some looking around on the internets, and the idea seems to be that there isn't usually enough vitamin D in breastmilk because the mothers aren't getting enough. But given that there isn't that much sunlight here to begin with, people (including me) are all taking some form of supplement on a daily basis. So maybe I have more vitamin D in my milk than say, someone in Perth - you wouldn't expect to be deficient in such a sunny place, but with the super emphasis on slip, slop, slap, people probably don't get much real sun exposure in the end.*
Anyway, the point of the above speculative rant is: I hope Henry doesn't get rickets, but I don't think he will.
* Did I just become one of those people who bandies about stupid ideas that could do more harm than good? Oops, my contradictions are showing.
In other news, I have been suffering from the toothache from hell for most of the past week. It started aching a bit on Friday night last week (natch), so on Monday I called up for an appointment at the dentist. They offered one on the following Monday, but that night the pain got heaps worse, so I phoned again on Tuesday, and they found me a time slot for Wednesday.
Tuesday night was the longest and most pain-filled night ever, even worse than that one where I was in labour. I had forgotten how bad toothaches can be - there should definitely be a separate word for that kind of pain. I went on a website to look at home remedies for toothache - my favourite suggestion was Vicodin! Um, yeah... I don't think that counts as a 'home remedy'. I found a combination of things that eased the pain enough to sleep a bit, but by 'a bit', I mean maybe one hour total, in five to ten minute blocks. UGH.
Went in on Wednesday, totally sleep deprived and still in agony, and the guy numbed my mouth, filled a tooth and sent me home. Yay! I slept for a couple of hours while the anaesthetic was still working, then it was alright for a little while longer, then the pain just came back and brought along a bunch of painful friends...
So Wednesday night Ross drove me to the hospital to get some painkillers, which then didn't work (alas, they were not Vicodin), so I got my uncle's wife to phone them for me and demand some better painkillers, or even that they check me in and sedate me. It was such a horrible feeling, nothing was helping me feel better, and I was so exhausted and befuddled by pain that I couldn't even think straight. At least with childbirth, all the pain was leading up to a reward, there were people looking after me and there were intervals where I actually felt okay and could rest.
Anyway, the doctor on call phoned the dentist, so at ten pm I went in and he did what I suspect may have been a root canal? Oh my gosh, that anaesthetic was pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me. So it turns out it was the tooth NEXT to the one he filled that was causing the trouble - well done, dentist man!
So he fixed it all and sent me home, and Ross slept downstairs with the dude so that I could get a proper night's sleep. It was amazing.
My conclusion: toothache = worse than childbirth. Or more accurately, this particular toothache was worse than my particular childbirth.
I was trying to upload a video so that I didn't have to end on that note, but it doesn't seem to be working... Oh well, nevermind, I've been meaning to post this post for about three days now, no more putting it off for whatever reason!