I am afflicted by a London-based curse. Well, for me it is London based. I develop tonsilitis and bronchitis every year. The first time it happened was our first year in London, December 2004, just in time for our wedding. I kind of croaked my ‘I do’s’ through a drug induced, fevered hue.
Of course, the timing for this could not be worse.
Firstly, I have a house full of guests on Friday night, and I am officially behind schedule. The ‘gifts’ have been made, and the groceries bought.
I have made a few dozen Christmas Tree and Christmas Stocking biscuits, and they should have been iced today, and weren’t. Which leads me nicely to secondly.
Ameli is still not well, and has a very bronchial cough. She also seems to be undergoing yet another growth spurt. I haven’t taken her to be weighed and measured for a while as the clinic times on a Monday clash with our baby yoga class, but I know she’s growing, so I’m not too worried.
Today, however, whether it was sickness of growth, my little girl was constantly hungry and tired. She woke up bright as a daisy at 6am wanting to feed, and didn’t go back to sleep as she normally does. I ended up in bed till after 13:00 just feeding and snoozing with my little one!
I have to admit that it was pleasant, despite the discomfort of golf ball sized glands and a hacking cough, but the prolonged and frenzied feeding did make me wonder whether being ill can affect breast milk supply?
When I go to the pharmacy tomorrow to buy some Kali.Mur, my saving grace when it comes to my annual affliction, I think I’ll stock up on some Nettle or Fenugreek Tea, just to make sure there’s enough good milk there.
Even now I can hear her blocked nose snores coming from the bedroom, and I am psyching myself up for another night with a warthog, grunting and groaning and growing, steadily, and way too fast.