When it Rains it Pours

(literally and figuratively!)

Yesterday stank. Some days just do.

It seems strange to be writing a "normal" post before even posting the biggie, the Birth Story. I have been working on it, a bit, off and on. It´s not going to be very polished, because I´m so obsessed with remembering the details. This is why my entries tend to be on the long side.... and, frankly, I do it for myself. You read it, but I really post most of the things I post for myself: to remember the "stuff" that my days are made of.

Thus, you shall soon read all about my birthing-experience here (or not....). It will be posted, eventually. It´s strange to be relying on my own vague memories of the ordeal & on Daniel´s account of the event. I have a video of Ari´s birth.... strange as it is to relive that experience, it serves my memory primarily, and I love having access to it. The details start to fade, even after a week, and I want so much to remember it.
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Back to more recent events... These days have been relatively calm and quiet, all things considering. Anika is such a calm baby. I´m almost hesitant to speak that into the universe, because it might change.... but, so far, we have been blessed with a child who sleeps and eats by the book. It means that we still have most of the day to do as we used to: entertain Ari, cook, watch movies (when Ari´s sleeping). I count myself very lucky indeed.

Yesterday, however, was dreadful. We had to go to the medical clinic for Anika to get her second heel prick test. Now, in Spain, this requires that the baby be "en ayunas" (fasting) for an hour and a half prior to the pinch. I don´t remember that from Ari´s experience.
I tried to plan for this, but as most mothers would know, that is not entirely possible with a nursing newborn. Anika is fed on demand, and I can´t force her to eat on a schedule. So, I tried to feed her an hour and a half before the appointment, so that she would be full and alright..
well, in vain, of course. Anika did not feel the need to eat at all. So, we drove to the clinic with a SCREAMING baby. She cried and I cried almost as much. I did. Call me dramatic or oversensitive....whatever. I held her and felt so helpless: I knew that I could put an end to the crying instantly, but was forced to let her wait. Ah. It made me so mad at the system: again.. I am always mad at "the system"! I was like, "how could they expect this??? what´s wrong with them?" But, according to the nurse, it was crucial that Anika be empty-stomached for the test-results.
And, since we are in the land of "later", we had to wait past our appointment-time. That made me even more upset. And then there was a couple of junkies, and the woman came over to see Anika... and that made me nervous, because I get so overprotective when it comes to my children. Don´t we all??? I felt bad for being politically incorrect, or paranoid, or whatever I was... Finally, it was our turn, and Anika was still screaming.... She had to be pinched not once, but twice, because the nurse couldn´t get enough blood out of her tiny heels. She started to cry, and then.....that AWFUL silence: the minute of airless and soundless screaming that preceeds the real thing: the screeching. Tears were rolling down Anika´s cheeks, and I felt so so sad for her... Not just because she was in pain (the nurse was trying to squeeze the blood out), but because she was STILL hungry. And then I had to undress her for the weighing and measuring.

It must have been Anika´s hardest day yet. But then I nursed her, right there in the doctor´s office....and everything got a little better. At least...until we had to walk through the rain to get back to our car.

I was so stressed out... Daniel & Ari went to the grocery-store in the meantime. They were stressed out, too.

Well, we got home, and everyone tried to get over it. Anika went right back to sleep (as she does all day), and the rest of us had supper and chilled.

All is well here. We are so glad to be together: the four of us. Now it really feels like a family. I know.... we were a family before, too. But Anika has made it all even more beautiful. She fits perfectly.

Happy New Year, folks!

p.s. I have SO enjoyed the (real) rain.

Anika Josephine

Those Last Days:

I was getting awfully impatient to meet my baby-girl, but the due-date passed and nothing seemed to be happening. No contractions, really, except for the occassional insignificant cramp..... I was still comfortable, walking around with my modest belly, and it was making me very antsy. Baby-Zus followed in her older sister´s footsteps indeed, as everyone had predicted...arriving 5 full days after the due-date (thankfully, not 12 days, as Ari did, but still on the late side).

The Birth Story: (for a short summary, skip this rant and check the end of the entry).

Ari had been sickly for a few days, but woke up active and cheerful on Friday (Dec.18) morning, so we carried on as usual. I convinced Daniel to accompany me and Ari on a trip to the mall, for some last-minute Christmas shopping. We didn´t buy much of anything, but had lunch at Burger King. Daniel bought Ari a kiddy-meal (miracle of miracles!), he ordered a huge burger for himself, and went to the Kebab-place to pick up a chicken-durum for me.
(yes, this is all beside the point, but I want to remember the details... so bear with me!)
Anyway, we returned home on the bus, and Ari had another spell of fever. High fever. So, at 6 o´clock, we were on our way to our health-clinic with Daniel´s mother. That´s where it all began.

I felt the first hint of a contraction at 18:00 exactly. It caught me by surprise. Then, a prompt 8 minutes later, I felt another one. So, I looked at Daniel and said something might be happening... I smiled. The "contractions" continued while we took Ari to her appointment, but they were so mild that I felt no need to stop what we were doing. Instead, I was very excited and cheerful, and told Ari´s pediatrician that I thought my baby might be coming soon.
At 20:00 we headed to my in-laws´house. We discussed the situation with Susie and decided it might be wise for us to stay with them, just in case the delivery was really going to start that night. We put Ari to bed in their attic & had some supper. I called my personal midwife & advisor ( :-) ), Melanie, and she said things would have to start hurting a whole lot more before I´d need to head to the hospital. It couldn´t be that serious yet if I was just sitting there, chatting with her.

Nonetheless, the contractions were so regular, and the intervals so short. I called my mother at around 22:00 and decided to take a shower. Meanwhile, Daniel and his father drove to our house to pick up the hospital-bag and everything Ari would need. By the time they returned, at around 23:00, I was starting to struggle. It became more difficult to talk during a contraction, and it felt like my lower body was being ripped off my upper body. I kid you not, labor is no fun. I had forgotten just how painful it was.
I tried to rest for a while. Ari woke up and cried out for me. I couldn´t even respond to her, I was so concentrated on the contractions. The pauses between contractions became so short so fast.... 4 minutes, and then 3. It was time to head to the hospital..just in case.
Daniel´s father drove us to the hospital, and we arrived at a few minutes before midnight. I got into a wheelchair and my legs were shaking, trembling. Daniel and his dad talked me through the breathing-techniques.... I don´t think I did so well. I am just not a skilled breather.

We had to wait in the cold hallway for a while. Then a nurse summoned me and I was put on the monitor. Daniel was told to wait outside, for a stupid reason (because there were other women in the rooms around there... getting checked for dilation: but that was ridiculous, because it´s not like any of them were in sight, but whatever), and the nurse prepared my hand for the mandatory IV-drip. She told me I was 4 cm dilated, and officially "de parto". She had to wait until a contraction had passed so that she could do the pinching. Then, I had to change into the hospital-robe. Then (and this is exactly the sort of thing I was expecting and dreading) they were processing my paperwork, forcing me to suffer through my contractions in the drafty hallway, without a chair for support. Oh, and could I please give them some fingerprints in the meantime? No explanations, no "we are going to do this, just wait one second". No encouragement of any sort.
The waiting didn´t last long (it can´t have, considering the baby was born within an hour of our arrival at the hospital), but minutes seem like hours, nay days, when you are in labor. And I thought it was all pretty ridiculous....the way they were not taking care of me! Daniel was still outside, so I didn´t have him to support me, either.

I was parched. Parched. I wanted water, or chapstick, or something.... and they refused.. Not even a drop of water.

Anyway, I was taken to the dilation-room. This is where the fun began. They gave me an enema, but it was too late.... I started to feel the need to push.... I told them to go get my husband, and they complied, thankfully. Daniel arrived just in time. While the 5 midwives were standing around, chatting, I was going through the worst of my labor-pains, and Daniel summoned them, saying "she needs to push!". They were very aloof throughout all of this, but they said I could push if I needed to, so I did. And there she was, at 00:51 on December the 19th. They handed Anika to me, and I loved her immediately. She felt like "my own", and I held her and forgot all about the agony of having to push her out of my body.

All the clichés are true. Seeing your baby´s face, after such a long wait, takes your mind off the pains of childbirth. All you can think is, "here (s)he is....my very own".

The fact that the midwives paid so little attention to me probably worked in my favor, because I ended up having as natural a birth as was possible in the hospital-setting. It was too late for any type of medical intervention: I just had to let it all happen, and that is great. The pain was overwhelming and intense, because I went from being 4 cm dilated to being fully dilated in about 20 minutes.... but then it was over. (so, I might be complaining about the lack of guidance on the part of the medical staff, but I guess that allowed me to do this the natural way.) I wasn´t forced to follow a particular set of steps, I wasn´t forced to wait....I just pushed & that was that.

Then they took Anika to be cleaned and dried, and Daniel went with her. I was back on my own, and it was back to "labor" for me.. (a woman´s work is never done!) I had to deliver the placenta, which went fine. However, then the membranes (the bag: the baby´s home in the womb, in other words) didn´t come out well. So the midwive started pressing on my belly, trying to push them out.. It was very uncomfortable. She seemed to press my belly down into my back, repeatedly.... until every piece of membrane made it out. A necessary procedure, because leaving them inside could cause bloodclots, etc.

Daniel and Anika returned to the room, and the three of us waited there for about 2 hours before we were finally taken to our recovery-room. During those waiting-hours, I phoned my parents and my sister, Anika nursed, and another woman in labor screamed dramatically & incessantly....... It was very surreal.
The midwives seemed to have abandoned us. Finally, a guy came to roll me away. I had Anika in my arms & Daniel beside me, and I felt giddy with excitement. The hospital hallways were so cold. Anika came into the world in the cold of winter, just like her sister....greeted by the frost outside.

The rest of the hospital-stay was quite uneventful. To sum things up: the bathroom was filthy, the room was drafty (if you had told me we were in, say, Russia, I would have believed it), and no one gave us any directions, no one told us what was going to happen. The nurses took Anika to the "nido" (the nest: or nursery), to get her warm on some type of thermal plate. We wanted her back....it was taking too long. They must have kept her for close to two hours, but gave us no indication that it would be so long.

Our roommates arrived at 6 that morning. And with them (several hours later), a lot of loud visitors... No one paid attention to visiting-hours, of course. Anyway, I recovered quickly. No stitches, which made everything a lot more comfortable. The first night & day were rough, but Anika turned out to be very calm. She only really cries when she is hungry, and she sleeps a lot. When awake, she is very alert, but she just stares at everything and rarely fusses. She gives us no trouble at all.

Next: a family of four....how have we adjusted.... (be on the look-out.)

Anika´s Birth in a Nutshell: *born at 00:51 in the dilation room of the hospital, less than an hour after our arrival at the hospital. no complications. *weight: 3345 grams *length: 51 cm

The Waiting & Wondering

I knew it would come to this. My due-date is just around the corner (on Monday), but I shouldn´t be this antsy quite yet. Not with my history. Wow, that sounds like I´ve birthed a dozen children: no, I just mean the one....Ari´s late arrival. I should know better than to get impatient, because this daughter is probably in no more of a hurry than her older sister.

But, being foolish and impatient, I sit and wait for it. Well, I do a lot of cleaning, too, these days. But you get the idea. I keep wanting things to start; so curious about this delivery-experience, although it also really makes me nervous... And nothing is starting, as far as I know. The baby is very active, but I have no pains, no signs that labor is just an hour or day away (even though, technically, it could).

I need some distraction. So, I´ll focus on throwing Ari a fabulous birthday-bash this Saturday. We´re celebrating early, for all obvious reasons. And I´ll watch movies. And I´ll try to take naps, while Ari takes hers. And I´ll clean. Yes, there´s nothing like preparing "the nest" to make the days fly by. And, then, before we know it, Baby-Zus will have joined us. After what I hope will be another smooth & quick delivery. (though I´d appreciate it if she could let us arrive at the hospital with some time to spare, at least :-) I could totally imagine being one of those women who give birth in the taxi, or in the hospital-hallway. THAT would stress me out).

SO, any more predictions regarding the date??? Come on, people. Feedback!
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On to other things.... I´ve also been thinking about the greater things of life. About God and religion, and what place I want to give it in my own life & in that of my children. What do we base these things on?? What should I base it on, when I am so aware of my own ignorance regarding spiritual matters. The more I try to analyze my own belief-system, the more I realize that it is so related to other people: to my blind faith in other people´s faith.
I am so easily swayed by books and arguments..... So dependent on other people´s opinions.
It´s really pathetic, and I am quite disillusioned to discover how shallow my religious convictions really are. I´d love to be able to defend my choice of faith: to have things figured out.
I need to learn to think for myself, but I am so aware of my own limitations; I haven´t studied these things at any depth. I´ve never done the digging that choosing a religious/spiritual direction should involve. Where the notion of other dimensions is concerned, I am clueless. All I can say is that I´ve stuck with this life-view..... that it feels right, even though I am starting to accept the possibility that it is just a gamble, in the end. I mean, what do we REALLY know?

Then, how do I want to influence my children? DO I want to guide them in the same direction, or should I be very intentional about not indoctrinating them. Is it alright to teach them to accept something that leaves so many questions in my own mind???

Ah. The religious debate wears me out. It comes up every now and then, with friends of a variety of perspectives. And I always end up thinking, ¨well, I guess I don´t know anything at all.. but I´m going to stick with it anyway." I hate having to doubt things. Especially these major issues. I´d rather be completely convinced of something & totally adept at explaining my reasons for following a particular religious system.

I guess I´ll go prepare the beef-stew instead. That´s nice and simple. It usually turns out pretty scrumptiously, even though I do things differently every single time I make it. I would invite you all over to eat with us, but we´re worlds apart.
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Check out our Sinterklaas photos: we decided to have a little celebration, complete with politically incorrect Zwarte Piet-cupcakes, et al. (The Zwarte Pieten are St.Nick´s helpers, or slaves, I suppose....) The Dutch have never revised this part of the tradition, however racist it undoubtedly is. Anyway, we made chocolate cupcakes... And Ari put out her shoe the night before, with carrots for Sinterklaas´horse. (in return for which she received a bunch of presents).

Daniel is rather concerned. He worries that December is too much for Ari: too many gifts, too much hype & excitement. He´d rather skip the gift-giving altogether, but I live vicariously and can´t help but get caught up in the holiday-craze. And it is just too much fun to have these parties, and give Ari these gifts, and get all materialistic. Shame on me. Probably has something to do with the monotony of my life.

Of Love and Criticism...and Knowing Better.

As I am writing this, my belly is wild with movement, and there have been hints of false contractions. Unfortunately, I know that it can go on for weeks. I could still be pregnant 2 weeks from now, or a bit longer.... and I am not sure I mind that, but I am getting so so curious for this second birth, and about this second baby.

Sorry, people: these posts have been most monotonous. I had other plans for the blog, but motherhood plays so great a part in my life that I can hardly think of anything else. Especially as I am about to have a second child. So, here are some more thoughts regarding motherhood.

It changes a person. Duh. But, really, it changes so many subtle things.
So, as I was walking through this silent town a few afternoons, disappointed to see that the bakery was closed and Ari and I could not indulge in a croissant, I noticed another mother as she was loading (word choice?) her children into the car. She strapped her toddler into a carseat, amid protest, and seemed a bit flustered (something I immediately emphathized with!), and then proceeded to turn to child #2. That´s where the other side of my Mama-character came out. She removed the baby´s "cuco" (cradle/bed-part) from the stroller and put it in the front seat of her car, with baby and all. Then fastened it awkwardly with the seatbelt.
It bothered me. I felt such an urge to walk up to her and ask her what in heck she thought she was doing, and how could she be so irresponsible. Of course, I didn´t. This is not a time for confrontations: really, I don´t need to be beat up on, nor do I relish the idea of bursting into tears after a conflict with a stranger... (or anyone else, for that matter). No, I am too tired to argue.

Nevertheless, the arguments do take place...ALL the time....in my head. I tell other mothers off for being irresponsible (as in the car-situation) with their children, or for doing other things that just don´t make sense to me, or that seem totally wrong. It´s terribly catty and critical of me, but I can hardly stop myself. And, correct me if I´m wrong, but I think it is a character-trait (criticism) that comes with the territory. Part of it is protectiveness: as we nurture our own children, we inevitably gain a sense of responsibility for all the other children we come into contact with. We think, "that poor child, how could his/her mother be so stupid!", or "that is NOT the way to do this or that, or the other..."
Or maybe I am just hyper-critical. Maybe the rest of you don´t get so worked-up over the way other mothers do their job.

There´s a brighter & sweeter side to it, too, though. I get annoyed with other mothers, for whatever reason, but more often than that, I sympathize with them. When I see another mother in the grocery-store with a screaming toddler, I am not so quick to roll my eyes. I´ve been there, and I´m going to be in that situation so many more times. Because children get tired, and they throw fits, and it´s not always our fault. And that´s just my response to their children: I have more sympathy still for mothers who lose their tempers... It happens, and I never knew before that it is so easy for mothers to lose it. To feel totally overwhelmed and exhausted and insane. So, snapping at one´s child has become something I understand, even while I always regret doing it myself. Of course, this has its limits & boundaries, too, that I hope I´ll never cross, but when you´ve got a toddler of your own, it seems a lot more understandable (no matter how unforgivable!) that some parents just freak out and end up losing control altogether.

Anyway, I was just thinking about this... about how critical I am, in general, but particularly as a mother, and, on the opposite side, how much I´ve learned to sympathize with other mothers.

Full-Term

*I have a two-year old who enjoys playing in her room by herself. It surprises me all the time, but it is true: she wants that alone-time in her room every day. All I have to do is accompany her upstairs ("up da stairs") to her room ("woom"), put on her Christmas music or "Peter & the Wolf", and leave her to mess about. She can easily spend an hour in there. It makes me feel guilty sometimes......but then I remember that it (being alone) is a skill, and it is something that will benefit her in the future. The last thing she needs is to be glued to me all day. (especially now that she has a major life-change coming up...becoming a sister, and, thus, not having me to herself..) And, when she gets tired of it, she just opens the door and joins me wherever I am. The point of this is the following: Ari is being such a darling and letting me sit here at the computer, checking my Mothering-websites and writing an entry.
(it´s just strange, because Ari is a very social toddler...she loves to be around people. but I guess even extroverts need some space every day...)

Update on Ari´s post-pacifier sleep-routine: she is still struggling to fall asleep. However, she now makes it through the night without waking up and whining to get out of bed. So, it´s just a matter of smoothing over the falling-asleep process. Let´s hope she´ll improve that before Baby-Zus gets here. Because, really, it is annoying. We liked it when Ari used to point at her bed and lay down with a smile. We would like that back.... now.

I am 38 weeks pregnant & plump. It´s finally getting hard to tie my shoe-laces. I can still do it, but it´s not as easy as before. Getting out of bed is also more of a task, but I usually do so way too quickly and carelessly, giving myself a cramp or back-ache. I guess I just forget that I am pregnant..... or I forget that it means I need to slow down, anyway.

Nesting is such a powerful instinct. I mean that. It can turn a sloth into a bee, or ant, or some other diligent animal. You get my point. I´ve been vacuuming, moving stuff around, rearranging the medicine/bath-cabinet, washing&ironing, and thinking of the-next-thing.

The awkward phase of pregnancy has commenced. Awkward, because Baby-Zus can come whenever she wants. I am full-term. In fact, she could have already been here. I´m reminded of waiting for Ari, two years ago, in the same month..... walking around in Holland, just waiting, and wondering when she was going to come around. In the end, she made me wait a little extra. So, part of me knows that I shouldn´t expect an early arrival of this baby, either. But it´s inevitable: I can´t help but get antsy. I am so curious about this child, and so eager to see how she will change our lives.
I´ve packed the hospital-bag. In fact, when we went to Ryan&Jessica´s reception the other day, we put it in the back of the car....just in case. If I had actually participated in the dancing, Baby may have decided to become a Toledo-an (Toledana????). Alas, nothing happened. Not even a hint of anything. It was just me and my big belly, driving home & stopping for my first police-control (having to blow into the machine long enough for it to prove that I had not taken a drop of alcohol).

Having said that, the thought of labor makes me a little nervous. More than a little, in fact. Partly, because I know how much it hurts. It is scary when you don´t have a reference point, but in a way it is even more terrifying when you know what you´re headed toward. Nevertheless, I was blessed with a very quick first delivery, so the chances are that this one will be faster still... But it´s going to be rough. I will struggle. I will feel that desperation of "this isn´t going to work, she´s not going to come out!!" again. It will be hard to remember to breathe.
But there are the unknowns, too.... The unknowns of delivering in the Spanish system, under the guidance of whichever OBGYN or midwife happens to be on duty. I have met with different ones all throughout the pregnancy... never once returning to see the same face. And knowing that my only option for medical pain-relief is the epidural: something I plan to avoid. In Holland, I was blessed to have a very mild medication available to me: the newest thing on the market, which is now requested by many women in labor. Here, it will either be the epidural or nothing. And nothing can be a bit intimidating. I remember how the pain surprised me.... how it was more than I expected... I wasn´t much of a hero, once those mean contractions kicked in.
So, I am a little worried that I will feel tempted...tempted to ask for the epidural (with all that it entails), despite my reservations.

Now that I have that part- the pessimism- out of the way, I can say that I am a bit encouraged to know that a baby can indeed come out of there quite quickly :-) Also, I have asked Daniel for specific support this time: I´ve asked him to remind me to keep my thoughts on the goal- to direct me to think about the baby.. He did a good job last time: first, he told me I needed to keep breathing, and then he showed me how. He was very supportive: even as he ate an apple-turnover right in front of me whilst I was sighing through contractions.

I will keep you posted these days, as I have Braxton-Hicks contractions, mild and severe.... You can wait right along with me..... remind me not to get impatient. You can say, "Eef, it´s going to be a while.. hold your horses!"
Better yet, you can cast your vote: you can make your prediction of the delivery-date. Here are your facts: Keep in mind, my official due-date is Dec.14th. Ari´s birthday is the 17th (she was born 12 days after the due-date). So, what are your thoughts?? Daniel and I like the 12th of the 12th, but that happens to be the day we plan to throw Ari her birthday-party, so it´s not ideal :-) Please, not Christmas. Don´t throw that idea into the universe!

The winner will get............................ well, kudos. No naming-rights, or anything.

Job-Hunt

So, in the months ahead, I plan to rejoin the world of the living.......and look for a job.

This is intimidating for various reasons, the primary one being that it implies leaving part of the care of my children up to another (that other being Daniel, hehe :-) ).
That´s right! We´re considering a role-shift here. I haven´t worked since I got my MA degree in 2007, and I want to give it a try. This doesn´t mean that I am planning to be a career-woman altogether. No, my intention is to find a part-time job at first, so that I can still be at home with the girls several days a week. But, really, I think it will be great for Daniel to be a stay-at-home father, or, at least, to get a chance to take more of the care of the girls upon himself. And I could use some work-experience. Or a change of pace, anyhow. We´ll probably end up sharing the responsibilities: both of us will try to get a part-time job.

As for other factors that weigh heavily on my mind: I feel totally and utterly inept. I have mentioned this before, but let me emphasize it for you. I have these degrees, but doubt they will get me too far, too soon. If it were up to me, I would further my education...add some titles to the bunch. And establish some goodwill with the professors: find some ways to gain experience in the field. This is what I failed to do two years ago, when I was finishing my studies in Nijmegen. I went to class, got good grades, and that was that. I never tried to explore internship-options, or discuss the possibility of further academic research. So, here I am: a graduate without any experience in her field! This means that my job-options are pretty slim.
Sometimes I wish I were a little more confident in this aspect. You know, to apply for a job and promote myself without reservations! Instead, I am going to be like, "yeah, I don´t know why you´d hire me, either.....I have nothing to offer!"

Suffice it to say that this is all incredibly frightening. And overwhelming, in general, because, really, where does one start?? Those pages with job-vacancies make me feel so uneasy: there are so many boxes to check, so many search-terms that lead to different job-advertisements.

Ah, but I must get to it eventually. I suppose I´ll give birth first :-) Focus on what is just around the corner: the birth of my sweet second baby girl. She deserves my undivided attention first.

"Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot........"

That pacifier was a dearer friend than we realized. In fact, we´ve come to realize that it was more our friend than Ari´s.

It has been over a week now, and "Tut" has been sorely missed. Ari rarely mentions it at all, but we have noticed such a change since we´ve taken it away from her. Her sleep-routine and cycle have changed dramatically, and we´re not too pleased with it. So, while Ari has moved forward in life without her pacy, we often think, "if only we could let her use it again!"

This is how things have changed:
Whereas Ari used to just point at her crib, say "bed," gather her friends (Bunnydog, Greeny Mouse, and Winnie the Pooh, or "Pooh-ey"),and lay quietly until falling asleep, she now makes several demands before settling down.
First, she wants to sit with Mama, as I mentioned in other posts. Then, she wants an extra song, an extra story, and extra anything-to-keep-her-out-of-bed. All of this in addition to her regular routine, mind you. We do read to her, hold her, sing to her, and go through all the steps every night. Sometimes, she throws a terrible tantrum when we don´t comply. Her screeching and screaming really bother us, because it is such a new development. And we´re not going to let it continue. At first, I would give in: I would hold her a little longer, read the extra story. But then she´d cry even more, make more demands. So, one day, I walked out of her room while she was protesting, red with anger. I was angry, and thought it best to just leave her. Then, the unexpected happened...... she just calmed down immediately. We´ve used that tactic ever since.

So, the walking-away method has been effective, but we are a bit discouraged that it has come to that. She used to be so cooperative when it was time to go to sleep. Really a good sleeper.
And there is the second issue: waking up. Ari used to sleep in every day until about 8:30. A lot of times, she would wake up quietly and start to talk to herself or sing until we´d come in to fetch her and to greet the morning. It was ideal. I always knew we were lucky to have a child who slept in, because so many children start the day at 7, or earlier. Sometimes, Ari would even fall back asleep after the initial waking-up, and not get up again until 9:30.
Well, ever since we´ve gotten rid of the pacifier, she has been waking up at 7:40. A whole hour earlier than usual! Almost every day. And she wakes up with determination: she is ready to get out of bed, and we better go to her immediately. I realize that is not an ungodly hour by any means, but it has been an adjustment, especially as I am more tired than usual.
It also takes her about 3 times as long to fall asleep for her nap. She used to be quiet almost immediately and sleep for 2 and 1/2 hours. Now, it takes her 1 hour to actually fall asleep.
The pacifier seems to have played a bigger part than we realized. It helped her to fall asleep, to just rest and relax. And now that it´s gone, she is awake when she is awake.

These weeks have been challenging. Ari has made it a priority to test our boundaries....continuously. She must have a sensor for it, for her Mama´s slacking-off, or something. When I am on the phone (or otherwise distracted), she takes her chances. She will do almost everything that is not allowed.

I have been feeling like such a party-pooper. We´ve entered a new phase, and I doubt we´ll get out of it before the decade is over. I am no longer the best friend. I can´t be. Some mothers try that, but I don´t think it would benefit either of us. So, I burst Ari´s little bubbles: I am stern with her. She is so dramatic (wonder where she got that :-) ), and it is getting out of hand. She cries real tears, and whines so pathetically when we don´t let her get away with things.

Being 36+ weeks pregnant doesn´t make it any easier. I run out of patience and energy. She senses that, too. It´s going to be tough to transition to life as a Mama of 2. To have to give them both their attention: to tend to their needs simultaneously.
I look forward to Baby Zus´arrival... I am totally excited to see what she is like and how she will change our family-dynamics, but I also feel the weight of the responsibility already.

When Pregnant in Spain....

Heed my words, ´tis not something for the punctual, the prudish, or the presumptuous.

*You will be kept waiting. Also, everything regarding the time&place&purpose of your visit will be terribly vague. Remedy? CALL in advance: yesterday, I called my clinic to find out the details of today´s appointment. Whether I would be meeting with the matrona (midwife), or with the OBGYN, and whether I would need to go to the clinic or the hospital. Had I not called, I would not have discovered that the appointment-time on my digital record did not correspond with the time written down on my manilla envelope by the caregiver. So, 10:30 had turned into 11:03, and I would have never known, had I not decided to ask for details. On another note, calling doesn´t always clear things up. I asked whether my appointment would be for an ultrasound (as I guessed from where it had been written down on my envelope: in the column for OBGYN-check ups), or for a more basic check-up with the midwife. The answer I got from the desk-lady was, "it will not be for an ultrasound. You will meet with the matrona."

So, Ari and I headed to the clinic this morning, expecting a 2-minute mini-check up with miss matrona at 11:03, and getting quite the opposite. First, we had to wait for about half an hour (and I had stupidly rushed on my way over, because that´s my default pace...... so I arrived out of breath, annoyed, and warm). Then, I discovered that everything else I had been told was rubbish, too. (see next *)

*You will be exposed without warning: so, I stepped into the office to discover that, after all (and contrary to what I had been told), this was a more lengthy check-up with the OBGYN. For starters (and without any prior notice), they did a "cultivo" (strange word in this context) of my nether regions. "Regions", plural, that´s right. Without any explanation. I should have asked, of course, but I was completely taken by surprise. Nevertheless, it´s a matter of acting as nonchalant about it as they do. "Oh, you need to do some prying with that giant q-tip? Sure thing." A reminder to always be prepared & proper when heading to a Dr´s visit, by the way.
Oh, and, after some research, I discovered that these "cultivos" are now standard in the third trimester, and serve to detect a potential case of "Group B streptococcus".

*You will receive the least amount of information possible: and questions are neither expected nor appreciated. I insist, however. So, I always get a little annoying, asking "why" and "when" and "how". They must think I´m a smart-alec. When I shared my idea of presenting a Birth-Plan, they were like, "who do you think you are?? That is not the way we do things here!" Spanish medical caregivers expect their patients to just nod and get out of their office. This is why, 8 out of 10 times, I leave the check-ups with more questions than answers regarding my situation. I do ask a question or two, yes, but they are in such a hurry that you forget half of what you wanted to know more about. Most check-ups last a grand total of 2 minutes.

You usually end up feeling a little dazed by these check-ups. Usually, because you´ve just spent 2 hours getting there and walk away after a few minutes of nothing. Nothing, that´s right. Irrelevant questions, a look at the scale... and that´s that. But on other days (today, for instance), they check things you weren´t told would be checked. And then they do the longest ultrasound yet. At least I got that reward: I got to see Baby Zus´little face, and I made sure the OBGYN told me exactly how she was doing, and how she was floating in there. Finally, a confirmation that what I´ve been feeling on the left-middle section of my belly are indeed her feet, and that it is her bottom that is pressed against my ribs. And, more importantly, that she is not so tiny, after all. Yep, my belly may not be huge, but the baby is tall, just like her sister. As for my insignificant pouch: it´s just smaller because I´m "grandota". Thanks, M´am! Grandota, as in FAT, or tall???

Now, a nap is in order. Women, and mothers in particular, really are put through a LOT. I wonder how men would fare in similar predicaments.

The Will at the Wheel.

(How corny.) Oh My.

God must be orchestrating this, with this kind of logic: okay, so you´ve got about a month.... you better figure out this mothering thing with your firstborn before the baby makes her debut.

It has been an interesting week... interesting, as in HARD. With the pacifier-weaning, and all.
Actually, that has gone surprisingly smoothly: by the third night, Ari just let me tuck her in without any whining. And things stayed quiet. But last night, we had a bit of a situation.
Ari woke up at 1-ish & wanted to sit with me, as usual... So, she did. Only this time, she didn´t cue me to put her back to bed after 2 minutes. No, she demanded that I hold her, that I stay with her. She wanted her star-music, too. But I thought, "wait a minute, I am not going to stay in this chair all night.." and I put her in her bed. Well, she did NOT agree. She was enraged: she screamed and yelled, "mama zitten!", held on to my neck with violent insistence.

At first, I thought she may have just needed some extra comfort, but then I realized that I was dealing with a temper-tantrum. That it was a will-thing, not a need-thing. So, I stepped out of the room and stood by her door. She continued screaming, but it stopped after only a few minutes.

But, because I am really stupid sometimes, I figured she´d need to be tucked in again. Never mind that she was wearing a sleeping-bag, which would have kept her warm enough. I thought she needed to be checked on. SO, I foolishly opened the door and got the whole drama started again. It appears that "mama zitten" has become a substitute for the pacifier. But we weren´t going to follow through with that one.

It would have been nice to have Daniel there, but he had a concert and wasn´t there. I wanted his perspective. How do single parents do it?? Not just tending to their children & the efforts that requires, but just knowing what to do. Sometimes, no, frequently, it takes the both of us to solve a problem with this child!

The truth is that we don´t have the discipline-thing figured out at all. So, Baby Zus will come around next month, turn our world upside down, and we still won´t even know how to parent her older sister!

I have figured out this much, though: the key is recognizing what you´re dealing with, identifying the cause of the problem. Duh. No, really. So, it comes to this: my daughter is almost 2, and though she still has plenty of needs, it is her will that takes the wheel most of the time. She is want-driven. She may be really young, but she is also really clever: she knows that she has a lot of power over her smitten parents! That´s what I had to tell myself last night, while I was torn between holding her and letting her go. And, magically, once I put the proper boundaries in place (ex. leaving her with her tantrum, because it was just out of place), she gave up and went to sleep.

From our experience with Ari, we have come to the conclusion that, from time to time, children just need some space. "In hun eigen soepje gaarkoken" ("to cook in their own soup").
Obviously, I don´t mean that we should ignore their cries. Not at all. But I think the following method may be effective and beneficial:

1). Attend: respond to the crying.
2). Identify the cause of the problem: need versus want.
3). Solve: make the problem go away!
need- deal with the issue: change the diaper, offer the drink, comfort & calm, etc.
want- set the boundaries: night-time is NOT the time to play. Explain & Walk Away.

So, once we have made sure that Ari´s needs are met, we explain that it is time to sleep, we put on her star-music, rub her back, and we walk away. It´s so easy to think that they want/need us to fix everything for them. They do when they´re babies, of course. I never walked away when Ari was a baby. But sometimes, at this stage, it´s a matter of showing her that she can solve some of her own problems. And then, she does. And it´s faster & easier that way.

Last night, Ari definitely needed to be left alone with her frustration. I say that, because her response to it was so clear: she calmed down almost immediately after I left her.
I might have thought that holding was the best way to help; but while I held her, she just kicked and screamed. I was only aggravating the problem.

Anyway, it was a challenging ordeal. It took me a long time to fall back asleep afterwards.

I am so desperate to be the right parent for Ari. To figure it out with her. But it is such a painful process, sometimes.
It overwhelms me, then, to think of caring for a second child while I am still such a novice at dealing with Ari´s phases & stages. Wish us luck, people. We´ll need it.

This is such the mother-blog. That was not my intention. But it seems to be all I can think about these days.

p.s. I made a scrumptious Endive Salad last night. Reminded me of Holland.

What if it´s True?

When I am not pondering the joys and difficulties of grand motherhood, I read up on conspiracy-theories, just for fun.

(*digression: I am also considering a way to eliminate the 3 flies that have been hovering above the keyboard for the last 3 days, buzzing, and squatting, uninvited, on my hands.)

So, you may not want to indulge my paranoias too much by sending me this type of stuff. It will get my brain-juices flowing, with all of its consequences (namely, annoying rants).


And another interesting one, by a Spanish nun & expert in the field.. (For some reason, nuns always do seem to be rather sensible & credible sources :-))

CAMPANAS POR LA GRIPE A from ALISH on Vimeo.

No, it is foolish, really. I sat through these videos, and subsequently felt the urge to warn everyone I know by posting this entry, among other things.
(Regardless of Daniel´s skepticism) I mean, my husband does his part.... he tries to put things in perspective for me (when I seem incapable of rational thought), but I can´t help but buy into conspiracy-theories.

So, you were expecting another story about Pacifier-weaning, or some anecdote that is only really interesting to mothers, and you get THIS! *consider yourselves lucky not to be married to me: Daniel is a VERY patient guy & he has so much of this to put up with. And then he has the lovely task of trying to redirect my focus. so, while you can just click this tedious mess away, he gets the whole speech when he comes home from work..... or, worse, over the phone while on a break from work!

First, I felt the Swine-Flu fear incited by the media. I was all, "I need to get myself a mask, find a cave or something for quarantine....NOW!" Then, we presumably got the wretched flu (though untested), I wore the mask for 10 hours, and recovered, sort of. We´re all still coughing, but it has all been unexpectedly mild.

Then (this morning), I heard the other side of the story, and felt alarm of another kind. Alarm on a greater scale. If it were just a bunch of crazy hippies, maybe I´d be more reluctant to accept their theories; but here you´ve got educated people.... explaining with great detail that there is much to fear. Corruption and Bio-terrorism. The creepy stuff that you see in those futuristic movies (think Clive Owen in "Children of Men", for instance, or that one about the punks in some abandoned part of Scotland)... Get the picture? Those movies that disturb you for an hour and a half..... but then you remind yourself that this is not the future, that all of that sensationalism is out of place, at least, for now.

And I remembered the Louis Theroux episode about the Survivalists... a group of crazies somewhere up in Idaho (the "safest" part of the world, apparently), who are quite convinced that the New World Order is imminent.... and they´re prepared to defend themselves, and they´re not looking for trouble, just staying alert.
I might be laughing when I watch those interviews, but, secretly, I understand them. And I think, for just a little while, that maybe the rest of us are really crazy, for not going underground ourselves.

So, what do you (sensible ones!) think of it??? Is it time for a non-violent revolution??

Mean

I disappoint myself.

For some reason, (I am guessing a combination of hormones that are a little out of whack & just the loneliness that sometimes comes with being a full-time home-dweller) I have been irritable lately.
Snappy, moody, unpleasant. Arianna is having to live through all of this craziness. She is with me ALL the time, and she probably knows me a lot better than most by now.
She knows how fun I can be; how enthusiastic & silly I am....most of the time. Really, I am pretty upbeat: I do a lot of singing and clapping, and drama (the cheerful kind) is very much a part of my days with my daughter. For the entire first year and a half of Ari´s life I have been a cheerleader.

Well, I have gotten a little tired of cheering. I still have the world to be ecstatic about: the cutest and most amusing child, for one thing. But I´ve grown weary of being a perfect companion.
Most of the day, I want to just take a nap. And another nap. I am tired. Ari isn´t tired at all. She runs around, she greets the world with enthusiasm each morning and looks for adventure in every corner of this crowded house. I can´t keep up with her. She hands me toys & make-belief toys and relies on me for entertainment. I oblige her as much as I can: point at a picture of the moon in one of her books and say in a silly high-pitched voice, "O, kijk, de maan! Wat MOOI!" ("oh, look, the moon! How BEAUTIFUL!"). And then she wants me to read the book again, or to put the puzzle pieces in their place for the 6th time. And my voice drops. Sometimes I´m so wretched I even sigh. And she says, "Mama is moe,"("Mama is tired) with such sweet consideration and concern, and I want to cry because she is so so friendly and I can be such a lifeless cow. (I kind of miss feeling like the funnest Mama on the planet.....)

And sometimes....more regularly than I would like to admit.....I just snap. Ari´s a dear, but she is also very much in her toddler-teens. She does the wrong things ALL the time, and intentionally. She´ll give me a sideway-glance, with a very wicked little twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and then she´ll reach for the computer, or the television. Or the kitchen-cabinets.
She knows exactly what is allowed and what is not. We´ve made it pretty clear. And then she defies us by, say, taking the keys off our laptop keyboard. It´s exhausting.
I used to deal with it quite well, if I may say so myself. I´d correct her consistently and calmly, and much according to the pedagogical protocol. But lately, I´ve been so irritable. Instead of sitting on the floor with her to correct her gently, I´ve been snatching the headphones (or other "stolen" items) out of her hands, yelling "NEE, Ari! Dat mag niet!" ("No, Ari! That´s not allowed!"). And it startles her from time to time. Then I feel like the worst mother on the planet, and I apologize to her, and I explain that Mama just wants her to listen.

It is so awful to see her responses to my impatience. I don´t want to be intimidating. I want to be predictable and calm and fair. She deserves that much. I did so well for a while: really, I applaud myself for the first year and something. It was almost effortless. But now I catch myself a little too late, when Ari has already dropped whatever naughty thing she was doing, and looks at me in shock. And then I hold her and apologize for being too strict, for snapping.

Snap, snap, snap.

There´s little room for excuses here, but I do think it would help if I could get away. Just for a few hours. I would never have dreamed of saying something so selfish a year ago, but things are different now. Every other week or so, it would be kind of nice to have a few hours to myself. Refueling-time. To drop the Mama-role for just a short while, and think about things completely unrelated to my child(ren). Right now, I am not even sure I´m capable of it: of switching my brain off to that overarching part of my existence. Is there anything else?
Having said that, I would probably start missing Ari after the first hour. It´s just the feeling that I can´t do anything, that I can´t just get away, phase out for a little while. That makes me feel a little, well, out of breath, from time to time.

*Now I understand those working-mothers who explain that having a job allows them to be better parents: to be more dedicated when they do spend time with their children. I used to scoff at that argument, but it´s starting to make a whole lot of sense...*

Daniel usually comes home from work at 7ish or 8ish, and only has time to help feed her supper and put her to bed. It would be ideal if we could balance that part of family-life out a little more.
And most people (friends&relatives) are too busy with lives and/or children of their own to mind our toddler. So, it´s just me and Ari....every day.

I do know I will miss it: the togetherness. Even with the arrival of Baby-zus. I´ll miss the closeness that I have with Ari. But sometimes closeness is a little overwhelming.

Whatever. This was just a rant about my irritability....about how it has really shocked me of late. And how I never thought I could be mean to Ari.

Cold Turkey

We´ve finally done it.... we´ve gotten Ari started on Pacifier-rehab.

This has been long overdue: we had intended to take the pacifier away at 9 months or so. But, as with so many other things, convenience has been getting the final word.
(that´s where it started: 3 months old)
Until last night. Daniel and I have noticed a gap between the upper-and lower-rows of Ari´s teeth, and we said, "okay, it´s time." We knew it would be agonizing, for all of us.

The pacifier, "pacy," or "tut," has served its purpose, alongside Bunnydog and Ari´s nature-sound machine. She has been a phenomenal sleeper and I think this has been due, in part, to these "helpers". Every night, every naptime, Ari would lay down, ask for "tut" & Bunnydog, the stars (projected onto her wall by the sound-machine) and that was that. It was part of the predictability and stability that she needed to fall asleep by herself.

We never really considered the pacifier to be a particularly disturbing habit in Ari´s case.
It was always just a part of the bedtime-routine: we´ve never allowed her to walk around with it, or to have it whilst playing or anything. In fact, we´ve hardly ever used it to calm her or comfort her.
So, at least breaking this habit would just be a matter of adjusting the bedtime-routine. We don´t have to deal with pacy-requests at any other time.

Anyhow, last night was part 1. I had already told her earlier in the day (when putting her to bed for a nap) that she would not have her "tut" again at bedtime. There´s only so much a toddler can remember and understand from such a statement, but I felt the need to prepare her somehow. So, last night, at 20:00 (bedtime), Daniel and I started the bedtime-routine: we washed her hands and face, brushed her teeth, read her a story, sang some songs, and put her in her sleeping-bag. Then, we handed Bunnydog to her (upon request, as usual), and said again, "You´re a big girl now. You can fall asleep without your pacy. The tut is for baby-zus."
It seemed rather ridiculous to be trying to convince her that this was just logic: that this is how life works when you´re no longer a baby. And even sillier to say that the pacifier belonged to her unborn baby-sister. But that´s how it came out, and Ari said, "ja," as though it made all the sense in the world, and then she even smiled.
Of course, twenty seconds later, she asked for "tut" anyway, as though the whole discussion had been a mere illustration, or a scare-tactic. So the drama started. It didn´t help at all that the nature-sound & star machine was out of batteries..... I immediately headed out to our Chinese neighborhood-store to buy some. Daniel went back to put on the sounds for her and to tell her she could just look at the stars & that she could sleep without her "tut". We repeated this about 4 or 5 times. It involved a lot of tears, a lot of crying & whining & begging. Eventually, she did fall asleep and stay asleep until morning.

I fear we´ll be going through the same thing again at nap-time, and then again at night. She won´t remember anything we´ve explained about how grown-up she is (or especially about the part where she agreed so enthusiastically). She´ll want her pacy, as usual.

So it will go for a few days, I reckon. And we´ll have to stick to what we´ve started. It is so much easier to just give her the darn thing and go to sleep. But we´ve fallen for that before. And that´s what makes the months and years go by. And then you´ve got bad teeth. Oh, and a child who gets what she wants instead of what she needs. So, we´re not going to go there.
Change hurts. Even parents suffer through these phases. We might know we´re doing what´s best for our children, but it hurts.....their tears cut through us.

There we go: another dramatic account of life with a toddler. It all becomes such a huge issue: this is the stuff of my days. It may sound very silly and trivial, but these are issues that have to be thought through, planned out, and lived through. They are experiments & experiences that shape our parenting.

P.S. It has taken us nearly two years to actually do this, and we´ve used none of the tactics we considered. There was no replacement-gift: no ritualistic throwing-away of all the old pacifiers... no sewing them into a new stuffed animal. Nothing. Just a bunch of words.

Forgotten

I am losing what I´ve learned. That´s what it feels like: loss. I often pick up my old school-books, to browse through old notes, to keep my mind awake to the words I used to study, to that other world that I had started to explore.

Yesterday, I had a big volume of 20th century British and Irish poetry on my lap. I stared at it for a while, read through various pages of T.S.Eliot´s poetry, reviewed the introductions and felt.......blah. At first, I inspected every word, read through the footnotes. But then, after about half an hour of intense concentration, I realized that it was useless. I was useless. I had nothing left to say or think about the words on those pages.

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas"
and my notes.... ¨the climax of the poem¨ Why? What did I have to say about it? ¨Fear of castration,¨ elsewhere...but why? Where did I get that?

And that was just "The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock"-perhaps the most widely studied poem in the English language. The margins of "The Waste Land" were fuller still. More scribbles: allusions to other literature, literary terms, speculations.
Take that silly grin off your face: ´tis no lasting accomplishment!

Few things are more depressing than realizing that you´ve forgotten what you´ve learned. And the futility of trying to recover it. As a student, I was aware of my limitations: I knew that I could only try to capture a tiny corner of all of that knowledge, all those facts and the beauty and poetry of words. But now... just a few years later after celebrating some sort of a completion (however fractured!) of that learning, I have lost my grasp almost completely. It´s not just forgetting what the words mean: it´s forgetting how to figure out what they´re there for.

I am so desperate to recover the enthusiasm; to dive back into the deep, deep pool of literary studies. So, I brush the dust off the books, I take them off the shelves, and for a few short minutes I am hopeful....... fooled into thinking that there is something there that will spark my memory, that will make it all "click". And then the words become a blur and my eyes & mind start to hurt. And my heart hurts more, still. I mourn the loss of what I knew once, of what I discovered. While I studied, I knew I´d never know quite enough.
But now...even the simpler poems are riddles...and that stings. It stings, because it´s about more than discovering some of the endless rest of it; it´s about recovering some sense of the beginning.. of the top layers.

The years have dried out my brain. I had hopes of just picking up where I left off..... but now I fear I must start from scratch. And when I get somewhere, when I have gained enough of an understanding to call myself a scholar, at least, then I must find a way to hold onto it. To keep the thoughts alive, to remember what the words meant.

Mama knows Best.....Right??

Sometimes I would rather let other people make the decisions. Sometimes Mama knows nothing at all.

I ask God for wisdom all the time.....and rarely feel like I receive it.

Take the other night, for instance. Arianna was miserable and sick, and very difficult to care for. She didn´t know what she wanted, she asked for food she refused to eat, for drinks she refused to even take one sip of. All she wanted was to sit with Mama; "Mama zitten, Mama zitten!".
So, I took her out of her crib and let her sit with me. She was so feverish, so pathetic. I wanted to fix it for her. When she asked for "pap" (papillas/liquid cereal) in the middle of the night, I went down to the kitchen to make it for her. Countless times. Then, out of breath and back upstairs, I would offer it to her only to get it pushed into my face. That, and kicks, and screams. Well, Daniel put an end to it, and I just cried.

All I could see was my little suffering Ari. All the screaming & kicking & refusing food.... I thought, "whatever....she´s upset...poor baby!!" Bathing was another huge drama: it has been for weeks. She used to love baths and now she dreads it: she fights with all her might to get out of it. (for reasons related to poo, methinks... because she accidentally pooped in there twice over and was quite alarmed by it). My approach is more indulging: I try to avoid the conflict, to appease her.
Daniel, however, told me that this was nothing but manipulation on the part of little Aribou: will-power and temper-tantrums. He said I could only see a poor little lamb, while she was acting out her toddler-terrors. My answer, "but she´s sick, Daniel!!"
He said we needed to put an end to it, before establishing bad patterns. And he may have been right. So, the next time she asked for "pap", we denied her. I felt like yelling at Daniel, telling him he was being cruel. We left her in her crib, crying and protesting. I cried on the staircase. It seemed so wrong. But her cries stopped after a few short minutes.....and when we came back to check on her later, she was fast asleep. Moreover, she slept more soundly that night than any of the other flu-nights before it.

So, what is the right approach? I think Daniel is the stricter parent. I can be very stern with Ari, but this is mostly related to "danger": so, when she does something dangerous (like playing too close to the oven), I often snap at her and pull her away. In other areas, I give in to her demands quite often. So, if she wakes up repeatedly and decides that she wants to sit with me for a while, I go to her and take her out of bed.

Sometimes, I choose the easy, short-term solution: if holding her makes her happy, I hold her. It is a type of conditioning and it is not always the wisest approach. It´s easier than setting boundaries. But boundaries are often necessary.

That´s one of the lessons motherhood has taught me in these two years: sometimes doing what´s best & beneficial to our children doesn´t feel right. Sometimes, it´s the hardest choice. But then we see her face a little bit later, and we know we´ve done the right thing. Or we see that.....suddenly.......she does eat her meals, she does go to sleep without complaint. And it makes everything better for everyone.

All this just to say that I feel so stupid, so unsure, all the time. And I just want to do things the right way. There are things, aspects of parenting, that I am very confident in. But other situations make me feel clueless. Toddlerhood, in general. How to deal with cute kids who behave badly? That´s harder than waking up every 4 hours to feed a newborn. How to be consistent & fair? This is no piece of cake, I tell you.

The Mask and other Unpleasantries

The flu has hit us, too. Daniel, Ari, and I left our village-house in order to escape from the flu. Our house-mate was sniffly and sickly, and we figured it would be foolish to stay there. All in vain, or too late, anyhow, because we woke up on Saturday morning with a horrid case of the flu. All three of us. Chills, fevers, body-aches, coughs. All that good stuff.

I am just going to tell you the whole story. Take it or leave it.

I got my achy & sweaty self into the car and drove to the emergency-section of the local hospital.. A doctor's visit would have been easier, but that was not an option on a Saturday. At the hospital, I was swiftly directed to the labor & delivery-floor. Not for my own labor, of course, but for the routine check-ups necessary for pregnant flu-patients. They handed me a mask, scoffing and fussing, because I had not been given one before. It was the start of a LONG and lousy day of check-ups, waiting, blood-analyses, and more waiting. I told them about the aches, the chills, and the wheezy coughs... and they took my temperature. Then, I was sent out into the old and unfriendly hallway. Mask and all. Everyone stared at me: some with looks of pity, but most with the expected dread of, "ew....there's the flu....she better keep her distance!".

No comfy chairs, no magazines, no water fountain. It was two thirty in the afternoon (14:30), and I had no idea they would keep me there all day.

Most of the people there were waiting to meet their newborn children, cousins, godchildren. It was strange to be in the place where I would have to give birth to my own baby just 2 months from now. I didn't like it. I didn't like seeing the fathers outside in the hallway. That's not where they were supposed to be. Call me fussy, or picky, or difficult...but I didn't like anything about the hospital and its employees. I wanted to go back to the daisy-room where Ari first breathed and cried and greeted us. With my sister to do the caring and checking-up.

Anyway, they called me back in and put me on the baby-monitor. This involves laying on a bed for half an hour with two big elastic bands around the belly, which keep a heart-beat monitoring device in place. There it was: the loud beating of my daugther's heart.
I was parched. The nurse only came in to check on me once or twice, and I finally asked her for some water.

Having finished that procedure, they sent me down for blood-tests and a doctor's check-up. That was worse, still. Not allowed to sit in the triage-section, I crept into a little cold corner of the hallway, sat on the floor and wondered if I was in the right place at all. Apparently, I was supposed to be in the waiting-room for relatives, but how was I supposed to know??
They don't tell you anything.

So, after a lot of waiting and sighing and sweating underneath my flu-mask, I got called in for blood-tests. They pinched me, mixed my blood with different fluids, and told me to wait for the results.
The doctor checked my lungs, my throat, my temperature, and told me that I would need to make a decision: she wanted to do an X-ray to see if I had pneumonia or some other lung-problem, but she would need my consent for this. Not what I wanted to hear. In tears, I called Daniel and told him that I just didn't know what to do. I asked him to get in touch with my sister, to ask for her opinion. There we were, all of us on the phone together, sort of: he skyped my parents, who happened to be on the phone with my sister already (blessed coincidence). She gave me the go-ahead: told me that they would need to protect my belly as well as they could, but that it was important to see if anything was wrong.. And that the risks were lower, as I was already this far along. I still felt miserable: I didn't like having to be the one to consent to something that could potentially harm my child. But I signed the form.

Meanwhile, the blood-results were back, and they put me on a drip with some sort of liquid: to boost my electrolyte-levels, as, apparently, they were much too low. (electrolyte-levels, as in minerals and salts...potassium,etc.) I rolled my eyes and thought, "DUH, idiots! I haven't had anything to eat or drink since this morning....."
Then I was rolled to the X-ray room by a particularly bitchy nurse. Excuse my language, but there was nothing nice about her. She looked like she was about 20 years old, and she was the worst kind of rude. And asking, "but you're pregnant, why are you getting an X-ray?? Don't you know how dangerous that is??" I wanted to punch her in the face. I was still on that drip, and the X-ray technician (friendlier than the nurse, thankfully) helped me as I struggled to get my long-sleeve shirt & everything else off, with the drip-tube (wire, hose???) attached to my arm. It nearly pulled the whole thing out, and my blood was running into the tube. She put several protective "shields" in front of my belly and back. Said I was well-covered. That was that.
They pushed me back to the drip-waiting room in a wheelchair. I wore a hospital-robe. It was all very "ER".

The drip was removed, but I'd need more blood-tests. So, they pinched me twice more. Once in my wrist, leaving it all bruised. Then in my other arm. Tubes and tubes of blood. Just to see if I was okay.

Apparently, the drip fixed my electrolyte-level, and the doctor finally released me to go back to the labor&delivery-department. The X-ray results were good, too. No lung-problems, then.
It was midnight! No one had offered me a meal or a drink or anything that a pregnant woman might need after 10 hours of being pinched. I had to get a bag of almonds from the vending-machine. Thank you very much. So, back to the baby-monitor. A hyper male midwife hooked me back onto the monitor, and asked how far along I was. He touched my belly and said the baby seemed small for her age. The ultrasounds have shown no such thing, though.
Anyway, the monitor started to make loud sounds, and the nurses came in to see what was wrong. I said, "she's kicking a lot." They stood there and looked at the reading of the heart-beat and noticed the noises were rhythmic: Baby just had the hiccups.

Got into the car at 12:40 (AM!), mask still in place, all gross and warm. They let me go without any definitive answers regarding my flu. I asked them, "so, is this the swine-flu??" And the doctor just said it could very well be, but that it was unnecessary to actually test me for that. So, for all the blood they took from me, they couldn't go ahead and screen me for the virus. Too much of a hassle, too expensive. Apparently, my symptoms were not alarming enough. No, but they thought it necessary to keep me at the hospital all day!! Weird, WEIRD system.

Spaniards have a tendency to be alarmists when it comes to disease... Antibiotics are prescribed for the most insignificant malaise. But then the doctors can be so useless. They give you no information unless you insist on receiving some very clear answers. Usually, they just send you home with more questions.

In my experience with prenatal check-ups, especially, I have been so frustrated. They would check the most irrelevant things and leave the more important matters unanswered/unevaluated. For instance, they always make a huge deal about how much weight I have gained, but then they've only checked the size of my belly/uterus once!! I'd understand the obsession with the weight-gain if I were obese, but COME ON! How about my baby's growth, huh??? HUH?!?!?!?!
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So, we've all been lounging around Daniel's parents' house (infecting them, doubtlessly :-( ), trying to keep the fevers down with the usual remedies. Ari had high fevers several days in a row, but I was not about to send her to the emergency-room again. (I already took her to the doctor on Friday...which kept us for only 4 hours). No, not after what they did to me. That sounds really dramatic, maybe, but it's just not worth waiting for HOURS only to be told to "drink plenty of liquids and take paracetamol". No, we could have figured that one out for ourselves! And hospital waiting-rooms are full of very sick people. With germs. Without masks.

Sickish

The child is sick. Poor baby. Whereas she usually remains active & cheerful during fevers, Ari is having a lousy day today. She is flu-ish and doesn´t know what to do with herself. Likewise, I don´t know what to do with her. "A yoghurt, Ari? Some orange juice?" She just answers, "yes, no, yes, no"... crying and fussing and suffering in the meantime. At one point, she just wanted to sleep. She is slow and miserable today...and so am I.

I would wish it upon myself, rather than watching her fight a fever and a flu... But then I remember that I have another daughter, hiding in there. So, it´s not like I wish a flu upon her.

I finally suggested that Ari help me make some fresh Orange Juice, and she accepted. She even agreed to drink a cupful of it.

We have a house full of sick people, so I suppose it was to be expected. Probably the swine flu, which is no big deal, in general, but is more alarming for those of us who are pregnant and/or young.

Just wish I knew when to take her to a doctor. Whenever I do take her to the doctor, it ends up being a waste of time. I just need to know what is harmless and what is not.

Apart from that, Fall´s arrival has been most welcome. I baked a Pumpkin Bread several days ago to celebrate.

I think you´re crazy......baby

I had the strangest outburst of emotions yesterday, at the strangest and most inconvenient place, namely, the grocery store.

Daniel and I borrowed his parents´car to stock up on groceries. It must have started there: manoeuvering a stick-shift again after 3 months of automatic (& simple) driving was rather unnerving. I had to remind myself that I did pass the test and that I shouldn´t be so nervous, but I was.

So. We arrived at the store and loaded up the cart. Then, I had to use the store´s restroom (thank goodness they had one). Well, Daniel summoned me, because I still had his wallet in my purse, and he was already checking out. For some odd reason, this made me burst out with laughter. I quickly ran to the check-out counter, where a bunch of waiting customers were about to witness the most embarassing display of nervous hilarity. First, I giggled. Daniel gave me one of those, "is everything alright up there (in your head)?" stares. Then, I started to snort....once....twice...and again. All the while, I laughed so loudly and so uncontrolledly. We paid & got out of there. Then, having put everything in the car, I started to cry. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was a mess. An emotional mess. I sat there, at the steering wheel, and sobbed... and felt so embarassed. Humiliated. It had been such a strange experience.
Granted, I have always had trouble controlling my laughter. But this time, there was nothing to really spur it on. It just happened. And I could do nothing about it. I must have seemed drunk, or high, or just completely insane. Daniel was rather gracious, thankfully. He could have gotten terribly angry for being humiliated like that, for having to stand by and watch as his wife lost her mind for a while, but he just told me to take a deep breath. I did... and the tears stopped, after a while.

(Thankfully, Ari wasn´t there to see me lose my mind. She was busy playing with playdough at grandma & grandpa´s house.)

It must have been the most dramatic of my emotional outbursts: the most extreme & spontaneous. But, as Daniel said, tears&laughter are linked...they´re so close together. I am going to blame it on the pregnancy. Sure, I am always a bit silly....but I think this was hormonal. Crazy hormones. They´ve been especially crazy this time around....

Baby Shower, Shadows, and Some Other Things...

On Saturday, October 10th, Allyson and my mother-in-law threw me a Baby Shower in the form of a Brunch. I am fond of brunches, and was delighted that Daniel, Ari, and I were going to have one with his family. I made a Coffee Cake to share. Then we got to my in-laws´house, and voila, it was no ordinary brunch. It was a Baby Shower! I knew it would happen at some point, because Allyson is so very thoughtful and organizes parties and surprises for people. I knew she would organize something for me this time around,too. Of course, I didn´t know that she had been all sneaky and organized this with my mother-in-law.. Daniel was in on it, too. He planned to go to the studio to record some music while the women brunched, but was recruited to take care of the kids, which he does well. It was lovely.
I will post a photo later.

Ari discovered her shadow some days ago. We were at the playground, and she suddenly pointed at her shadow and said, "Anana walking!". She then stared and stared while she walked around and her shadow followed. At first, it was all very intriguing & fun. Then, she became a little frightful, because it just wouldn´t leave her alone! She tried to outrun it, to step to the side and leave it behind, but nothing worked, of course...to her frustration.

Me&Belly, at 31 weeks...

Today marks 32 completed weeks of pregnancy. Where has the time gone? Two more months, and the belly will go, leaving me with a brandnew baby daughter. It is a strange thing, losing that belly. Part of me will grieve its loss. No, the walking like a duck can go.... so can the pelvic pains, the itchy skin. But I will miss those kicks, the waves underneath my skin. I will miss Ari´s fascination with the belly and the "baby sister" hiding within it. I will miss the friendliness of strangers, who offer me their seats on the metro... who help me with the stroller. The togetherness. The mystery.

But I´ll have my baby girl in my arms.... I´ll see her face and I´ll finally know her. I´ll know what it´s like to have two children, and to love them with equal intensity... and I´ll see how Ari experiences sisterhood. Those are the changes that make everything so beautiful....

Motherhood, Love, and Autumn

Two years into this motherhood-thing, I have discovered that it is very much like courtship. The process of getting to know that person, of falling in love: well, motherhood follows the same pattern. I suppose I speak for myself, but I think most people might experience it in much the same way.
When I was pregnant with Ari, I started to dream of her, of what it would be like to have her in my life. It resembles the first cycle of courtship, then. Curiosity and idealism toward that new special person, who is still mysterious and unknown.
Then, at birth (or the beginning of the actual courtship, to further my illustration), that person is there, in the middle of your world. It's love and thrill and adventure: discovery and enlightenment, and feeling completely enthralled by the closeness with that other being, and...mostly...complete. That is what it felt like to meet my Ari. It felt so similar to starting my relationship with Daniel. It becomes enough....for a while, anyhow.

You see, then the months and the years go by, and the sparkle and newness of having that bond with another person becomes a little bit less magical. It doesn't go away completely: it's not falling out of love, but the bubble bursts a little bit. Not because you lose your capacity to love with such enthusiasm, but rather because you start to realize that there is more to being "complete". More than finding oneself in another person.

This is all so melodramatic, again... It is such an easy mood for me to fall into.
This isn't a sad declaration of disillusionment at all. I am still so glad to be a mother, so fond of my babies, and still so content with my marriage-relationship. But there is the need to find contentment within my own self, too. See, I love so easily. I get inspired and become so intensely alive at times. Other people (my children, my husband, my family & friends) have that effect on me. But the feeling wears off. And then you wonder if there is anything else in the world at all to be so content with.

All this drama to say that it has been an interesting wake-up call. One that I didn't really expect. Two years after becoming a full-time mother, I feel the curiosity to know what else is out there. At the same time, I expect I will go through the same infatuation-phase with my new baby: I'll be so consumed by that post-partum buzz.... (that's right, I never suffered from the common baby-blues.... on the contrary) It might last for a year or so. And then I'll be back where I am today. And I'll be forced to find something else to pour myself into. Work, I guess. Or some creative outlet.
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We're in the middle of October and the weather is just not cooperating. It's freezing and snowing in the North of Europe, as it should, as fits the season. The skies of Spain just can't seem to make up their mind. I've started to put on Christmas-music, much to Daniel's annoyance and disapproval, but it hasn't been very effective. I'm eager to pull out a scarf, to turn the lights on in the early afternoon.. Instead, I still have to lower the blinds to block out the sun. Sick and wrong!
This is what GRAND AUTUMN is supposed to look like:

This, too:

Sometimes I wish I could change the soundtrack of my own mind. Play a new tune. Something a little jazzier.

Envy & Options

My favorite TV programs are those in which a camera-crew follows expats around in their new habitats: usually countries far away from their motherland. I say "programs," because there are many, in Spain & Holland & elsewhere, and they all have the same effect: they inspire me to be more adventurous, to dream of starting afresh. As I watch, I become both hopeful and utterly depressed.... at once. I envy those Madrileños as they give the camera-crew a tour around Edinburgh, or Stockholm, or Auckland, or Seattle; all the places I have considered potential homes for me, Daniel, & the girls. I fuss, "Darn! why are they there & why are we still here, walking down the same old streets??"

Nothing is wrong with Madrid. On the contrary, it is a beautiful city, full of life. We have been happy here for many years and we will never quite lose our attachment to this city and this country. But there is the itch. The itch that I mention in almost every other post. Sometimes I fear that life will be incomplete if we settle. If we stay put. The dread, the fear of losing the chances of trying life out in another context. Having children (2 children!ah!) complicates it all, but I never really put that dream aside. Every few days, the subject comes up in our conversations, and Daniel (more pragmatic by the day) usually puts an end to it. Not now. Let´s just stick with the plan; Holland is next. And I was happy with that plan. It seems thrilling, even. But it is familiar. It is not as adventurous as venturing into a new continent. And I seem to think that nothing so "normal" is really good enough.

The topic of emigration comes up whenever Daniel & I visit my family. The discussion takes on different forms depending on the family we´re with:
*My parents understand the feeling... they´ve been in that place. In fact, they were VERY close to actually moving to New Zealand as newlyweds, only to let the "family-factor" change their minds. and, let´s be honest, 30 years ago, such a move would have been much more permanent. Anyhow, as much as they can sympathize with us, they are always a lot more excited about the idea of our return to Holland (for all the obvious reasons).
*My sister & bro-in-law are quite settled. They have done their share of traveling, as well, but they live without all that restlessness that comes with thinking that the grass is greener on the other side....and, sometimes I really wish I felt the same. To be content with the here and the now. To be practical.
*My brother & sis-in-law sometimes dream of moving, too. Hence, we always ask them whether they´ve made up their minds, whether they feel more at ease with the settled life.. and I think they struggle with the same uncertainty.

So, it turns out that this is not such a strange phenomenon. Apparently many 20-and-30-something-year-olds struggle with this dilemma. Wanting something more, something different, out of life, and not knowing exactly what or where that might be. This is probably the very feeling that those TV-programs are designed to tap into.

It is very much a problem of options. A problem, right. Our generation has a luxury-problem: too many options are available to us, making the decision-process all the more tedious. Of course, this problem is magnified for multiculturalists, TCKs, or whatever you want to call those of us who have grown up between cultures.
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There you have it: the familiar rant. Just letting you know that this issue is still very much on my mind. My heart is heavy with the burden of it, of not knowing what I want.. Of knowing that I want adventure, but not knowing what shape that adventure should take.

Clearly, I have yet to learn the art of concise writing. Maybe I should focus my energies on perfecting this art, or on developing some particular skill. Part of my problem is that I am frustrated by aimlessness, and by not knowing whether there is any specific potential that I need to explore in order to reach that wonderful state called fulfillment.

And, finally, I am curious........do any of you know what will get you there?? Or are you already content with what you´ve achieved & where you´ve planted yourselves??