Let me know if this has ever happened to you:
One week ago, on Tuesday night, I had a 39 degree C fever and could not fall asleep. I tossed and turned, but my mind was racing and I could not sleep, despite the fact that I had not slept more than an hour or two in the days before. I wanted to close my eyes and rest, but instead I came up with a master-plan for my life. I had the most peculiar sense of inspiration and productivity.
Everything became perfectly clear in my mind: I thought of all the details that would need to fall into place for my plan to work... I wrote pages and pages (still, in my head), my sentences were concise & clever. It all made sense, and for the first time in ages I felt like I had a goal to work toward. I even "wrote" a letter to one of my old university professors to ask for advice regarding my plan. I made a list of "To-Do´s" and "To Discuss". It gave me such a rush; to be so goal-oriented, for once in my life. To feel so gloriously inspired. It seemed like I finally had found the purpose I had been looking for: and (more importantly) the confidence to pursue it.
At one point, I considered going downstairs to get started. To write it all out in detail: to take advantage of that rare moment of inspiration. But Daniel would have gotten on my case. In fact, he was telling me to just go to sleep all along. And I should have. But hours passed, and I was still working on the book in my mind. Constructing proper sentences & making connections. I figured it would all still be there in the morning. In my head.
I was wrong.
In fact, I woke up feeling completely disillusioned. I didn´t remember any of my sentences: not even the witty ones! No longer inspired in the least, I nevertheless tried to tell Daniel all about my Master Plan and realized (in the midst of my explanation) that it was not so fabulous at all & that I would probably never work it out. And that is where I am today. Wondering what has happened to all my Master Plans... where have all those perfect ideas gone?
Perhaps I was hallucinating: a high fever and sleep-deprivation will do that to you.
What makes me sad is not so much the fact that I´ve forgotten all those excellent little details of my plan...but that I give up on the Plan completely. Every time.
I waver between these extremes: Inspiration and Disillusionment. Idealism and Pessimism. Dilligence and Lethargy. How is that going to get me anywhere? If I can´t hold on to that particular thought.. if I can´t remember why I thought I could make something work in the first place.
(excuse me for sounding just a tad melancholic).
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Just the Four of Us....
Why´d we have to go and make things so complicated???? just kidding. I am so excited to have two daughters. I am also very tired.
Life has gotten a lot more hectic around these parts. Daniel started back at work today, and I am sitting in a room full of laundry. Clean laundry here, dirty laundry upstairs, a washing-machine working on load number 258. If only I had a laundry-room to hide that mess!
How am I going to keep up with it? Not just with the clothes... No, with every aspect of life. I just put the girls down for naps and it feels like I haven´t accomplished anything at all. Few things are more dreadful (at least when it concerns the domestic sphere).
Time Management: I was finally starting to get things organized (before Anika was born). Overall, the house was still a bit of a disaster, but I at least managed to keep the bed- and bath-rooms clean & tidy. It was so rewarding to look around and not to see piles of junk all over the floor. Not to notice a layer of dust on every surface.
Now, on the contrary, I can hardly move an inch without stepping on something. It makes me so nervous. But here is the problem: when the girls are fed and asleep (in other words, my window of opportunity!), I can choose to do one of the following (two, if I´m lucky & particularly efficient):
*Get showered & dressed
*Eat whichever meal is due
*Take a nap
*Clean
*Cook
*Relax
That´s it. And, as you might guess, I often choose the last. Why? Shouldn´t I at least have the decency to brush my hair and put on a clean pair of socks?? Well, I should, but that hour of "nothing", of sitting in front of the computer, helps me to feel ever so slightly connected to the outside world. And that beats personal hygiene- it just does.
But it´s a tough choice. I would LOVE to take a nap. I´d also really love to sort through those piles and clean the bathroom..... (the effects of my nesting-syndrome haven´t worn off) But I prefer to talk to y´all instead.
So.....life as a family of four. It´s still sort of unreal to talk about "the kids"...plural. Makes me feel like I should be in my thirties. Arianna is taking the change very well, thankfully, though I notice that it has affected her. Of course it has. Children internalize these drastic changes, and I can tell that Ari hasn´t been sleeping as well lately. She has woken up several times from what seem to be nightmares. She calls out for me and wants to sit with me, but it happens almost exclusively when she wakes up at night. During the day, she goes merrily about her business, playing cheerfully as usual. She doesn´t complain when I hold Baby Zus, nor does she go out of her way to get my attention in those instances.
She is kind to Anika, and seems quite fascinated with her. (and, let´s face it, life is too full of exciting things such as numbers and letters.. who has time to be minding baby-sisters? Just this morning, she enthusiastically shouted "toast is de A de Ari"..so, I looked at the soggy piece on her plate, and, good heavens!, it did indeed resemble an A.)
Anika is still so easy to care for. She eats and sleeps much and well. She does, however, suffer terribly from colic at night. These colic-attacks tend to happen between 11 and 1 at night, and they last long. Poor little thing: her belly becomes like a rock, she kicks her legs frantically, and she screams out in distress. Tears roll down her warm little cheeks. And there is so little I can do to relieve it. I move her legs, I rub her belly, I try to help her get rid of those gases, but it´s tough. And, as the experts say, colic can´t always be remedied. You just have to go through it. Mothers can try to cut out certain things of their diet, or drink special teas, but, in the end, those tiny intestines just need a few months to develop. And some children suffer more as a result of this process than others.
So, the colic has been no fun. Neither has the mastitis, though I am finally getting past that ordeal.
It takes the four of us about 2 hours to get ready to leave the house for any type of outing, and this stresses Mama out. (and I am not saying 2 hours of slowly gathering our things. I mean 2 hours of rushing). Daniel doesn´t get too stressed by this, but then again, stress is just not his thing, and I envy him for his ability to just "stay cool and take a chill pill". I might envy it, but things get pretty tense when I´m trying to get myself (and everybody else!) organized and Daniel sees no need to hurry. Poor Ari has picked up on this (of course), and has been running around saying, "It´s not fair!" (with every bit of the dramatic intonation that I give it) because she´s heard me say that while I complain about not even having time to finish my breakfast.
What do I have to say for myself?? Huh? I act like a total maniac around my daughters sometimes. It´s very frustrating, and I try to make up for it by being really really calm and sweet, but sometimes mothers can´t be helped. Sometimes, we just need to let it out. And I´m pretty sure the kids will get over it eventually.
If I could just get caught up. I just need to get organized. The baby-announcements are designed and ready to be printed: I need to get that dealt with before another week goes by. And that laundry...that dreaded laundry that is filling one side of our closet (towering high above the hamper that holds it).. And the groceries. The meals that need cooking. The bathtub that needs cleaning. The list goes on, and I am so pathetically failing to finish the To-Do´s.
One day at a time, I reckon. As long as I can keep this baby fed & burped, and the other one out of trouble!!!
Life has gotten a lot more hectic around these parts. Daniel started back at work today, and I am sitting in a room full of laundry. Clean laundry here, dirty laundry upstairs, a washing-machine working on load number 258. If only I had a laundry-room to hide that mess!
How am I going to keep up with it? Not just with the clothes... No, with every aspect of life. I just put the girls down for naps and it feels like I haven´t accomplished anything at all. Few things are more dreadful (at least when it concerns the domestic sphere).
Time Management: I was finally starting to get things organized (before Anika was born). Overall, the house was still a bit of a disaster, but I at least managed to keep the bed- and bath-rooms clean & tidy. It was so rewarding to look around and not to see piles of junk all over the floor. Not to notice a layer of dust on every surface.
Now, on the contrary, I can hardly move an inch without stepping on something. It makes me so nervous. But here is the problem: when the girls are fed and asleep (in other words, my window of opportunity!), I can choose to do one of the following (two, if I´m lucky & particularly efficient):
*Get showered & dressed
*Eat whichever meal is due
*Take a nap
*Clean
*Cook
*Relax
That´s it. And, as you might guess, I often choose the last. Why? Shouldn´t I at least have the decency to brush my hair and put on a clean pair of socks?? Well, I should, but that hour of "nothing", of sitting in front of the computer, helps me to feel ever so slightly connected to the outside world. And that beats personal hygiene- it just does.
But it´s a tough choice. I would LOVE to take a nap. I´d also really love to sort through those piles and clean the bathroom..... (the effects of my nesting-syndrome haven´t worn off) But I prefer to talk to y´all instead.
So.....life as a family of four. It´s still sort of unreal to talk about "the kids"...plural. Makes me feel like I should be in my thirties. Arianna is taking the change very well, thankfully, though I notice that it has affected her. Of course it has. Children internalize these drastic changes, and I can tell that Ari hasn´t been sleeping as well lately. She has woken up several times from what seem to be nightmares. She calls out for me and wants to sit with me, but it happens almost exclusively when she wakes up at night. During the day, she goes merrily about her business, playing cheerfully as usual. She doesn´t complain when I hold Baby Zus, nor does she go out of her way to get my attention in those instances.
She is kind to Anika, and seems quite fascinated with her. (and, let´s face it, life is too full of exciting things such as numbers and letters.. who has time to be minding baby-sisters? Just this morning, she enthusiastically shouted "toast is de A de Ari"..so, I looked at the soggy piece on her plate, and, good heavens!, it did indeed resemble an A.)
Anika is still so easy to care for. She eats and sleeps much and well. She does, however, suffer terribly from colic at night. These colic-attacks tend to happen between 11 and 1 at night, and they last long. Poor little thing: her belly becomes like a rock, she kicks her legs frantically, and she screams out in distress. Tears roll down her warm little cheeks. And there is so little I can do to relieve it. I move her legs, I rub her belly, I try to help her get rid of those gases, but it´s tough. And, as the experts say, colic can´t always be remedied. You just have to go through it. Mothers can try to cut out certain things of their diet, or drink special teas, but, in the end, those tiny intestines just need a few months to develop. And some children suffer more as a result of this process than others.
So, the colic has been no fun. Neither has the mastitis, though I am finally getting past that ordeal.
It takes the four of us about 2 hours to get ready to leave the house for any type of outing, and this stresses Mama out. (and I am not saying 2 hours of slowly gathering our things. I mean 2 hours of rushing). Daniel doesn´t get too stressed by this, but then again, stress is just not his thing, and I envy him for his ability to just "stay cool and take a chill pill". I might envy it, but things get pretty tense when I´m trying to get myself (and everybody else!) organized and Daniel sees no need to hurry. Poor Ari has picked up on this (of course), and has been running around saying, "It´s not fair!" (with every bit of the dramatic intonation that I give it) because she´s heard me say that while I complain about not even having time to finish my breakfast.
What do I have to say for myself?? Huh? I act like a total maniac around my daughters sometimes. It´s very frustrating, and I try to make up for it by being really really calm and sweet, but sometimes mothers can´t be helped. Sometimes, we just need to let it out. And I´m pretty sure the kids will get over it eventually.
If I could just get caught up. I just need to get organized. The baby-announcements are designed and ready to be printed: I need to get that dealt with before another week goes by. And that laundry...that dreaded laundry that is filling one side of our closet (towering high above the hamper that holds it).. And the groceries. The meals that need cooking. The bathtub that needs cleaning. The list goes on, and I am so pathetically failing to finish the To-Do´s.
One day at a time, I reckon. As long as I can keep this baby fed & burped, and the other one out of trouble!!!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Birth Post
So, I finally posted the Birth Story. Three weeks after the event. Since I started writing it a while ago, it is posted underneath the other entry, so just scroll down to see it. Warning: it´s a long read.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
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.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
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.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
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
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
Thursday, December 10, 2009
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!
***************************************************************************
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.
**********************************************************************************
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.
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!
***************************************************************************
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.
**********************************************************************************
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.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
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.
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.
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