So Close

Husbands and helping or Paul vs Marko.

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, but it’s not an easy post to write.  Because I don’t want people to judge my husband or I.  I love my husband, he might not be perfect, but he is perfect for me.

So things haven’t turned out exactly as I hoped it might.  Many of you have made comments like ‘where is your husband??’ or ‘what is your husband doing in all of this?’  And I’ve been ignoring them on purpose.

I must admit, I am jealous of Julie, not because she is better looking than me (she isn’t), or because she is more intelligent than me (she isn’t), or even that Charlie is stronger / bigger / faster than Adam (he isn’t).  No I am jealous of Julie because of Paul.  The lucky asshole (that would be Julie) has one of those husbands who are totally involved in the day-to-day care of their child.  He feeds Charlie, he watches him, he even does a shift at night for goodness sake.  I don’t have one of those husbands.  Julie, the lucky tart, has one of those.  And by the sounds of things, a super dooper one at that.  In fact I don’t know what the hell Julie does all day except sit on her lazy fat ass and post nude pictures of her Lionel Richie ‘fro to the “Hairy Beaver” porn site.

My darling husband, whom I love dearly, is just not good with newborns.  Now before you all get up in arms and tell me what a useless fucker he is, let me say that I am ok with this.  Not every one can be good at every thing.  Why force him to do something that makes me him all anxious.  He just can’t handle crying babies, it upsets him. 

Now I can just see you sitting there spluttering in outrage.  “I don’t care if it makes him anxious, he HAS to help” you’ll be saying.  “They are his kids too” will be another.

I know all of these arguments.  I could be saying them too, but I don’t.  Because I know that his time will come, I know that without doubt.  He loves his kids, very much. When they are a bit sturdier he will be more involved.  He will spend lots of time with them then. 

He helps me in many other ways, he makes the bottles, he fills and fetches the bath, he cleans up the babies room afterwards, he will make me a sandwich, go to the shop for me etc.  He will even change a nappy or do a feed for me if I need him too, but he is just not good with them when they are yelling. 

And yes, sometimes I do wish I had one of those new age sensitive types who rubbed my belly when I was pg (he never did), who spoke to the unborn babies through the womb (are you crazy?? Him??).  That he would say to me “I’ll do a night shift for you”.  But that would be I would have to change him, and I don’t want to.  I love him just the way he is, I don’t want to upset the balance and get another version, I like the husband I have.

I don’t know if it is a South African male thing, but my father and his father were like that too.  I have never doubted my father loved me, I have never felt any negative effects of having a father who was not involved in my care as a newborn.  He was so involved with me as a child.  I am not surprised or disappointed, it is what I am used to.  It is just the way it is.  It doesn’t mean he loves them less.  And I suppose because I have Rose, I am ok with the situation.  I do have help.  I know if I absolutely needed him to do any thing he would, but I am not going to force him to do things that make him anxious. 

The only thing I worry about is that he is missing out on this time, but he assures me that he is ok, that his time will come.  And I really do believe him.

So that is where Marko is (zzzzz) when I say I am rocking a baby at 3 in the morning.  That is why I say I have to steal a quick five minutes to shower.  Because I do the crying baby shifts in our house.

The reason I didn’t want to post this is because I don’t want any one to think any thing horrible about my husband, he is a wonderful husband and a wonderful father.  This is how OUR family works. But I did want to post this in case there are others out there who face a similar situation, so that they needn’t feel alone.

Every one has their strengths and weaknesses, and that is ok.  We can’t all be good at every thing.  Remember, my husband might not be perfect, but he is perfect for ME.  I love him just the way he is.  Well except for the rich thing, I would like him to be richer.  That would be nice.  Maybe that small little change request could be slipped through.

So, do you have a Paul or a Marko?

An excellent piece of advice

This piece, left by HeatherP in the comments below, is just brilliant.  Really eye opening.  Please remind me of these words when I get all anal and worked up.  Added to your wonderful advice below I am really going to do my best to RELAX (might be difficult for me but will try) and enjoy each stage and not stress too much whether I am doing the right thing or not.  It’s just that I so badly want to do the best I can.  But okay, I hear what every one is saying.

Lordy, I am painful aren’t I?  I think I am my own worst enemy.  Shut up Tertia, you asshole. 

___________________________________________________________________

If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the black button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice The sturdy toddler with the lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin. ALL MY BABIES are gone now.

I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.  Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber duckie at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past. Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach. T. Berry Brazleton. Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early- childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all. Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One boy is toilet trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. First science said environment was the great shaper of human nature. But it certainly seemed as though those babies had distinct personalities, some contemplative, some gregarious, some crabby. And eventually science said that was right, and that they were hard-wired exactly as we had suspected.

Still, the temptation to defer to the experts was huge. The literate parent, who approaches everything; cooking, decorating, life as though there were a paper due or an exam scheduled, is in particular peril when the kids arrive.

How silly it all seems now, the obsessing about language acquisition and physical milestones, the riding the waves of normal, gifted, hyperactive, all those labels that reduced individuality to a series of cubbyholes. But I could not help myself. I had watched my mother casually raise five children born over 10 years, but by watching her I intuitively knew that I was engaged in the greatest and potentially most catastrophic task of my life. I knew that there were mothers who had worried with good reason, that there were children who would have great challenges to meet. We were lucky; ours were not among them. Nothing horrible or astonishing happened: there was hernia surgery, some stitches, a broken arm and a fuchsia cast to go with it. Mostly ours were the ordinary everyday terrors and miracles of raising a child, and our children's challenges the old familiar ones of learning to live as themselves in the world. The trick was to get past my fears, my ego and my inadequacies to help them do that.

I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub- quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did NOT LIVE IN THE MOMENT ENOUGH. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity.

That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Anna Quindlen

I wish I’d never……..

I was chatting to a now pg IF friend of mine, telling her that one of the hardest things about being a new mom is that I have no idea if what I am doing is right.  I am so scared that in one, two, five or ten years time I was going to say ‘I wish I had never ….. (co-slept / demand fed / fed on schedule / smacked / not smacked / rocked to sleep etc).  Am I being too soft, too hard? Not strict enough? Etc etc.

I am so scared I am inadvertently making a terrible mistake, one (or several) which I will sorely regret later.  (Little niggling fear about letting them go to sleep in my arms before putting them down, but cant seem to find alternative).

As we spoke about a while ago, one of the losses of the modern world is that new mothers are no longer surrounded by communities of experienced mothers, grannies, aunts etc who would provide this advice and support. 

Luckily one of the great spin offs of the Internet is that we are able to provide some semblance of this in the form of virtual communities, like bulletin boards, blogs etc.

So dear experienced mothers, aunts and grannies, I am looking to you as my virtual community, your collective words of wisdom are once again required:

If you look back now (one month, one year, 10 / 20 years down the line), what do you wish you had not done?  What / how could I learn from your mistakes? 

Study finds bottle-feeding causes itchiness

An extensive study (n = 1) has found that bottle-feeding causes facial itchiness (p = 0.01). 

As soon as you start the bottle feed, some thing on your face will itch / need rubbing - your eyes, nose, scalp etc.  Without fail.

There are two ways of dealing with this (ignoring the itch is impossible, the itch is in the magnitude of ‘fucking itchy’, which is v v itchy.)

The first method sees you break the flow to eject the bottle and scratch.  This method is known as premature ejectulation.  I don’t like this method as often it is v difficult to get going / sucking again.

The second method, the one I use, is to tough it out and wait for the burp break.  It is actually quite comical to observe.  You see us sitting serenely having a feed, then I will take the bottle out, lean the babe against my chest (thus freeing a hand) and then a few seconds of frantic, manic scratching and rubbing will ensue.  This will also involve preventative rubbing.  I.e. rubbing of facial parts not yet itchy, but with a high likelihood of being itchy the minute you insert the bottle backing the waiting mouth.

Researchers are investigating a link between bottle-feeding and freshly applied nail polish as the same phenomenon seems to occur then as well.

(02:00 am.  Kate awake and in arms.)

Odds and Ends

A few things……

My Pediatrician

Can you believe it, my Ped is infertile! Both him and his wife are pediatricians, so they obviously love kids.  How cruel is that.  I only found out after I had chosen him, but it makes me like him even more.  Him and his wife have tried a few IVF’s but no success.  They are hoping to adopt twins.  Trust me to find an infertile Ped.  We sit and discuss how crap IF is and how unfair it is that you get parents who do not appreciate their kids.  It must be really hard for him.

My kids

The little critters had their shots today.  Poor little buggers.  I did tell them that they came from an injection (Gonal F), that their mother had to endure many many shots in order to create them, and that they must stop being nampy pampy crybabies.  They cried any way.  I did feel sorry for them. 

Miserable little man

Adam is not feeling well and like a typical male he is as miserable as hell.  He hath a stuffy nothe.  He wont lie down and only wants to be up in my arms.  Last night was interesting.  I held him the entire night, I couldn’t put him down or he would cry.  Not much sleep was had by the mother.  Thank goodness Rose took Kate so I could concentrate all my efforts on Adam.

Faking it

Did you know that you can actually fake drinking from your bottle?  If you do it properly your mother wont know and you will get to go to sleep peacefully.

What you do is you make sucking motions with your jaw, but you don’t actually swallow!! 

So your mother thinks you are drinking but you are actually having a delicious nap at her expense.  She will only notice after a while when the level has not gone down.

Brilliant!

Weddings

It is my little sister’s wedding on Saturday and I have got outfits for the babes.  Nothing naff, cute stuff.  Well not V naff, slightly naff.  Outfits for babies are naff in general, especially for boys, Kate has a stunning dress my sister brought from London. 

Can’t wait to get some nice pictures of Marko and I and the kids.  Eventually you will see pics of me with the babies.  I haven’t up to now because I am looking revoltingly ugly and on Saturday I will have to get dressed up and make a bit of an effort.  I have bought a new frock (love that word ‘frock’) that hides the flab fairly well.  And I have gorgeous shoes to go with the frock.  Haven’t worn heels since before Luke and Ben.

Me

I went for my six-week post partum check up.  Apparently all is well down below and I am good to go.  Yay.  Not.  Well maybe a little yay, suppose I do miss sex, wonder if I will remember what to do, its been so long.  Apparently Marko knows exactly how long, to the day.  Something like 10 months and 3 days.

Oh wait, odd moment:  The Dr was going on and on about contraception.  Contraception?  It seems so wrong to speak to an infertile person about contraception, however I certainly do not want to fall pg again, not now.  Maybe later?  I don’t know.  We always said only two kids but a not so secret part of me would love to get pg the ‘normal’ way.  And have a normal pg.  But NO!  No more babies.  I don’t think.  Don’t tell Marko, he would have a heart attack.  The man is v v gun shy.  The official line is no more babies.

The night nurse

I got rid of her.  As much as I loved the break, it was the right thing to do.  I will look for another one who I am more comfortable with. 

When I find the time to blog

A few of you have asked where I find the time blog.  I blog mostly at night, in the middle of the night, and always with a babe on my chest / in my arms.  Instead of sitting in front of the TV to pass time I sit in front of the computer.  I swear the babes are so used to me tapping away at the computer when I was pg that they are lulled by it now.  Kate is lying on my chest as we speak.  She is miserable after her shots and doesn’t want to lie down.

So when you read my updates think of me sitting in the dark, child in arms, in the middle of the night.  But instead of picturing me with greasy hair tied up and old holey T shirt on, rather imagine me looking glamorous and serene in stunning negligee.  Oh and take off about 10 pounds in your mental pic as well. 

And that’s it really.  Not much other news.  Once Adam is over his malady I am going to try and start putting them on a bit of stricter schedule.  At the moment we just eat and sleep on demand, but I need to start gently moving them towards a schedule for when I go back to work (horrors!!!  Back to work!!).  At the moment Adam wants to eat all the time for comfort cos he is not feeling well.

Some pics:

 

Bug Fix: Newborn Baby 1.0

Dear Manufacturer,

Since recently acquiring a Newborn Baby (NB) or two, I couldn’t help but notice a design fault here and there.  Nothing major but I feel obligated to make mention of these and perhaps offer some suggestions for Newborn Baby version 2.0 (release date not yet confirmed).

1. Burping:  I’ve noticed that although NB babies are perfectly able to fart at will, they require manual intervention to burp.  As any user will attest, this takes an enormous amount of start up time, and sometimes the baby just hangs and will not proceed until said burp is released. This is particularly annoying at 3 in the morning.  A self-burping auto-run function would save time and increase productivity.

2. Neck control:  It doesn’t exist in newborns.  This is obviously a bug in the design.  No neck control means the baby can only be operated with two hands, making multi-tasking v difficult.  More robust neck control should ship with standard model babies.

3. No F1 (Help) key / F1 key disabled:  NB Baby does not ship with any F1/Help key or user manual.  Makes trouble shooting v difficult.  At the very least they should come with a set of FAQ’s. 

4. Accessories:  NB Babies do not scale well.  Any upsizing requires often costly new accessories.  Not sure how to address this issue.  All I know is that I am sitting with plenty hardly used NB accessories that are now redundant. 

5. Shut down / ‘sleep’ mode:  This often fails.  The baby keeps rebooting itself.  Some times all night.  This obviously causes user fatigue.  Is there an override switch?  I’ve tried alt-ctrl-del and nothing works.

6. Communication errors:  NB Babies operate in a language that is highly difficult to decode, especially for first time users.  Redesign and decoding is required.  Do you offer easier to operate models in a more common language?

7. Repetitive programming:  NB Baby v1.0 does not offer much variety other than sleep (if you are lucky), eat, cry and poop, offering v basic interaction.  Could lead to user frustration.  Will version 2.0 offer any additional functionality?

8. Noxious emissions:  Have studies been done on the toxicity of the various emissions emanating from the baby?  Both forward and rear projections seem to be potentially hazardous to the user, based on smell alone.

9. User friendliness:  In summary, although the GUI (graphical user interface) is v attractive, I can’t help but mention how user-unfriendly the whole package is.  Not only is it v expensive, it is noisy, messy, time consuming and is v susceptible to bugs and viruses.  Buyer beware.  This purchase is a lifetime commitment.  The packaging should contain appropriate warnings.  I also question your no refund / returns policy.

However, I have heard that in spite of the above caution, most owners report high levels of satisfaction, are extremely loyal to their purchase, and so far there have been very few returns.  Apparently the product does get easier to operate.

I’ve heard that some of these design errors have been addressed in the upgrade path to Baby 3-6m.  This user still has to upgrade.

I look forward to your reply.

Yours sincerely,
New User

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I don’t.  When I met my husband, I thought he was kind of cute and that I might just keep him around for the summer.  In fact when my friends asked me when I would dump him (as was my habit) I said ‘after the summer’.  Well summer came and went and they asked ‘but WHEN are you going to dump him’.  So I said ‘as soon as he irritates me’.  By that stage every man I had met eventually ended up irritating me, and as a result had to be dumped.  After a year of Marko not irritating me I realized this could actually be Serious.  It could be True Love.  And so I married him.  And my love for him grows every day, it amazes me. (Except for the days where he acts like an asshole and I want to kill him).

So I don’t believe in love at first sight.  And I am going to tell you something that might get me crucified here, but it was not love at first sight with my babies.  Sure, I loved them because they were my children, but I didn’t feel that instant rush of overwhelming love.  Overwhelming fear yes, but not that rush of love that some people talk about.  I loved them but I wasn’t in love.

There was so much going on, the scary labour, the c-section, the months of bed rest, the loss of Luke and Ben, the five years of infertility, there was just too much stuff taking up space inside. 

And it worried me.  It worried my family actually.  As I’ve said, I do think I was suffering from a bit of PPD.  I was sorely disappointed, where was the rush of love?  The amazing feeling that I had waited for?  Reality was so different to the fantasy I had been harboring for so long.

What I didn’t know, and should have realized, is that love grows, well in my life it does.  It grows until you wake up and realize that you love your child fiercely.  With all your heart.  And forever.  And it’s a beautiful feeling.  I look down at my children lying on my chest and I can’t believe how much I love them.

It took a while, but I’m in love, truly madly deeply. 

A Rose by any other name

I would like to tell you about my nanny.  My wonderful nanny who has turned out to be an absolute gem.  She is not a qualified nanny, in fact she is not qualified in any thing, she is a young(ish) domestic helper who has a passion for looking after children.  But what she lacks in qualifications and experience she makes up for in enthusiasm and love.  She is wonderful and I am very very lucky to have found her.  Her name is Rose and we are learning together.  We both read the childcare books and adapt all the advice for what works for our children.  And yes, I call them our children because I consider her an integral part of my family.  I trust her completely with my children and I know she has their best interests at heart.  I would be lost without Rose, I don’t go any where with out her. 

She has offered to do some night duty for me, taking one baby so that we each have one baby.  I’ve done this a few times and it works really well.  It is a pleasure to look after only one at night. 

I really am fortunate to have found someone as wonderful as Rose.  She honestly makes life so much easier for me.  It is because of her that I am able to give each child as much love and attention as a singleton.  There is always an extra set of arms to hold.  I had a nightmare the other night that she resigned.  It was terrible, traumatic.  I have already upped her salary to three times the going rate, because she is so damn wonderful and also because I am so damn scared she leaves.  I swear she keeps me sane. 

It is because of her that the horrible fog of depression that haunted me for the first four weeks has lifted.  I love Rose.  I swear I do.

Ok, enough going on about Rose. 

Now about the babes’ six week check up.  Both babes are ‘thriving’ according to the Dr.  He said I am doing an excellent job, YAY! I got another gold star in my anal chart book.

Adam is now 4.65kg / 10.25lb and Kate is now 4.2kg / 9.25lb.  Both babies are on the 50th percentile for babies born at term!!!  Winner babes.  And they are both tall babies.  And obviously extremely intelligent and gifted.  Adam is showing particular fortitude in Math and Kate in Physics.

On another note, I think I might get rid of the night nurse.  I just don’t feel entirely comfortable with her.  She is too rough, too clinical.  I don’t think she will harm the babies, but my little babies are used to being treated gently.  She bathed them tonight and Rose and I stood there with big eyes.  We do things so softly and gently.  You can see she has bathed hundreds of babies, but not very many with love.  Know what I mean?  It’s not any thing specific, it’s just too, um, mechanical.  I don’t know.  Maybe I am too soft and protective?  But still.  Decisions decisions.  I like the idea of a night off, but not at the expense of my babies.  There is enough time later on life for rough stuff, when you are so little you need lots of love and soft care.  At least that is how I feel. 

So there you have it, a mixed bag of news.  I might write about what my husband does to help.  Or I might not.  I love my husband.  He just doesn’t do crying babies very well.  And that’s ok with me, cos he does so much else for me.  Not every one is good at every thing.

I wish Rose had a clone. Then I wouldn’t need the damn night nurse, husband help etc. 

Forgive the rambling disjointed style of this post, I am having wine.  More than one glass.  YAY.  Love wine.  Night nurse on duty, so wine allowed.  Wine and then straight to bed.  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

IVF'ers, your opinion is needed

Susan is contemplating a cycle with Sher Institute NYC. 

Please go to her blog and help her with her decision.

Thanks!

Some pics

My adorable kids