So Close

It’s the little things I miss

Being a mother (eventually) is wonderful.  The first few weeks were tough, I found them very hard, as you know.  I seriously wondered if I hadn’t made the hugest mistake.  Things are getting so much better now, as they become bigger, stronger and more responsive I am finding that I am actually loving this motherhood gig, a lot.  I am quite fond of the babes as well, they’ll do.  I am getting good at this. 

However, I will admit there are a few things I do miss from my previous life:

Having two hands:  I do every thing with one hand now, I always have a babe in the arms.  It is amazing how much you can do with one hand.  Last night I ate a chicken breast with one hand, no knife, only a fork.  It was messy, but it worked.  I ate my salad with a spoon so that I wouldn’t mess too much.  On Sunday we went out for lunch, Marko cut my meat and potatoes up in bite size pieces so that I could eat with one hand.  Sad really.

Been able to type with two hands:  I touch type (i.e. type without looking) and so when I have to type with one hand it takes me ages to type.  So if you get curt replies to your emails, it’s because it takes me ages to type with one hand.

Pouring myself a glass of wine:  An absolute tragedy that I am unable to do this.  I have to wait until Marko comes home to pour me a glass.  Bloody hell! Talk about being deprived.

Eating warm food:  By the time I end up eating my supper it is cold.  Ah well, at least its summer.  Who needs warm food any way.  That’s just been greedy.

Having a number 2:  Gone are the days where I felt the urge to go, and then went.  Now its either hurry up and go, or keep it in until they nap.  (Probably more information than you needed, right? But number 2’s feature very strongly in my life, big mood determiner.)

Leisurely showers:  Now it’s in, wash bits, out.  No singing, standing around, or generally having fun.

Manicured fingernails:  For fear of scratching the babes, I’ve chopped my nails down to sensible / lesbian length. 

Perfume:  I don’t want the poor babes to reek of my perfume, so I don’t wear it any more.  There is nothing worse than a poor baby reeking of perfume, gross.

TV:  Not that I watched a lot before but now I either miss half the programme due to screeching, or because I am busy feeding/bathing/wiping/rocking.

‘Popping’ out any where:  Going any where is a major production.  You don’t just ‘pop’ out any where.  You plan, pack, carry, repack, unpack, repack, cry, shove dummy in etc.

Talking to Julie:  I really miss that.  After speaking to her every day, I now hardly ever get to speak to her, and when we do its all abbreviated and hurried.  These babies can be damn inconvenient.  Keep interrupting our bonding time.

Sleep:  On the radio yesterday they had some study about how women whose husbands snore cumulatively lose 5 hours sleep a week, which negatively impacts their concentration, job performance etc and how much of a problem that is.  I was like HELLO!!! Try losing five hours a night!  No wonder I am a wreck.  If you see me on the roads, go in the other direction!

Only one change of clothes a day:  Baby puke just doesn’t look good on your crisp, fresh shirt.  Adam puked on my shoes the other day, MY SHOES!!!  I wore them any way, just wiped them off.  What’s a bit of baby puke between friends any way.  Oh that odor?  Eu de Vommé.

Lastly, and most importantly, I really miss my brain.  I used to have one.  Promise.

I am sure there are other things, but this is all I come up with on 3 hours sleep and 25% brainpower.  But it’s all oh so worth it! 

It's not too late for the survey!

BTW, It's not too late to do the little survey of mine, please do respond if you have time, I am still reading every reply, promise.  I am loving the attention.  I am so moved by your response that I might even post naked pictures of myself as a reward.  Or not.

Wow!

Wow!  Thanks for the excellent feedback, it was way more than I had hoped for.  I really appreciate you taking the time to respond and all the nice things you said.  My head is swollen.

A few comments in response.

Firstly, to the many of you who said they didn’t comment because they either felt they had nothing to add or because they were not yet a mother etc, PLEASE comment.  It totally doesn’t matter if you are not a mother, never want to be a mother or if you voted for Bush.  I read and appreciate every single comment, I am looking for your opinion.  It is what keeps me from chucking the baby out the window in the middle of the night, at least I have the comments to read.  I save them for those occasions when the little critters wont sleep and then I read them and savor them.  Comments make me feel as if I am not talking to myself most of the time. 

Then to those who said they appreciated my sense of humor.  I assume you meant ‘humour’?  What is this ‘humor’ of which you speak?  Have we not been through this before.  Seriously though, thanks.

For those of you who want to know more about living in SA – yay!  I love my country and would love to tell you more about it.  Watch this space.

And so many people from Australia?  I love Aussies, I love their sense of humour, v similar to mine. 

Lastly, thank you for the positive reinforcement about my mothering skills.  I actually don’t doubt myself, because I know love is the most important thing, and I have that in abundance.  I am just really keen to learn from others.  I believe there is so much I could gain from engaging in conversions with those who have gone before me.  I will use what fits my family and put aside that which doesn’t.

This was excellent, thank you.

Big smooch to all of you, my dear asshole* readers. 

*For those of you new to my blog, being called an asshole is a compliment of the highest order.

My friend Tatiana

And another to do while I wait for you to complete my survey.  Please go and say hi to my friend Tatiana.  She is a Ukrainian living in SA.  We met online, on a SA support board for people going through IVF.  She stays in a different city to me but we’ve managed to meet up a few times.  She had success on her fourth IVF only to have her whole come crashing down a year later.

She is gorgeous and divine, but because her asshole husband cheated on her she doesn’t believe that she is. 

She has recently got divorced and is blogging about how she is coping. Or not coping, depending on the day.

Please go say hi and give her some support.  And tell her how gorgeous and divine she is. 

While I wait, for your entertainment

While I wait for the latecomers to add their bit to my previous survey , I thought I would post some pics for your entertainment.

Some pics of the babes smiling . Aren't they just gorgeous!

Sadly, the bloody *^%;ing camera crashed and I lost all the pictures from the wedding.  And I looked particularly gorgeous in those pics.  And thin.  FUCK!!!  How irritating is that.  I normally look hideously revolting in photos, which is why I never put photos of myself on my blog.  I really look v ugly in photos.  Unless of course I am actually that ugly?  Can’t be.  I am gorgeous and divine after all. 

Here are some that Marko managed to save off his fancy new DVD recorder thingy. 

Good lord I have a big nose and big ears.  See why I don’t post photos of myself!!!

So, tell me about YOU….

Here we are, oralling on and on about me, and I know nothing about you. How very self-centred of me.

When I started this blog, it was an outlet for my pain over losing Ben and Luke, and my fear in doing another cycle.  Then it became a journal of sorts about my scary pregnancy.  Lately it has become a series of really helpful conversations with some very fascinating women (and a few men).  And Mollie.  Who fits neither category. 

I’ve bared my soul (and my underpants) to you; I’d like to know what turns you on.  Well, besides me in my underpants, which frankly, would turn any one on, lets be honest.

So, tell me more about you: 

Lurkers, it’s time to delurk. I want to know whom I am speaking to.

(answer all, some, none, in bullet point form, essay answers, whatever.  If you don’t want to put your name, that’s fine.  Just put ‘anon’ and your email as anon@anon)

1. What do we have in common?  Infertility?  Motherhood?  Being gorgeous and divine?  All of the above?

2. How did you find me?

3. Do you comment?  If yes, thanks! If no, how come you don’t?

4. What aspects of my blog (if any) do you enjoy?

5. What do you wish our conversations were more about?

6. What do you wish I would shut up about?

7. I am fascinated by all the different places we are from.  Where are you from?

8. Lastly, any tips, suggestions, adorations or pieces of assvice?

Don’t worry, I am not going to change the nature of my blog in order to suit certain tastes, I am still writing for myself and about my life.  However I am really interested in whom I am speaking to, how on earth you found me, and what you think.  The whole ‘world as a global village’ thing is so great, especially for me living in Africa.  The Internet has a particularly powerful significance here.

All entries will entered into a draw and the lucky winner will win a weekend away with me.  Second prize is two weekends away with Julie.  Third prize, a month away with Mollie.

Looking forward to finding out who lives in my computer.

 

Planning ahead

One of the (many) crap things about infertility is that you can never plan ahead.  Oh, in the beginning you foolishly think you can.  You say things like ‘oh we can’t go on that holiday in July because I might be pregnant by then’.  Cue hysterical laughter.  Or ‘I wont do the spare room up because we might have a baby soon and it will be the nursery’.  More hysterical laughter.  Eventually, after a few years of no baby in sight you think what the hell and buy that summer outfit, or plan that holiday.  That’s if of course you have two cents to rub together after paying for all your (failed) treatment.

And nothing changes when you eventually, hopefully, get pregnant.  Buy baby things?  ARE YOU CRAZY?  You never know what could happen.

I’ve been living this way for five years.  Ask me where I saw myself in five years time? I wouldn’t been able to tell you where I saw myself in five months time, never mind five years.  I was so used to the universe fucking me and my plans / dreams over.

That mentality is difficult break. 

The fabulous annual Woolies summer sale was on this week.  I was armed to the teeth with previously mentioned generous gift certificate.  Rose and I were waiting outside the doors at sparrows fart, ready to elbow aside other intrepid shoppers.  Woolies has the best baby clothes and that always goes first.  My sister, she of three kids fame, wisely advised that I buy clothes for the babes for next summer, size 12-18 months.  So I did, I rushed in and grabbed stuff.  Lots of really gorgeous things. 

And then I got a twinge.  A rush of nervousness.  I thought to myself ‘are you sure you should be buying this now, you know, planning that far ahead.  You know, in case…..’

IN CASE WHAT?????   What the hell was I thinking?  In case what?  I couldn’t even think it, it was too sick.  I am so used to things not working out, to having happiness whipped away from me that even now I can’t believe that this will last.  Even now, I find it incredibly hard to believe that this is it.  The pain is over, I have my babies now.  To keep. 

The scars run so deep.  It makes me sad.  Infertility casts a long shadow.

PS:  POOF!!  That’s my voucher disappearing in a flash of spending smoke.  The babes thank you again for your generosity.  Got such cute big boy and big girl things for next year.  Can’t believe they are going to be that big.

Crying

Thank you so much for your comments re the sleep thing.  As always, you have made me feel a lot better and a lot less anxious about getting things spot on right now.  It will come right with time.

However, one aspect of the comments made me think about something.  About the crying thing.  I realized that I have never let my babies cry for longer than a minute.  They get so upset when they cry that I don’t have it in me to let them cry any longer. The only reason why they have cried for a minute is that I have been busy with the other one.  Even then, I will talk loudly to them so that they know I am there or pat them.  But normally I will pick them up once they start crying.  Not just fussing.  But once they start crying I pick them up.  My FIL keeps telling me they are spoilt.

When they cry they get so upset, they look genuinely distraught.  They wave their little arms around and claw at their face.  That cry is straight from the heart.  I just can’t do it.  The thought of letting them cry for five whole minutes…… that is so long.  Five minutes.  They have to be scared for five whole minutes?

They do cry in my arms, but then it’s a different cry.  I ‘let’ them cry then because I know that they know they are safe with me, that they haven’t been abandoned.

Every now and then someone will say something that really affects me, both positively and negatively*.  A cyber friend wrote me an email about CIO and said this to me “how would you feel if you were really scared, if you lay there crying, and you weren’t sure the person who was looking after you was ever going to come and ‘save’ you.”  And since then, when they cry like that I think to myself imagine if it was me, lying there, so scared.  I can’t do it.  I can’t let them cry and be frightened.  It goes against every fiber of my being.  I keep thinking how I would feel if it was me.

And yet I know that CIO does work.  And that they don’t cry for long. We will see.  This post is not about CIO and whether I believe in it or not.  It’s about the realization that I have never let my babies lie there and cry.  I might try CIO, I might not, but I wont try it before they are six months any way.

As you say, maybe when they are a little older.  Once they are more aware of their surroundings and have a better sense of permanence.  I will see what works for them.  If I wasn’t going back to work I wouldn’t stress nearly as much.  Oh well.  I will just have to be dead tired and brain dead until then. 

* Most of the time I let negative comments on my blog wash over me.  As you might have noticed I don’t delete the negative comments, or even the trolls because I believe that by making this blog public and asking the questions I ask, I am opening myself up for agreeing and dissenting opinions.  It also feels dishonest to delete the negative ones, creating a picture that every one loves me and agrees with me.

BUT… it can also do harm.  When I was feeling so down that first month, and really doubting myself in the beginning, a commenter wrote that she “felt like slapping me” because I was complaining how difficult it was and here I was with a husband AND a nanny and her friend was a single mom to twins.  It just reconfirmed my inner fear that I was useless, that other people were coping and so should I.  That I should just suck it up.  It did a lot of damage that comment.  I am sorry I took it to heart. 

More pics

How gorgeous and divine am I???  We are wearing outfits Aunty Danae sent to us.  All the way from overseas!

And look what our clever mother bought for us (on the sale) with the gift certificate the kind ladies in the computer gave us.  It’s for next Summer, when we start walking.  Cute huh.

Yet another baby question

Just let me know when you are tired of me asking baby questions.  Pardon?  Can’t hear you, fingers in my ears, la la laaaaaa.

So.  About this sleep thing.

One thing that I read in all the books is that it is very important to put your baby to sleep drowsy, but not yet totally asleep.  So that he / she can teach himself to fall asleep on his own, without aids like rocking etc.  Right.  Makes perfect sense.  I like that idea, a lot.

Except that when I put my babies down to sleep awake, they start crying.  They can be as drowsy as all hell (practically comatose) but the minute you lower them down they wake up and cry.  It is quite comical (if you aren’t the mother of the child) to see how it works:  Hold them in your arms, they are sleeping like, well, not babies cos babies don’t sleep, but they are sleeping nicely.  Lower them towards the crib and the minute you get within one inch of the mattress their eyes spring open and the little face screws up to cry.  Pick them up again and hold in your arms – asleep within seconds.  Repeat several times with same result.  My kids don’t like to be swaddled, plus it is damn hot here.

The books also say that under six months is too young to let them cry it out.  So what do I do?  I like the idea of putting them down drowsy but awake, but I also don’t think they should cry themselves to sleep.  And my babies cry when I put them down to sleep unless they have been rocked to sleep.

I’ve heard a few people say that one of the best things they did was to put their children down drowsy but not asleep – how did you do this?  Did you let them cry a bit in the beginning?  Or did your children not cry when they were put down?  It is too late for me at 2 months old already?  Have I rocked myself into a Bad Habit already?  Should I try spanking them?  No dinner?  THAT WAS A JOKE.  I wont spank them until they are at least four, four and a half months old.

And if I hear one person tell me their child slept through the night from six weeks I will vomit.  My children want to eat every four hours?  They aren’t interested in going for longer than that, day or night.  BUT…. I am going back to work soon, I need to get a bit more sleep, soon.

BTW – have ordered happiest baby on the block and baby whisperer, should arrive this week.