On good food and friends
Aug 14, 2010 Family life
We just came back from some friends of ours. They invited us to an Indian dinner. They made dahl, chicken, rice and naan bread… We (well, mostly Zak) made samosas and Indian spiced donuts. It was the first time either of us made donuts, and we were amazed with how easy it turned out to be. They are also relatively healthy because they are made with whole-wheat flour and absorb very little oil. But most of all, they are amazingly yummy! I mean, the other foods were also very good, but the donuts! Wow!
It’s really great to have those friends around because not only are they very nice and interesting, they have a son that ours loves to play with and who has lots of cool toys. So while we adults were having a meaningful conversation downstairs, the kids were playing upstairs in the boy’s bedroom, interrupting us only once every few minutes instead of the usual every few seconds. And best of all: they live in our building. So when the kids get too tired, when we realize it’s late and we should put everyone to bed, we are only an elevator ride away from home.
For quite a while after we moved to Vancouver we didn’t have many friends. We would meet people and then they would move away. It was very frustrating. And to be fair, my best friend is still the one I have had since sixth grade and who lives at the other end of the country. But in the last few years, we have met lots of nice people around here, some in prenatal classes or some other ways linked to our son, and many in our building. It’s people that we can have dinner or tea or a beer with once in a while, people we can trade recipes with, people we can count on to water our plants when we go away or to borrow an egg from when we realize we’re short one in the middle of baking something. More than that: I know I could count on them to take care of my child in an emergency.
So as I am reflecting upon my day, I am thinking that it’s good to have friends again…
Should I be worried?
Aug 14, 2010 Family life, Rant
We went on a visit of the Maternity Ward at the hospital where I am supposed to give birth… Our hope was that by seeing where we would be for the birth, our son would be less worried about us leaving him behind (to be cared for by someone else). I’m not sure it worked as there were so many couples that it was hard for our boy to see. And a side effect of the visit is: now I’m the one who’s worried.
The nurse who did the tour with us, who is one of the Maternity nurses, actually said that “babies are born blind” and that “they can’t recognize your face until they’re about six months old”. She also mentioned really deep things like “breast milk is better for the baby because it reduces the risks of allergies and stuff”, and that “the content of breast milk is actually better for the baby than formula”. At least those last two are true. Broad and obvious to any parent who has read anything (even formula advertisements admit that breast is best), but not false, unlike the first two.
Every single book I have ever read about babies says that they can see about the distance from the breast to the face when they are born. I also remember reading that they cannot focus very well and things are blurry, but they are certainly not blind. When I did a quick search tonight, I found that new studies seem to show that babies can see much further than the 10 inches usually stated, although they cannot focus their gaze accurately. As for not recognizing a face before 6 months, that’s just ridiculous! And she’s a maternity ward nurse! I guess it’s better than pediatrics, she only has to deal with the babies for a few days. But it did get me worried. I do not want this nurse to be the one with me at my child’s birth!
That was a party!
Aug 6, 2010 Family life
We had a few friends of our son’s here tonight for his birthday. We blew up tons of small balloons, plus two giant 3-foot ones, and the kids hit them around the courtyard for a while. Then we had the awesome cake Zak had spent the whole week preparing. In case I haven’t mentioned it yet, here is how it goes: home made chocolate-butter cookies crumbled into a crust mixed with home-made fudge sauce to hold it together, then a layer of home-made chocolate ice cream, followed by another layer of crust, then home-made vanilla ice cream. He shaped it like a moon, made craters and added moon characters for authenticity and more crumbled cookies for meteors (and yumminess). It took several days because each step had to be done separately. But let me tell you: no adult actually passed up on it. Many had seconds. A few even had thirds. Here’s what it looked like:
It went remarkably well. There was no tantrums (none! and we had five kids between barely two and just over four!). Our son didn’t even cry when one of the giant balloons popped. He shared the balloons and other toys, he spent about 45 minutes eating cake (while all the other kids had gone back to playing), he put cake all over himself (which is part of the fun, right?) and I had time for decent, adult conversation with friends of ours.
Our boy went biking on his new bike this morning and he can already bike by himself! Zak had to help him get started, but then he actually let go of the bike and it was fine. Without training wheels. On a 16 inch bike. On his third birthday. I’m impressed. Maybe it’s the flames on his helmet? And no, he didn’t go down that hill. Not today. But it will come. I’m scared already!
Today was also my last day of work until August 15, 2011! That was nice to write on my out-of-office auto-reply message. Officially I’m on holiday next week, then my mat leave starts. I hope the baby waits at least a couple of weeks so that the two kids are not too close together – you know, so that Zak has time to do another ice cream cake in the interval. I know kids hate it when their birthdays are so close together that they get celebrated together. But we’ll see. We’re not quite ready yet… I have a foot-long to-do list.
Maybe I’ll start with going to bed. Now that I’m off, sleeping is at the top of my preoccupations.
Good night!
Happy birthday!
Aug 6, 2010 Family life
My son is turning three today. I can hardly believe it. He’s not a toddler anymore. He’s officially a preschooler. What can (should) I say about (to) him on this very special day? How can I explain this amazing trip journey I have taken because of him in the last three years. He has changed our lives, all right. And over the years there have been some good and some bad days. But overall, of course, I could never imagine going back to how it was before he was here.
My son was born on a Statutory holiday, a Monday, after a very short and (relatively) easy labor. Through the ordeal (all 7 hours of it), Zak was amazing. Our doctor was amazing. The labor nurse was amazing. My son was, of course, amazing. He still is.
Those three years went by so fast! My baby boy went from, as my brother so nicely put it, a state close to that of a larvae to a full-fledged human that cannot go unacknowledged. From not being able to hold up his head to walking, then running, and now biking. From crying to babbling to saying a few words to showing a sense of humor to sustaining long conversations on complicated concepts. And we have changed, too. Becoming parents is hard, but I think it makes us better people. At least on most days.
My son fascinates me every day with his cleverness. He has the funnest imagination. He is super affectionate – with me, we could even say clingy, but he’s affectionate with Zak too and doesn’t spare hugs and kisses. He’s social with other people. He loves animals, diggers and space shuttles, sports of all sorts, fruits, chocolate and ice cream. Especially chocolate ice cream.
Three years ago (already?), I was holding him against me for the first time. Now I am about to give birth to his sibling. I am slightly terrified at the thought of what will happen, but I am hoping we will find a balance that won’t be too hard for him. I know I won’t be able to focus as much attention on my big boy anymore, but he will never cease to be special to me. It’s with him that I became a mother, and I know that thanks to him I will feel more competent this time around. It’s him that made my husband into a stay-at-home dad – the best I could have imagined. And although he has tested our marriage in more than one ways, he has also cemented it in just as many ways.
He is only three, and yet he is so grown up. He is reaching milestones towards independence every day. This year, he was weaned. He stopped wearing diapers (except at night, and even then he’s dry most nights). He started really playing with other children. He developed language to an all-new level and now masters really complicated thought processes. Him and I were separated for several days for the first time. He officially outgrew the backpack carrier, which means he now has to walk when we go hiking (which means we can’t hike much anymore). He learned to pick fruit. He started having nightmares. And he just received, for his birthday, a big boy bike – with pedals. I’m telling you: he’s taking wings.
Next year will be just as busy. He will, of course, have a sibling soon, but he will also start preschool in September. That will be a big one! I really hope we’ll be able to keep giving him our best despite having to share our attention with another child. He deserves it. He can be so stubborn, but he is also so smart! Sometimes we worry about him acting aggressively, but he can also show so much empathy!
I know this post is very random, but there are so many things I would like to say, so many things I would like my son to be able to read some day. Especially how much I love him. I will never stop loving him, just like I haven’t stopped loving him since that day three years ago when he decided it was time to see the world. I will be there to hold and hug him for as long as he needs me nearby. No matter what happens, I’ll always be his mother.
Bonne fête mon amour!
What a night!
Aug 4, 2010 Family life
I hear my son’s door open (noisily) in the middle of the night. I lie, awake but waiting, to see if he will need me or figure things out on his own (he never has, but there’s always a first)… I’m pretty sure he takes a look in our bedroom to see if we’re still there, sleeping, but we don’t move, so he then makes his way to the bathroom. Then I hear the inevitable:
- Maman…
- Mmm?
- I can’t take off my diaper!
I slowly shift my weight (my huge weight) and try to make it out of bed. It’s made harder by the presence of the crib by the bed. I was going to say the empty crib, but the truth is, it’s not empty. It’s full of crap. We need to clean up!
I make it to the bathroom, where my son has already figured it all out. Once he’s done peeing, I take his place and he goes back to bed on his own. I was useless this time. I wish I could have stayed asleep – or at least in bed. Anyway, when I’m done I go shut the door to his bedroom that he left slightly ajar. Then he calls me back.
- Maman!
- Yes?
- I want the door partly open.
- No, love. We might wake you up in the morning. Better have it closed.
I glance at my watch as I go back to bed. It’s 4:20. Zak joins me after going to the washroom, too. We try to fall back asleep. For some reason, my brain won’t shut down: I am thinking about baby names. But I’m slowly drifting back to sleep when I hear my son’s bedroom door open again.
- Maman?
- Go back to bed!
- Maman, is it wake up time?
- No! It’s the middle of the night. Go back to sleep.
He goes back to bed, but leaves the door ajar. At this point I don’t care anymore. I want to sleep. I’m not going to get up again. I fall back asleep after what seems like a very, very long time tossing and turning. Then, way too soon, I hear my son get up.
- Maman, I woke up.
I glance at my watch. It’s 6:30.
- It’s too early, go back to bed.
- I can’t sleep anymore!
Zak and I stay in bed, pretending to sleep. Our son used to wake up that early all the time, but since he stopped napping in the afternoon, he usually sleeps past 7, sometimes even until 8. When he wakes up before 7, he’s usually cranky all day. So anyway, we stay in bed, but our son is not going back to sleep. We can hear some rummaging, and then:
- Maman, I’m ready to go downstairs. I have a shirt and shorts.
- Then go downstairs, says Zak.
We got up not long after that. But our son had gone downstairs and was calmly playing with his toys by himself. Maybe that means we can start sending him off to play, and stay in bed, when he wakes up early in the morning? Oh, wait. We’re having another baby.
Grrrr…
I’m tired today. Wonder why.
My thoughts on midwives – so far
Aug 3, 2010 Family life
When we first talked about being followed by a midwife for this pregnancy, I could see that my mother-in-law wasn’t too warm at the thought. She’s not one to try and skew our decision, but she did tell us that in her professional interactions with midwives she has found them to sometimes be too nonchalant about what she considers to be serious health issues. I went into it with that in mind: I figured that I knew enough, having had one normal and easy pregnancy/delivery, and what I didn’t know I could research. I knew I had resources I could tap in if I wasn’t satisfied with the information I was getting.
And frankly, the care I received was pretty much what I expected. Being followed by 4 different midwives (5 counting the fill-in), there was one instance when one talked about doing an extra ultrasound, and I had to bring it up with the midwife at the following exam because she personally would have skipped it, thinking it was most likely not needed. I could deal with that. I knew I was on top of things. I received some information I never received from my doctor the first time around – midwives pride themselves on allowing their patients to give informed consent. But overall, the information didn’t change anything and I went with all the same tests and procedures that my doctor did the first time around. I can’t say I have been really upset about something that I found out was done to me or my son the first time that shouldn’t have been done. I still think the care I received from my family doctor was top notch.
Now when I walked into the office this time, at 36 weeks, the midwife’s first words were “Well, your GBS test was negative, that’s at least one thing you have going for you”… I guess I must have given her a weird look… after which she said “You know your baby is footling breach, right?”
I think my reply was a bit confused… The baby is what? I didn’t know what “footling” meant. I know what breach means. I knew the baby was breach at the ultrasound (at 32 weeks). But 2 days after the ultrasound, at the next exam, the midwife said the baby had turned. To me, that meant case closed, everything is good, no? Well, apparently not. Apparently, they should have been a bit more worried about the breach thing. Footling breach is the worse position, with the baby feet down. If the baby was still in that position, there is no way I could have a vaginal delivery – not sure that I would want one anyway, but that’s another story.
What bothers me is, I had that exam at the midwife, then another one at 35 weeks. The midwife at that appointment also said the baby was head down, and that was it. Now at 36 weeks, the midwife (a different one at each of those 3 appointments) was saying that a follow-up ultrasound would be needed to assess the baby’s position. I can live with doing another ultrasound. But I wish I had been told that 3 weeks ago instead of being led to believe everything was normal.
In their defense, the two midwives that were present there today both still believe that the baby is head down. So chances are pretty good that the baby HAS turned and that everything will be fine. What I find hard is this difference of attitude, from “Your baby has turned, all is well” to “It feels like your baby has turned, but we should verify because if it hasn’t you’ll have some decisions to make”. Which brings me to those decisions: if I had known what the situation was 4 weeks ago, I would have already researched the possibility of a breach delivery. As of now, I don’t think I want to go there, but the alternative (again, if the baby hasn’t turned, which is still unlikely) is a C-section. Which, when planned, is usually done around 38 weeks. THAT’S IN 2 FREAKING WEEKS!
When that was mentioned, Zak and I looked at each other with the same air of panic. IF I was to have a c-section… Well, let’s just say we haven’t planned for that.
I’m not going to worry too much yet because I still have 4 different midwives that are convinced my baby is head down. But I’ll have an ultrasound this week to confirm and see if I have to panic. The appointment they managed to make is Friday pm – right around the time we were to celebrate our son’s third birthday. The invitations are out. So I’ll try to reschedule, and if I can’t I may have to go to the appointment alone, lest we end up with one very disappointed toddler. He’s already going to have to put up with a lot once the baby is born, I would like to at least make sure he has an enjoyable third birthday. So yeah, today was an awesome day.
I’m sure tomorrow will be better. I’m sure the baby is head down. I’m sure I’ll have a normal, vaginal birth. Right? But you know, from now on, I’m afraid every time someone will ask me what I think about midwifery, what will come to my mind is that midwife saying to me, at 36 weeks, “Well, after having a very quick and easy labor the first time around, you would be a prime candidate for breach delivery”. Pardon? I believe I would have to give informed consent first! My idea of a great time is not to discover when I’m already in labor that the baby is breach.
I’m just hoping the midwives redeem themselves at birth!
The cost of consistency
Aug 3, 2010 Family life
The favorite part of my day is putting my son to bed and singing him a song. I rotate several songs – campfire songs, traditional songs, popular songs – but always in French, and my son sings along with me as soon as he can remember a few words. I love it, and even when I had a hard day, even when he has been a brat, it gives me a change to unwind, remember how much I love him (and why), think of how lucky I am to be on the receiving end of his hugs at the end of the day, and forget all about his recent tantrums. But…
But lately he has started throwing tantrums when it’s time to go home after playing outside. Sometimes it’s before, sometimes after supper. He does that only with me, it’s really annoying and we’re trying to stop the behaviour. And unfortunately, the only thing I have found to threaten him with if he’s not nice is putting him to be without a song. I hate doing it, because it punishes me as much as it punishes him. But he seems to actually care about his evening song, which gives it some weight, and it is feasible. And it involves only me. I can’t say “you won’t go out tomorrow”, Zak would go crazy… And I don’t want to punish him with not going out anyway, because he needs to go out, it’s healthy, it’s good for him… Same with the snack before bedtime – I can’t refuse that. We could take toys away, but when it’s soon before bedtime it would be pretty irrelevant. We can’t take TV away since we don’t have one. The song is without consequence on his health or long-term well-being.
In the last two weeks he had to go to bed without a song twice. Not toooo bad. But it still sucks. And I give him lots of changes to take a deep breath and calm down and follow me home. Only when he persists in the bad behavior do I take the song away from him.
Hopefully he’ll learn his lesson soon… That way I can stop punishing myself.