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motherhood

Somebody tell me again why I’m breastfeeding

September 14, 2009

The good news is that Kirsten has started sleeping through the night. Since she turned 6 weeks, she’s been sleeping from 12 midnight to 6 in the morning, which gives me six whole hours of uninterrupted sleep. Now at 9 weeks, she’s been stretching that to 10 hours every night.

Naturally, I’ve been taking advantage of this new development to catch as much sleep as I can, except that my breasts seem hell bent on destroying me. I figured that if I ignored them, they would stop bothering me and eventually adjust to the new feeding hours so for a few nights, I express my last round of milk at 1o and crawl into bed by 11.30. This would last till 7 in the morning when Kirsten starts stirring. Initially, I started leaking milk all over my top, which I was prepared to handle in exchange for more sleep, but a after 2-3 days of leaking, they decided to develop blocked ducts instead and believe me, it is a pain in the ass breast.

I know it sounds like a very mild condition, like a blocked nose or something, but no, it is nothing like it at all. You can’t just blow it out and go along your merry way. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s worse than hemorrhoids combined with herpes at the same time. The pain is pretty much indescribable, like someone stuffed rocks into my breast and started beating it. Repeatedly.

A few nights ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain in my left breast. I waited for it to pass, but it got so unbearable that I had to get up to check it. I tried expressing, but putting the pump to it was sheer torture. The entire breast had become rock hard, inflamed and filled with tiny lumps. Worst thing is, nothing came out. I’ve been averaging 120ml per session, but after 45 minutes, I was still at 20ml. The next morning, I came down with a flu and a fever. A quick check on google and apparently, these are all symptoms of blocked ducts. And check this out, if left untreated, it could develop into mastitis, which is NOT GOOD. You don’t want to mess with a name like mastitis.

Despite the pain, I’ve been back to a 3-hour expressing schedule, even through the night. And I have to battle a flu at the same time. Just like that, there goes my dreams of sleeping through the night. Now I can only look on with envy as my 9-week-old sleeps like a baby for 10 straight hours, while I’m banished to breast purgatory.

I never thought breastfeeding would be this hard. After going through all that initial teething problems, I though I had paid my dues but it just keeps getting worse. I only hope all that “Breast is best” propaganda is true, then at least it would all be worth it. If not, I’m seriously going to set fire to the person who came up with it.

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motherhood

All in a day’s work

August 31, 2009

When folks find out that I’m a stay home mom with a 15 month old toddler and a 2 month old infant AND no maid, they have one of the following reactions.

1. Wide-eyed wonder. “Are you out of your mind? (Like WHY ARE YOU EVEN HAVING KIDS BACK TO BACK? Haven’t you heard of birth control, woman?)”

2. Sympathy. “I feel for you, I truly do. But seriously, go get some birth control.”

3. More sympathy. “Poor thing, betcha can’t find a job and you’re just sitting your ass down at home chilling out instead of contributing to our sluggish economy.” (Oh, trust me, I am contributing. It’s called shopping.)

So they want to know how I do it. What really goes on in this war zone I call home. Weekends notwithstanding because Superdad is around to take over, I am solely responsible for the well-being of my little munchkins (down with the wicked witch!).

I usually start my day with a cold shower – for the sleep deprivation, a cuppa – for the nerves, and a hair net – for the crazy hair. I also try to clear my system in the morning because that’s all the toilet action I’ll be having for the day. And then the fun begins.

5.30 – Express Milk. Engorgement is usually at its worst so it takes a good hour to clear the ducts.

6.45 – Kirsten wakes up for milk.

7.30 – Tru wakes up for milk. Kirsten goes back to bed.

8.15 – Breakfast with the husband and Tru.

8.45 – Superdad goes to work. More milk expressing.

9.45 – Tru goes down for his nap. Kirsten wakes up for a feed.

10.30 – Shower and play time for Kirsten while I cook lunch for Tru.

11.30 – Kirsten goes back to bed and I blitz around the house trying to squeeze in the laundry and cleaning.

12.00 – Tru wakes up in time for lunch. I feed him while expressing my milk.

1.00 – Tru’s bath time, followed by an hour of song and dance. This is where I perfect my Mickey Mouse impressions.

2.00 – Kirsten wakes up for a feed and I have 2 kids thronging me for attention.

2.30 – Tru takes his second nap. (He usually plays in his cot alone for 30 mins before sleeping) Play time with Kirsten. Here’s where I show off my already perfected Mother Goose impressions, complete with high-pitched Nursery Rhymes and storytelling. Mostly, she just looks at me like I’m off my rocker. See what I did there? Pun totally intended.

3.30 – Kirsten goes back to sleep. I shove some food down my throat and express milk at the same time, followed by a quick shower.

4. 30 – Tru wakes up. TV time on Playhouse Disney.

5.00 – Kirsten wakes up for milk and Tru runs amok in the living room.

5.30 – Tru takes his dinner while Kirsten rocks out to her cot mobile.

6.30 – Kirsten goes back to bed and Tru takes shower #2.

7.00 – Tru goes to bed for the night. You would think here’s when I finally get to prop my legs up, let my hair down and pat myself on the back for another day survived. But you’d be wrong, because 7pm is the witching hour for my sweet little baby girl. Every night at a certain hour, she will wake from her stupor and turn into the Bride of Chucky   and no amount of love and attention will pacify her. So she’s practically stuck to my hip screaming from 7-11, sometimes 12. The strangest thing is once it hits midnight, she turns back into a little angel and falls asleep without the slightest whimper.

12.00 – Kirsten gets her last feed, I express my milk and crawl slowly into bed.

And all this is considered a good day, which happens like once a week. On bad days, there will be tantrums, food slinging, vomiting, screaming, yelling and kicking. I told you, it’s the toughest job in the world.

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motherhood

Version 2.0

August 20, 2009

Having babies change you. And I’m not talking about the obvious ones like the additional 30 pounds of fats or how my thighs will never be cellulite free again, or how my boobs are no longer tiny and perky. The changes are subtle. They kinda sneak up on you and before you know it, BAM! And I’m like I don’t even recognize this person looking back at me in the mirror anymore. How did I get here? I liked the old me. The old me was fun and loved to party and didn’t talk about kids all the time and drank coffee with wild abandon.

Without realizing it, I had morphed into one of those middle-aged homely mothers whose life I used to scoff at. I used to say that having kids won’t make a difference to my life and I’d still be as cool as ever. Boy, was I wrong.

1. Mornings… what mornings?

For as long as I could remember, I hated mornings. You’d have to drag me out by the hair kicking and screaming to make me get up before 10am. Most days I’d be sleeping in till noon and waking up just in time for lunch. When the husband and I were still dating back in college, he asked me out to see the sunrise one morning (his idea of being romantic and all). In response, I grunted something like “You want me to get up at 6am to DO WHAT?” and that was the last time he ever asked. True story.

But recently, I’ve come to like mornings. I get to spend time having a leisurely breakfast with my boy and still have time to get plenty of things done before the madness peaks at noon. I’ve also learnt to treasure the moments of respite just before day breaks. It’s so peaceful and quiet. The air is fresh and I can almost hear the stillness of the morning. Love it.

2. Home sweet home

Being out late was like a prerequisite of having fun. It didn’t matter what the activity was – drinks, movies, clubs, loitering the streets like some sort of delinquent. I suppose part of the reason was because we just wanted to spend time together for as long as possible and being out sure beat being chaperoned at home. That all changed after we got married. Now, we’d rather snuggle up on the sofa to watch a movie or laze in bed.

With kids in the picture, it’s even worse. Going out is like preparing for war. By the time we reach the mall, we’d be so exhausted that all we want to do is turn around and go home.

3. Coffee addict

Hi, my name is Daphne and I’m a coffeeholic. I used to live on coffee and nothing else. I could knock back 7-8 cups a day without flinching (sometimes without eating). When I first discovered I was pregnant with Tru and had to give up coffee, I suffered from severe withdrawal for the entire first month. I felt like my life had lost its meaning. I’d wake up in the morning and reach out for a cuppa, only to realize that it was off limits and end up sulking for the rest of the day, being all edgy and irritable. Having abstained from coffee for 2 years, I’m glad to say that I’m now coffee-free and still happy. Wait till I get my hands on the Nespresso machine and things might change, but for now, my life doesn’t stop without caffeine.

4. Cooking mama

If I could help it, I’d never step into the kitchen (except to make coffee) because cooking is the bane of my existence. The marketing, preparation, cooking and the truckload of cleaning that follows. After that, there’ll be that layer of oil and grime that coats the entire kitchen. Urgh. I like my food to magically appear in front of me and disappear the way it came after I’m done with it.

Having kids change that. They need to eat and it’s impossible to not cook at all. Well, I did consider feeding them processed baby food, but my sense of responsibility got the better of me. So I dutifully whip up nutritious meals EVERYDAY and in a weird way, I’ve come to enjoy it. I feel a tremendous sense of achievement every time I successfully add a new dish to my repertoire. At the rate I’m going, soon Tru will be able to have something other than fish porridge everyday.

I could think of a thousand other ways being a parent has changed me. I can see myself evolving and sometimes I try to cling on to the old me so I can feel young again. I suppose we’ve all got to grow up sometime. I just wish it didn’t happen so soon.

PS. On a completely unrelated note, I just got my iPhone 3G(S) and it is absolutely divine. It has singlehandedly brought out my inner geek. Steve Jobs is my hero.

PPS. Steve Jobs is not really my hero. Superdad is my hero.

PPPS. I had to sneak that in because he bought me the iPhone. Also, he’s taking the night feeds tonight.

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motherhood

Babywise saved my life

August 17, 2009

Parenting is the kind of thing they don’t teach you in school. As parents, we stumble and grope our way in the darkness, unsure of whether we’re doing the right thing all the time. It doesn’t help that there are a thousand different (often contrasting) parenting methods, each claiming to be THE REVOLUTIONARY parenting style. To top that off, our parents have their own ideas of how to raise kids, seeing that we turned out somewhat normal (normal being a matter of perspective, of course).

So is there a right parenting style, or do all roads lead to Rome? As long as we’re not Hitler or Joseph Walter Jackson, does it really matter if we co-sleep with the baby or let him cry it out? I am of the opinion that kids don’t remember a smidgen of what went on in the first 2 years of their lives and these decisions really end up affecting the parents more than the kids.

Before Tru was born, a friend introduced me to a book called On Becoming Babywise and that has been my bible as far as parenting goes. At first, it seemed like the hardest parenting advice I’ve ever heard, but upon witnessing the effects it produced, we were completely sold. 14 months in, we’ve never looked back and it is perhaps the only reason why we even considered having Kirsten 4 months after Tru was born.

In a nutshell, Babywise advocates parent-directed parenting, which places the responsibility of parenting squarely on the parents and not the kids. This is opposed to child-directed parenting, where they believe babies know what they want and parents should react to their babies’ cries at the drop of a hat, sending them into a frenzy every time the baby so much as whimpers. BABIES DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY WANT.

How it translates into actual parenting is this:

1. Babies cry. It’s what they do and there’s no getting around it. It’s also not the end of the world. It’s the only way they know how to communicate and crying is normal. Ok, it sends my blood pressure into overdrive, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not going to kill them.

2. Babies need a routine. Simply reacting to their cries makes parenting a real pain. Without a proper schedule, it could be due to a plethora of reasons, and chances are, we’ll pick the wrong solution. A routine helps to eliminate factors, making it easier to identify why the baby is crying.

3. Sleep has to be taught. It may seem like the most natural thing in the world but trust me, extended sleep is a skill that must be learnt. If babies have it their way, they would sleep for 3 hour stretches for the first 5 years of their lives and the number of parents committing harakiri will go up exponentially.

4. Independence is important. This whole babies need an extended womb theory is nonsense. If babies needed to be in the womb, they would stay in the womb and not come out. Now that they’re out, we don’t need to create an artificial womb and have them attached to our bodies 24/7.

The truth is, babies that learn to sleep well on their own end up being happy, cheerful, smart and independent. But the process of learning is well, PAINFUL as hell (for the parents) and it involves copious amounts of wailing and screaming (by both parties).

From day 1, my kids are placed in their own cots to sleep WHILE THEY ARE AWAKE and this makes me wildly unpopular. The idea is that they have to learn to fall asleep on their own without being rocked or carried. The benefits are twofold. It means that I don’t have to carry them for hours to induce sleep, only to have them wake up and scream once I lower them into the cot. Also, it will help them to fall back asleep if they wake up in the middle of the night. Of course it’s met by tremendous resistance and Tru had a legendary 6-hour crying session on a particularly trying day. I was pacing the floor outside his room screaming into a pillow and every 10 minutes, I would go into the room to pacify him. He only fell asleep after 6 hours.

But he’s come a long way since then. He’s been sleeping through the night since he was 12 weeks old, and nap times aren’t painful. When it’s time for a nap, I can put him down in his cot while he’s wide awake and walk out. Some days, he’ll talk to his soft toys for an hour before he falls asleep, but there’s none of that cot-resistance.

In a way, it’s a matter of necessity. With 2 kids, I simply do not have the time to carry them to sleep. But more importantly, it has done wonders for my sanity as well as my marriage. With the kids down for the night at 7pm, we get to spend quality time alone in the evenings instead of being flustered and exhausted. The best part is, with good sleep, Tru is like a ball of sunshine in the daytime, making it a breeze to watch him (that being relative as well).

In another 2-3 weeks, I’m hoping Kirsten will adjust to sleeping through the night as well. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in 5 weeks and it’s killing me. Any more of this and I’ll be too high strung to take care of the kids without snapping at them all day. A happy mommy results in happy kids.

So yes, Babywise saved my life.

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motherhood

10 things I love about you

August 13, 2009

To my princess,

A month ago, I was screaming my head off in the delivery ward being all unglamorous and trying to push an entire human being out of my body. In the moments of respite between contractions, I would close my eyes and imagine how life would be like with you in my arms, to hold you and smell you and get to know you. Right now, those moments seem like a lifetime ago and I can’t imagine life without you in the picture.

It’s been an entire month of unspeakable insanity but in the midst of the sleep deprivation, postpartum depression and accursed hormone fluctuations, I’ve had the most wonderful time just looking at you and loving you.

On this first month milestone, here’s Mommy’s list of the top 10 things I absolutely LOVE about you.

1. The way your tiny little mouth breaks into a giant smile after you finish your milk. I had no idea your mouth was capable of opening that wide to accommodate that grin. And who cares if it’s gas, it’s nice to be smiled at anyway.

2. Your lovely baby smell right after a shower (even though it doesn’t last long – but that’s fine, I dont take that well to heat myself).

3. For not blinding and killing me with your poop. Have I said that I was eternally grateful? Yes, I am.

4. How you let me hold you for as long as I want without squirming or trying to break free. I’ve never had that with your brother.

5. The way you settle so comfortably on my chest. It’s the only way to calm you down on those particularly fussy nights.

6. Your chubby cheeks that’s always threatening to eat up your entire face. Also, sorry I bit your cheeks so many times. I can’t help it. I’m taking medication for that.

7. The way your itsy bitsy fingers grab on to my shirt/bra/hair/skin so tightly just as I’m attempting to put you in your cot. “No, mommy, nooooooo”

8. How you pout your quivering lips right before you break into the scream of your life like a prelude of what’s to come. That totally cracks me up.

9. Your ability to sit in the baby chair for extended stretches without fussing while your brother takes his turn at tormenting me.

10. The look of adoration you reserve for your daddy and me. That, to me, is worth all the madness in the world.

You, baby girl, are the beating of my heart.

With all the love in the world,

Mommy

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literally a crappy post, motherhood

Wholly Crap!

August 11, 2009
Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

So, my kids have developed a new game, which is to see who can produce more poop in a day. It used to be that Kirsten was hands down the champion in that division, since breastmilk makes her defecate 6-7 times a day, which she tries to reserve for the times her diaper is off. Occasionally, when she is all out of poop, she can produce foam from her ass. Oh, trust me, I didn’ t think it was possible either, until I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES.

Ever since Tru started taking the ancient Chinese herbs, his bowel movements have also been miraculously multiplied. I’m attributing it to the detoxification process. Instead of the usual package he delivers once a day, it has recently gone up to a record 6 packs of poop. All I can say is that I hope this detox is doing some good to his system. Or else I’d be cleaning extra crap for no reason at all.

So the other day, in the midst of the mayhem that goes on in my house, Tru somehow managed to smear his crap all over the back of his romper. It also had to happen when I was momentarily otherwise engaged with feeding the little one so I could only watch in horror as he made patches of crap stains all over my living room with his ass. See, I’ve heard of finger painting but this is a real first. I was all like “Tru, Nooooooooooooo, don’t sit down!”, but of course the shock from my outburst had him landing flat on his ass. He then got up, crawled a few steps and sat right back down again. Rinse and repeat. Until my living room was covered with a layer of ass-shaped crap designs. If you ask me, it trumps his last masterpiece.

Not to be outdone, Kirsten had her own version of crap-smearing. After numerous accidents on my bed, I’ve shifted her nappy changing area to the couch in the living room. The good thing is that I don’t have to keep changing bedsheets but the flip side is that my faux leather sofa is now infested with all kinds of bodily fluids. From experience, I’ve learnt to anticipate the jet stream of poop that flies out during her nappy changes, but after 5 minutes and nothing, I thought it wasn’t going to happen. But just as I swiped the diaper from under her bum, lo and behold, a fresh stream of mustard mash gushed out and almost hit me in the eye. It’s only thanks to my ninja reflexes that I’m still alive at this moment. Inevitably, the shit hit the fan (except that it was the floor, stool,  remote control, and some parts of my body).

I suppose it could have been worse. Tru could have been around when it happened (he was sound asleep) and he would have had a field day grabbing it and smearing it liberally on multiple surfaces. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I used to be terrified of cleaning crap but 2 kids in, we’re now practically best friends. Like real tight.

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motherhood

My kid went through ancient Chinese torture

August 10, 2009

I love long weekends but this one is turning out to be the worst long weekend ever. Now I wish it was a short weekend. First, Tru was taken ill with a flu of the most massive proportions. Then I broke my specs so it’s got a huge crack on the right lens and it keeps slipping off my nose and I have to keep pushing it back up like some gawky kid (the husband wants me to fix it asap as I also apparently look like the victim of domestic abuse.  And Kirsten has been terribly cranky, refusing to sleep and screaming away for extended periods.

After hearing a lot of good stuff about traditional chinese medicine, we decided to bring Tru for a consult. Believe it or not, the doctors are called physicians and this one had a particularly deadly name – Peng Ya Ling (whom I suspect was a former pugilist master). I was half expecting her to channel some “qi” (internal energy) into his system and attack his acupuncture points, but it was all pretty mild. All she did was look very thoughftul and  scribble furiously on her notepad while we explained all his symptoms. After that, she came back with a concoction of 25 herbs and spices in 14 neat little packs. On another note, despite his illness, Tru decided to turn on the charm and spent the whole consult flirting with her, touching her hand and smiling at her. Little Casanova.

Returning home with the meds, we were instructed to feed him the powder twice a day for 7 days. Now how does one feed POWDER to a BABY? The husband had a couple of ingenious ideas.

Husband: Maybe we should add it to his milk.

Me: He’s not stupid. He’ll refuse the milk and after that we’ll have to struggle with feeding him milk.

Husband: I know, we can add it to peanut butter to disguise the taste.

Me: Oh i know, i know- how about putting it into a piece of bread and rolling it up?

Husband: I think we’re just going to have to go primitive.

The first attempt, we tried adding water to it and then feeding him with a syringe, except that we added way too much water and he had ingest 15 full syringes of meds. The whole time, we had to pin him down and force open his mouth while he was screaming and kicking like he was being tortured.

The next round, I wised up and decided to go with a spoon. I also added less water to the mix so it ended up like a HUGE CLUMP OF HERBY PASTE. The screaming and kicking continued and this time, the clump was so huge that he puked it all out and there we were, trying to force back the puke into his mouth. I felt like a Nazi.

it looked like this - except worse. I kid you not.

it looked like this - except worse. I kid you not.

We can”t quite post an actual picture, just in case Social Services hauls us down for an interrogation.

I think the whole experience traumatized him so much that for the rest of the day, he was suffering from panic attacks, resulting in random screams throughout a day. And as I found out, crankiness is contagious. The screaming rubbed off on Kirsten and she too decided to join in the fun.

So that’s how my weekend went. Hang on while I push up my specs. I hope I don’t develop a lazy eye from having to see through one eye.

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