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spa

pregnancy

Somebody please tell me how to make the baby come out

July 6, 2009

Seriously, the waiting is KILLING ME. I’ve tried every natural birth induction method (except acupuncture because you will have to kill me before I’m allowing anyone to stick needles in my body) since friday and none of it is working. I have been more or less confined to the toilet for some serious business, but other than that, there isn’t even the slightest sign that Kirsten is coming out.

It’s probably way too comfy inside, what with all the goodies I’ve been feeding her and all that water to swim around in. It’s like a permanent spa. Come to think of it, I’d probably not want to come out if I were her.

I haven’t the slightest clue what labor feels like and I’ve been asking everyone who’s ever given birth to describe it to me. The forums aren’t that helpful either. Some say it feels like you need to take a massive crap, and others say it’s like the mother of all menstrual cramps. It’s supposed to be a dull, throbbing pain that comes and goes every few minutes. Mostly, the consensus is that the pain is so bad you lose all control of your mental faculties.

Not that helpful, cos my stomach feels like its in knots all the time. And with the amount of laxatives I’ve been taking, I seriously can’t tell the difference. Every time I feel some tightening in my stomach, I wash my hair and prepare to fly down to the hospital, but apparently, none of it is the real thing. I’m still here and Kirsten is still inside. And now I’ve got really clean hair.

When I last checked on Thursday, she’d already hit 3.3kg, which is already bigger than Tru was when he was born. At the rate she’s going, I’m going to have to squeeze a 4 kg monster of a child out of my thing, which also increases the risk of a wound rupture, which means that I could end up waiting all this time and having to go for another c-section. Gah!

I’m so desperate I’ve even tried to go all new age and visualize my cervix opening up like a flower, (complete with the nirvana music, as I would like to call it) although half the time I’m giggling at how retarded the mental image is.

Now I’ve missed the 4th of July and I can’t show off having an independence day baby. I’ll just end up having my kid on another boring, non-cool date. I hate it when that happens.

And it’s all thanks to my uncooperative cervix.

by Daphne

motherhood

Happy Mother’s Day!

May 8, 2009

It’s finally mother’s day this Sunday. A time to celebrate moms and their supreme awesomeness.

I feel like it’s been a long time coming. I haven’t even been a mom for a whole year and it seems like I’ve been waiting endlessly for my first real mother’s day. I’d like to say that the rewards of motherhood are sufficient to make up for everything, but if you ask me, I’m desperately in need of some pampering and something wrapped up in a bow.

I’m expecting to wake up at 11 am to a sumptuous breakfast in bed and a little blue box with something sparkly inside. Tru will be all fed, changed and ready for his morning nap. After getting smothered with hugs and kisses, I’ll be whisked off for a manicure and a massage, followed by a relaxing bath of goat’s milk.

No diapers, no laundry, no food-slinging and certainly no screaming or whining.

Even then, it’s hardly a fair exchange. A day off to relax at a spa and some diamonds is not fair trade for 364 days of hair-pulling and hemorrhoids. But I’ll take it because it says “you deserve it cos are the most amazing human being on the face of this earth”.

Having recently been admitted to the elite club reserved only for the brave souls who dared to venture into the world of motherhood, it feels different being on the other side, as it were. Like most experiences, you need to be in it to fully comprehend what it really means. I used to hear moms talk about all their mothery stuff and I can try to look sympathetic, but it doesn’t really sink in.

But now, I GET IT. They can talk about 6-hour screaming fits and I totally understand. When Tru was sick and couldn’t fall asleep, I was holding him for 6 hours straight till I was sure my arms weren’t there anymore. I hear about nappy rash and projectile vomiting and I’ve literally been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, took the photo.

It’s like how doctors have their Hippocratic Oath. Mothers also have a code of conduct that they swear to keep the moment the kid pops. In summary, it goes like this. “I shall henceforth cease to exist as a free-spirited individual and place my kids over and above my own needs for the next 18 years. In short, I will become Mother Teresa.”

Only on Mother’s Day, we get a moment of brief respite. To sit back and bask in the adoration and gratitude. So to all the mothers out there, MILK IT FOR ALL IT’S WORTH because it’s over all too soon. Savor every moment and have a brilliant day.

by Daphne

A Hair-Raising Affair

March 13, 2009

It’s that time of the month again. The dreaded haircut. For me, a haircut is like a head spa. I’ve got a people fussing over my hair, giving me a head massage while I sip my earl grey and catch up on Cosmo, plus I walk away with a nice do.

Not quite the same story for my son. He hates having itsy hair bits stuck to his face and neck and he’ll squirm like an eel out of water.

The last time he had a haircut, it didn’t go very well. Peruse specimen A.

Despite telling the stylist (I’m being generous with the term here) not to take off too much from the fringe and the sides, she completely butchered his hair with her evil shaver. And I still had to pay $16 for it.

For almost a month, he had to go around LOOKING LIKE MR. SPOCK. Peruse specimen B.

This time, I wasn’t taking any chances, and I decided to cut his hair myself. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m talented in so many ways. Anyway, how difficult can a haircut be? I’ve seen them do it a hundred times, just grab a bunch between my fingers and snip away.

Before you decide to work on your own hair, you might want to start with your dog, cos it’s kinda tougher than it looks. The squirming was uncontrollable, and half the time I was close to dislodging his eye. And once you start, you can’t just abandon ship halfway, or it’ll look like he got attacked by a rabid dog.

After about an hour, we stood back and surveyed the final product. It was really not bad at all, for a virgin attempt.

*Excuse me while I go show off my chef d’oeuvre.

by Daphne

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