Noone told me what it was like to transition away from your single child and into the vast endless universe of two.
At week three of new sibling, our lady has hit the wall.
"No More Brother!" to quote her, precisely.
What can I say to her? The baby is kind of dependent on me for survival. Not her problem though.
I understand her pain, but the new kid on the block deserves a chance.
Complicated!
Summary at this point in time: it's raining, both are asleep much too late in the day, I have Tom Waits and a glass of red wine. Hmmm.
Seems a wiser activity choice than reading any literature that assures me all of this is 'normal'.
Am ready with open arms for the day when post-partum hormonal imbalance has finally passed, my girl is happy with her mini-universe, and we settle into the groove of abnormal, underslept, transitional, new-baby life for a little while.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Assured transition to mild insanity.
Okay, so the love hormones have passed. It was nice while they were there.
And now?
Now I find myself insisting on 5 minutes of silence just as soon as it is plausible. I refuse to take any questions or conversation openers from my co-parent, I close the door. And I sit quietly, enjoying the minutes as they pass with noone wanting anything from me. Usually this moment comes at about 9.45pm each day.
Um, is this normal?
Of course if you read any literature that canvasses the minefield of family life, babies, kids etc, you will find something that tells you almost any experience, thought or sensation is 'normal'. I say there is no normal in this most chaotic, insane of times. Creation of a new human being is no small feat, neither is ensuring ongoing survival of new bundle as the days and weeks roll on.
The days are all passing in a blur at the moment. I just finished an email with "have a great weekend", before it dawned on me it was Tuesday. I think it is Christmas soon, but I can't be sure. Coffee and enormous donuts are my staple, and yes - I suspect there is a paragraph in a patronising book somewhere that states "addiction to caffeine and trans-fats at this stage of post-partum is completely normal and to be expected". So I will continue. To simply survive.
Another thing - hapless members of the public seem to feel as free to comment on the physical appearance of the post-partum woman in much the same way as they did when she/I was about 11 months pregnant.
Eg:
Hapless yet happy citizen to me:
"Oh wow, you're doing well to be out and about"
Me:
"Thanks!"
Inside my head:
"WTF do you think I should be doing? Slowly dying in the privacy of my own home under a 100kg pile of used nappies?"
Eg:
Hapless yet happy citizen to me:
"Gee, you don't look like you've just given birth."
Me:
"Thanks!"
Inside my head:
"Yeah, I have actually showered and washed off the afterbirth since delivery."
Only another 12 months of broken sleep and we will be in the clear!
Yes, it is an amazing experience. Yes, we do it for the love.
But just don't tell me this is 'normal'.
It is anything but!
And now?
Now I find myself insisting on 5 minutes of silence just as soon as it is plausible. I refuse to take any questions or conversation openers from my co-parent, I close the door. And I sit quietly, enjoying the minutes as they pass with noone wanting anything from me. Usually this moment comes at about 9.45pm each day.
Um, is this normal?
Of course if you read any literature that canvasses the minefield of family life, babies, kids etc, you will find something that tells you almost any experience, thought or sensation is 'normal'. I say there is no normal in this most chaotic, insane of times. Creation of a new human being is no small feat, neither is ensuring ongoing survival of new bundle as the days and weeks roll on.
The days are all passing in a blur at the moment. I just finished an email with "have a great weekend", before it dawned on me it was Tuesday. I think it is Christmas soon, but I can't be sure. Coffee and enormous donuts are my staple, and yes - I suspect there is a paragraph in a patronising book somewhere that states "addiction to caffeine and trans-fats at this stage of post-partum is completely normal and to be expected". So I will continue. To simply survive.
Another thing - hapless members of the public seem to feel as free to comment on the physical appearance of the post-partum woman in much the same way as they did when she/I was about 11 months pregnant.
Eg:
Hapless yet happy citizen to me:
"Oh wow, you're doing well to be out and about"
Me:
"Thanks!"
Inside my head:
"WTF do you think I should be doing? Slowly dying in the privacy of my own home under a 100kg pile of used nappies?"
Eg:
Hapless yet happy citizen to me:
"Gee, you don't look like you've just given birth."
Me:
"Thanks!"
Inside my head:
"Yeah, I have actually showered and washed off the afterbirth since delivery."
Only another 12 months of broken sleep and we will be in the clear!
Yes, it is an amazing experience. Yes, we do it for the love.
But just don't tell me this is 'normal'.
It is anything but!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
A birth.
Our boy has been born. Now our family has a small pink grunting bundle that comes with us everywhere, and I am lucky enough to once again experience the total euphoria, confusion, emotion, love and fatigue that a new small person brings to your life.
I smell his head, and it reminds me of exactly the same period in life when our girl was a week or two old. Such a distinctive and warm smell, and it links my present directly with the past of two years ago. Amazing.
I lie in bed at night listening to the chorus of grunts coming from the basket, and happily drift off to sleep knowing he is happy, as opposed to listening for every breath, to ensure there is life. Oh how I am loving the added comfort that comes with kind of knowing what I am doing this time.
And there is so much love flowing in all directions. It is beautiful to have created siblings that will grow together, and it is so awesome to have done it with my partner on the dancefloor. Happily, we have adjusted to a life together as parents, and I feel less inclined to kick his sleeping body in the bed while doing a 2am feed this time around.
We both still wonder how we ended up with two car seats in the back of a station wagon .... it all seemed to happen so fast. We were cool and fun and happening not that long ago!
And now - we are family.
It totally rocks.
Feeling the love love love from all angles.
I smell his head, and it reminds me of exactly the same period in life when our girl was a week or two old. Such a distinctive and warm smell, and it links my present directly with the past of two years ago. Amazing.
I lie in bed at night listening to the chorus of grunts coming from the basket, and happily drift off to sleep knowing he is happy, as opposed to listening for every breath, to ensure there is life. Oh how I am loving the added comfort that comes with kind of knowing what I am doing this time.
And there is so much love flowing in all directions. It is beautiful to have created siblings that will grow together, and it is so awesome to have done it with my partner on the dancefloor. Happily, we have adjusted to a life together as parents, and I feel less inclined to kick his sleeping body in the bed while doing a 2am feed this time around.
We both still wonder how we ended up with two car seats in the back of a station wagon .... it all seemed to happen so fast. We were cool and fun and happening not that long ago!
And now - we are family.
It totally rocks.
Feeling the love love love from all angles.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Not so captivated by the 'mystery' of mother nature at this point in time.
It would be true to say the tail end of pregnancy really bites. So I shall - these remaining days are not golden in the slightest. I've run out of things to do. Time for a new baby now!
The bump is so huge, it is independent of my old body. I kind of look like a siamese twin. Is that in bad taste? I don't even care anymore.
Nights in the bed require a hoist to get from left to right.
Adult love requires drawings, plans and compasses to figure it all out, and as such is best abandoned.
Who are we kidding?
I suppose I should be relieved that I got what I hoped for - no early bird arrivals. Very happy for this to be the case for the 12 or so hours I ended up being alone, but with all bases well and truly covered for imminent childbirth ever since, pass me the stirrups! You know?
The bump is so huge, it is independent of my old body. I kind of look like a siamese twin. Is that in bad taste? I don't even care anymore.
Nights in the bed require a hoist to get from left to right.
Adult love requires drawings, plans and compasses to figure it all out, and as such is best abandoned.
Who are we kidding?
I suppose I should be relieved that I got what I hoped for - no early bird arrivals. Very happy for this to be the case for the 12 or so hours I ended up being alone, but with all bases well and truly covered for imminent childbirth ever since, pass me the stirrups! You know?
Friday, October 28, 2011
Red and green.
I always thought I would need a bit of a re-entry period on Australian roads after spending two years driving up and down the same roads at an average speed of 50km per hour in PNG. And even in my seemingly unacclimatised state, I understood that driving at that speed everywhere in Australia would not be the right thing to do.
So, to blend in and drive like my countrymen, I have been doing the full speed-limit, even though it terrifies me. On the odd occasion that I have been between 0-5 km under the speed limit, I have had a helpful bonnet up the ass of my car to remind me this is simply not done. Thanks Canberra drivers.
This, I expected.
What has surprised me somewhat though, is that I seem to have lost comprehension of traffic lights. I would happily sail through a red if it wasn't for terrified passengers screaming at me to stop. This, I also know is a 'shortcoming' in my general driving skill set. I'm more big-picture when it comes to lights, and am usually concentrating on something five blocks ahead.
This, I also knew about myself (on a deeper level that I rarely explore honestly).
Two days ago, I came to a full stop on approach to a green light, and stayed there while the light remained happily green. I think I was trying really hard to take each set of lights as they came, and not overlook important messages.
This is new.
And not very good.
Unbelievably, there was no concerned citizen sitting behind me screaming soundlessly from their 80 thousand dollar Commodore as there so often is. Again, it was up to my passenger to alert me to the green-ness of the light.
I carefully accelerated and proceeded to the next set of lights, in a bit of a state.
My Mum has now told my daughter to help me at the traffic lights. Thanks team.
Only a few weeks ago, it was me teaching her about the meaning of red and green. In a few short days I have lost any credibility I may have had, and now sit back and take tutorship from the one who knows best.
At least I know my limits.
So, to blend in and drive like my countrymen, I have been doing the full speed-limit, even though it terrifies me. On the odd occasion that I have been between 0-5 km under the speed limit, I have had a helpful bonnet up the ass of my car to remind me this is simply not done. Thanks Canberra drivers.
This, I expected.
What has surprised me somewhat though, is that I seem to have lost comprehension of traffic lights. I would happily sail through a red if it wasn't for terrified passengers screaming at me to stop. This, I also know is a 'shortcoming' in my general driving skill set. I'm more big-picture when it comes to lights, and am usually concentrating on something five blocks ahead.
This, I also knew about myself (on a deeper level that I rarely explore honestly).
Two days ago, I came to a full stop on approach to a green light, and stayed there while the light remained happily green. I think I was trying really hard to take each set of lights as they came, and not overlook important messages.
This is new.
And not very good.
Unbelievably, there was no concerned citizen sitting behind me screaming soundlessly from their 80 thousand dollar Commodore as there so often is. Again, it was up to my passenger to alert me to the green-ness of the light.
I carefully accelerated and proceeded to the next set of lights, in a bit of a state.
My Mum has now told my daughter to help me at the traffic lights. Thanks team.
Only a few weeks ago, it was me teaching her about the meaning of red and green. In a few short days I have lost any credibility I may have had, and now sit back and take tutorship from the one who knows best.
At least I know my limits.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
The home stretch
Our baby is coming soon, and we have entered the final leg of the up-the-duff journey. With four or five weeks at most remaining, the anticipation/anxiety is building. Why anxious? I am plagued with fear that I will have to deliver baby alone in shower while my two year old looks on wide-eyed and terrified. Horrific. If I could seal the exit area with gaffer tape until such time as Daddy-O arrived in the country to join us, I would.
To counter these fears in the interim, I have modified my nine month preggers walk (limping, hunched, waddle-like ... not what you would see at fashion week, for instance) - to include a supportive and firm hand at the base of my bump. This lets the little one know that while we eagerly await its arrival, we are not quite ready. As they told me at pre-natal yoga (last time around, no such indulgences this time) ... "bonding begins in the womb". Indeed it does, and my message is loud and clear - the door is not open for you yet, my child.
In other news, it has only taken me 36 weeks to realise that turning sideways no longer enables me to slip through small enclosed spaces, like between seats and tables at a restaurant for example. Gee, I really kept that up for much longer than was spatially appropriate and have swatted many a head and cornice with my ever growing (and dropping) bump. Sideways = wider. Repeat to self.
I bought a dress today from my favourite shop in Lennox Head .... http://www.rileyburnett.com/gallery/index.html
I need things that move, and do not touch me in any way. The guy tried to talk it up, from a fashion point of view, but I felt I had to describe it as 'sufficiently sack like'. Let's be honest. My bump was between us like an additional shelf unit at the time of the sale ... I will be ready to talk about fashion again in about five months from now. He still threw in some free hairclips for my little lady which was nice (and he was obviously unbothered by her parading around the shop wearing various bangles and holding a clutch under her armpit). I must admit, I was quite proud of how she held the clutch - how does one figure this stuff out?
Last night in the shitfight (there is no other word for it) of getting this over-tired two year old ready for bed (bath, pyjamas, teeth, comb hair, read book, apply cream to sore bits, nappy) with just myself and my bump for company, the time came for me to give her a hard lesson in the facts of life. With lightening speed (quite amazing since she was much too tired to coordinate or focus on anything else AT ALL) she snatched her toothbrush from me "I WILL BRUSH TEETH BY MYSELF", threw it in the toilet, and flushed it away, before I could put my hand in to get it out (yes, I did actually contemplate doing this ... for environmental reasons not because I thought it was okay for her to reuse it after a dust-off!). Oh I was angry!
Her little blue eyes stared up at me, she burst into tears and then said she wanted it back. There was no sympathy from my corner. Only some words outlining the huge ring of plastic crap that swirls around and around in a far-off corner of the Pacific Ocean. There, her blue train toothbrush would end up. And a big beautiful fish would think it was food and eat it and probably die.
I think the message got through, her eyes were downcast, and she contemplated my wisdom that her actions have "far greater consequences" than just the immediate. We are all part of the world and our personal choices should not be seen as isolated from bigger environmental .... blah blah blah. She was asleep in about five minutes. I hope I didn't bore her too much.
Never too young to learn about the cycle of the universe!
Until next time ... I will be finishing off my uni semester (even though I can really no longer read or write and am desperately seeking opportunities to simply lie down and rub my belly), and repeating my new mantra ... stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in.
To counter these fears in the interim, I have modified my nine month preggers walk (limping, hunched, waddle-like ... not what you would see at fashion week, for instance) - to include a supportive and firm hand at the base of my bump. This lets the little one know that while we eagerly await its arrival, we are not quite ready. As they told me at pre-natal yoga (last time around, no such indulgences this time) ... "bonding begins in the womb". Indeed it does, and my message is loud and clear - the door is not open for you yet, my child.
In other news, it has only taken me 36 weeks to realise that turning sideways no longer enables me to slip through small enclosed spaces, like between seats and tables at a restaurant for example. Gee, I really kept that up for much longer than was spatially appropriate and have swatted many a head and cornice with my ever growing (and dropping) bump. Sideways = wider. Repeat to self.
I bought a dress today from my favourite shop in Lennox Head .... http://www.rileyburnett.com/gallery/index.html
I need things that move, and do not touch me in any way. The guy tried to talk it up, from a fashion point of view, but I felt I had to describe it as 'sufficiently sack like'. Let's be honest. My bump was between us like an additional shelf unit at the time of the sale ... I will be ready to talk about fashion again in about five months from now. He still threw in some free hairclips for my little lady which was nice (and he was obviously unbothered by her parading around the shop wearing various bangles and holding a clutch under her armpit). I must admit, I was quite proud of how she held the clutch - how does one figure this stuff out?
Last night in the shitfight (there is no other word for it) of getting this over-tired two year old ready for bed (bath, pyjamas, teeth, comb hair, read book, apply cream to sore bits, nappy) with just myself and my bump for company, the time came for me to give her a hard lesson in the facts of life. With lightening speed (quite amazing since she was much too tired to coordinate or focus on anything else AT ALL) she snatched her toothbrush from me "I WILL BRUSH TEETH BY MYSELF", threw it in the toilet, and flushed it away, before I could put my hand in to get it out (yes, I did actually contemplate doing this ... for environmental reasons not because I thought it was okay for her to reuse it after a dust-off!). Oh I was angry!
Her little blue eyes stared up at me, she burst into tears and then said she wanted it back. There was no sympathy from my corner. Only some words outlining the huge ring of plastic crap that swirls around and around in a far-off corner of the Pacific Ocean. There, her blue train toothbrush would end up. And a big beautiful fish would think it was food and eat it and probably die.
I think the message got through, her eyes were downcast, and she contemplated my wisdom that her actions have "far greater consequences" than just the immediate. We are all part of the world and our personal choices should not be seen as isolated from bigger environmental .... blah blah blah. She was asleep in about five minutes. I hope I didn't bore her too much.
Never too young to learn about the cycle of the universe!
Until next time ... I will be finishing off my uni semester (even though I can really no longer read or write and am desperately seeking opportunities to simply lie down and rub my belly), and repeating my new mantra ... stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in stay in.
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