Hard Going

It has been a tough two weeks. I swear I hit bottom at some point. 

Cabin fever finally caught up with me. Since I haven't introduced any bottles to Olivia yet, I can't be away from her much. The few times when I headed out for errands, I had to rush back to feed her. I have been avoiding nursing rooms, but I know I would have to get used to them soon so we can be out and about for longer stretch of time.

Then there are the breastfeeding hiccups to deal with. Olivia had watery green poo for a few days. She fed round the clock and slept so little (at least that was how I felt). Not sure if it was because she caught a bug, or due to the foremilk/hindmilk imbalance. I'm not ruling out allergies to something in my diet though I have no idea what that could be. Chili? She was probably also going through the 6-week growth spurt. 

I cheered when I finally saw the mustard-like, seedy poo again. But after a few days of that, the green poo showed up again yesterday. Now I'm wondering if she has diarrhea. She doesn't look dehydrated so I should just continue breastfeeding and observe her closely. It is just so frustrating not being able to pinpoint an exact cause. 

I must admit I'm disappointed too that the milk supply is still not established even though I've been latching baby on demand and expressing minimally only to relieve discomfort in the past 7 weeks. Her constant feeding during the growth spurt has increased the production even more, resulting in slight engorgement every few hours now. I hate the sensations of forceful letdowns and the tingling and shooting pains I feel when the breasts are filling up. Sigh. I miss the times when I get through the days without having to think about my boobs. Already, I can't wait to have them back. 

Adding to the woes were the squabbles I had with the family. Mum said some really hurtful and unreasonable things. It's a myth that mothers should know their kids well. Mine certainly doesn't. She is only capable of making up her own absurd conclusions based on her selective perception. It is pointless trying to explain anything to her. 

In fact, during my confinement, there were several disagreements initially because of our differences. Later I decided to close eyes, cover ears and shut my mouth in order to avoid further conflicts. 

I am still mulling over what she said and though it has been a week since our fight, it hasn't hurt any less. Looks like we won't be talking for a while. At least I know I can't bring myself to. It's a shame and kind of sad to think that she will be missing out on Olivia's growth. But that said, maybe she won't feel the same as I do. After all, she is the one who thinks that grandkids will be closer to her if they only get to see her once in a blue moon. 

What's also not helping my mood is how much I miss just hanging out with little Chip. Sometimes I felt a little left out as the boys played with daddy and I had to be stuck in the room nursing. By the time baby is sleeping and I am finally free, Chip is either in school, out with E or already drifted off to dreamland. 

I tried to spend time with the boys and have managed to sit with them for a few coaching sessions in the two weeks. But there was very little time left for any bonding. When I am not nursing or carrying baby, I usually have to rush off to clean some parts of the house, hand wash baby's soiled clothes, do laundry, prepare meals or wash pump parts. And of course I have to find time to shower and grab quick bites before baby wakes too. 

This is hard. Harder than I had imagined. I have forgotten and hence, underestimated how much time I have to spend with the baby, or rather how little would be left to do anything else. I know it's a phase and it will get better when baby is older. In a few months, maybe even weeks, it will all get better. But there are times in the days when I get teary. 

Maybe it is the postpartum blues. I won't be surprised if it is. After all, I have the history. 

The highlight of the fortnight was perhaps the belated celebration we threw for Olivia last weekend. A casual gathering with just a few people whom I think care for me and Olivia. I'm not sure if it was just the fresh air, or seeing so many friends at the same time that lifted my spirit a little. But while it lasted, it was so good for the soul.

Olivia: 7 Weeks

I am madly in love. 

There is just so much to love about Olivia. My baby girl. My little one. 

At 7 weeks old, she weighs 4.74kg, gaining an average of 230g/week.

She has changed quite a bit since birth. With each passing day, I see a growing resemblance between her and Marcus. 

(@1 month old)

(@ 7 weeks)

Love her soft and almost velvety skin. And how she always smells so clean.

Oh those newborn noises. All her cute little sighs. As if the world's burden is on her tiny shoulders and is too much to bear.

Her sparkling eyes that are constantly searching for interesting things to look at. 

And the way she makes eye contact and smile when I talk to her. How she coos and ahhs, responding to everything I said. 

She is a charmer. A big one. With all her sweet little smiles. And those toothless grins and soundless laughs. She knows how to steal my heart.

Not forgetting those involuntary hiccups that always made me laugh.

And the way her face scrunches up when she passes wind. How she looks surprised when her bottom gets busy.

When she waves her arms and kicks her legs in excitement. And sometimes hits her own face by accident. 

(photos: 2 weeks old)

I especially love the way she opens her mouth seeking my boob, like a baby bird looking for food.

Her warm little body pressing against my chest when she is nursing. And her beautiful baby hands. Oh, those hands gently stroking my breast as she nursed. Aww.... those moments never failed to melt my heart.

My heart is filled with contentment. 

Life feels complete. 

Unwanted Gifts

The thing is, I really hate to be ungrateful. 

But after 7 years of being Mum and living in a space that is becoming too crowded with toys and personal effects (which is seriously threatening my sanity), I have reached a point when I no longer care about being politically correct. 

So. Here is my rant. 

It really annoys me when relatives who know me and my kids well enough repeatedly give us presents that I have hinted, suggested and even explicably indicated NOT to give. 

1. Presents like stuffed toys. The bigger they are, the more they irk me. Especially when they are from people who know us well and are aware that my boys already have WAY TOO MANY! So many that they are competing for sleeping space on the tiny beds. And the bigger they are, the more dust they collect, which means more dusting and cleaning and washing for me to do! Damn it! 

Still, there are relatives who will bring us stuffed animals YEAR AFTER YEAR!!!!!  If we don't even want another brand new one, how do you think we will react to one that is second-hand? Hot washed or not. Super cute or not. 

2. Age and/or developmentally inappropriate toys or books. Very recently, a relative gave my 5-year-old Chip a brand new toy that is marked on the box as suitable for Age 3. DUH!!! The fact that it is from someone who knows my kid is already developmentally more advanced for his age speaks volume about her thoughtlessness. 

3. Old smelly books. While books are generally more welcome in this household, we are never secretive of the fact that we have hundreds of them and have run out of space for more, unless they are of great quality and literary content. So you can't blame us for being equally unenthusiastic about old smelly books with crappy content, especially when we are given dozens at a time. We still have a big stack of these which the boys have read just ONCE. A few never even captured their attention beyond page 3. Once I have more time and energy, I shall be ruthless in spring cleaning our book shelves and these will be the first lot to go. 

4. Oversized clothes. Normally, people who buy clothes as presents will choose those that are one or two sizes bigger, a practice which I can understand and appreciate. Imagine my surprise to receive a dress for my newborn that is suitable for Age 4! And this is from a relative who has daughters, so she must know how tiny infants are. I just don't understand why she would give something that has to be put in storage for 4 years? Can't find anything in stores that can fit those under 2 years? 

Of course I could do the politically correct thing - smile and thank these well-meaning individuals graciously and dance with pretentious joy and enthusiasm first, followed by giving all these unsuitable presents away to people who will appreciate them better. 

No one gets offended and no feelings hurt. 

But these people will continue to think their presents are really appreciated and they will keep bringing the same type of presents. 

I have tried giving constructive feedback to the select few, as tactful as possible, in the hope that the message gets relayed in the most harmless manner. Unfortunately, most don't listen. 

Even our suggestion of not bringing any presents didn't sit well with some people, who ended up bringing 'tokens' which are just very cheap stuff that still takes up space and are practically useless and joyless and had to be chucked the day after. What a waste of money! Sigh. 

I wish it would be easier to regift or donate things away. We have received presents before that I was too embarrassed to give away, yet found it wasteful to throw since they were new. Even when we want to donate them to charity, it means we have to find time to make trips to the charitable organizations, which can be taxing given our already crazy schedule. 

Don't get me wrong - we appreciate the kind thoughts that these relatives have of wanting to buy our kids presents but we just wish the gifts are more suitable and that our feedback is taken into consideration. 

I am not sure if risking our reputations and being labelled 'ungrateful' is a worthwhile price to pay. But I am certain we aren't going to let these unsuitable gifts take up valuable real estate anymore. I shall be ruthless. 

Manipulative Wammy

Little hands. Big ideas. 

Hours of manipulative and purposeful play. 

Boys have it for two years now. We have the box out on rotational basis so whenever it makes its appearance, the kids can't wait to lay their hands on the pieces. 

Brilliant toy. 

The First Month

I know most mums rejoice when the confinement month is officially over. But for me, I actually wish it goes on for another few weeks so I can continue to be 'mothered', while I concentrate on nursing my baby and recuperating to regain my strength.

Thanks to my mum who looked after my confinement needs and my dear hubby who did everything else under the sun that my mum couldn't do, I did get a fair bit of rest in these crucial 4 weeks. 

The first week after birth was really tiring. The combination of recovering from the C-section and total breast feeding wore me out completely. Surprisingly, the primary engorgement I experienced this time wasn't as bad as my previous. 

It was a blessing that baby latched really well (almost) right from the beginning too. This time round, I insisted on latching baby myself instead of allowing the nurses to shove my nipple into my baby's mouth. Because of my lack of trust (I have learnt the hard way from my previous experiences when I delivered my boys that not all nurses are trained enough in breastfeeding and/or care enough about mothers' nipples), I saved myself from experiencing any severely cracked nipples and awful engorgement this time. I also requested (insisted and begged) to see the lactation consultant every day, so I could be assured that I was doing the right thing. 

But most of the time, I felt as if my body had gone through war. After the pain killers wore off, there was pain from the C-section wound and my ultra sensitive nipples and just a lot of general discomfort all over. Unfortunately, I also started coughing the day after delivery which added to my misery. 

On hindsight, I am glad we insisted on a no-visitor policy during my hospital stay and confinement, to ensure I got as much rest as possible when I wasn't needed by baby. Again, this was something I learnt the hard way. We had so many visitors when I delivered Marcus that added to my stress and fatigue. When we had Nicholas, we politely declined as many visitors as possible, but there were still some (friends/relatives of my mum-in-law) who came to the house during my confinement and I had to wake up from naps and be sure I looked decent etc. Now, it was still hard to say no to well-meaning friends/relatives but I decided this was a time when I had to consider my well-being above all else. Thanks everyone for your understanding!

Week two was slightly better. My body and mind got used to the lack of sleep and broken sleep I had every night. I tried to nap whenever I could and slowly, I felt stronger. I began to enjoy my bundle of joy a lot more. My days revolved around feeding, burping, nappy changing, carrying baby, eating and sleeping. When I wasn't doing any of these, I spent a lot of time standing by her cot admiring her and counting my blessings. :>

16 days old bundle of joy after a tummy full of warm milk!

I tried to spend time with the boys, but I really didn't manage much. I probably read only twice to them in the whole month and spoke to them briefly everyday. They didn't complain. In fact, I think they were really happy to be left alone to play all the time. 

For once, I didn't even miss the Internet or touch my Macbook, which was also why I only blogged about baby more than two weeks after her birth. (All the other blog posts in Sept/Oct were drafted before baby's arrival and scheduled to post.)

@18 days old looking absolutely adorable in a dress from Aunt Heidi 

I suppose it was great that mum was around during confinement and she kept reminding me to think of my own health above all else, to nap and not feel guilty about neglecting the boys. I took it one day at a time, focusing on just recovering, resting and breastfeeding on demand. Before I realized, we were almost done with the third week of my confinement. But instead of recovering, I had an infection on part of my C-section wound. Luckily, it turned out to be mild and no antibiotics required.

By week four, I was beginning to feel more confident and assured that the breastfeeding was (finally) going well, though I also had my worries and doubts at times. There were lots of wet and soiled nappies and it was apparent that she gained weight, but because she would only feed for 10 min max. each time, always reject the second breast and was starting to sleep for 3 to 4 hrs between feeds, I was concerned. I didn't know if it was possible for such young babies to eat so efficiently and had enough calories to last so long or there were some underlying issues that I wasn't aware of.

A visit to the lactation consultant set my mind at ease. She latched well for her usual 10 min feed and drank 80 ml (baby was weighed before and after a feed). No wonder she could sleep for that stretch between feeds. I was all smiles to know she put on over 800g in 3 weeks. 

@ 21 days old; straight after bath. Look at the tum-tum! :>

But the next day, there was a new problem - rapid milk flow. Sigh. After battling the issue for a few days, I was so discouraged, especially seeing how upset she was during feeds. Thanks to very encouraging friends whom I depended on for moral support, I battled on. It helped to remind myself that this may just be a difficult phase, but it will surely pass. 

At her recent pediatrician's visit for her 1st month examination, she weighed 4.17kg; a neat gain of 1.2kg from her birth weight! :) It sure felt like a reward for the hard work I put in to breastfeed her.

Mum left a few days ago. So now I am on my own with the kids.

The rapid milk flow problem is still unresolved, though I have learnt to manage it better now. Baby seems to have learnt to cope with it during some feeds too, though there are still times when she gets really upset. 

Her night wakings are getting very predictable now, with one feed between 2 - 4am and the next between 5 - 7am, depending if she cluster feeds the night before. For most part of the day, she feeds every 3 - 4 hrs. It looks like she will be ready for a routine soon. Maybe I will introduce the E.A.S.Y. by week 6. 

I shall remain optimistic.

The Infectious Kind

photos taken in Aug '11.

..... of laughter, I mean. 

E playing a game of Gesundheit that Chip has designed on paper, inspired by the original version which he plays on iPad. 

Love the part when he threw his head back and laughed non-stop at daddy's silly responses. :> I smiled every time he did that. It's such a great way to keep me entertained while waiting for our xiaolongbaos to arrive. 

Overheard

Though there are thousands of Lego pieces on the mat, they still fight over certain pieces to complete their models. Sometimes in their collaboration to build a model together, they would argue about the designs. 

Scene: The boys were playing Lego in their room. 

Chip: Marcus, you are not my boss! I don't have to listen to you every time. 

Another occasion.

Marcus (crying out of frustration): Nicholas always gets his way. He thinks he is the King while I am the little slave from India.

Haha.... I wonder where that comes from. Anyway, it is not true that Chip always gets his way. They both get equal treatment when they misbehave. 

 

Landing Kid in Therapy

As I read this incredibly wordy but interesting article: How to Land Your Kid in Therapy, I couldn't help smiling at the numerous examples mentioned.

I particularly agree with the part on Pg 2 which highlighted examples of 'parents who overly protected their offspring, resulting in them growing into adults who can't handle normal frustrations in life.'

It brings to mind this kid I know, who has slight delay in gross motor development which makes it challenging for her to keep her balance on uneven floors. When she runs or walks fast, she appears wobbly in her steps and sometimes falls down. Instead of letting her practise and learn to overcome this challenge under their supervision, her parents avoid playgrounds and parks totally for fear of her falling down and hurting herself. 

Once, the girl joined us at a park for frisbee. At the second throw, she tumbled onto the grass because of the uneven ground but she didn't cry immediately. She only looked surprised. But when her mum shrieked real loud, dashed over to her side, looked real concerned at her legs as if searching for wounds, she burst into big fat, unconsolable tears and cried for so long, as if she had tumbled off a big slide. 

The article also brought up this brilliant part about 'ego-boosting parents who sugar-coat realities and how they create a generation of kids who grew up with inflated view of their own specialness, and only to be crushed by realities when they enter adulthood.' The examples are everywhere! 

In the last 2 years, I have met many parents who asked me to praise their kids at every lesson, so that the kids would feel proud of themselves. The irony is, these kids are often the ones who are really weak compared to their peers.

Or the kid who requires to be told at every step of a task or artwork that she is doing a fantastic job, otherwise she will burst into tears and refuse to continue. 

Better predictors of life fulfillment and success are perseverance and resilience. Not self-esteem, especially not when it is built solely on constant praise rather than true accomplishments. 

(written in July '11)

On Home Decor and the Lack of it!

I can be a real procrastinator when it comes to making any decisions about home deco and furnishings. I simply can't make up my mind. Tsk Tsk.

This is an area in which I think both E and I lack talents. 

For instance, it took us nearly 6 months to upgrade M's cot bed into a child-size one because we couldn't agree on the bunk bed issue. 

I like the idea of stylish bunk beds made of quality wood for the boys which will help to free up precious real estate in their miserably tiny bedroom. 

But E couldn't be persuaded. He worries that M may fall off if he needs to get up in the middle of the night. Not that I have no concern for safety, but I think it is high time to trust the boy more. After all, nearly all my friends whose kids are same age as ours are sleeping in bunk beds and no one has reported any accidents. 

Anyway, the ding-dong went on for way too long. One day in late June, I gave in. We headed to Ikea and picked a single bed within 30 min. 

Ok, the cute white lambs is a saving grace..... but the room is as cramped as ever. Sigh. 

As a result of our inability to reach a compromise or convince each other enough to make progress, on several occasions, the hubby just headed out to make all the purchases within an hour of shopping. I haven't really stopped him either. Like the lights which he replaced recently in the bedrooms. 

Not exactly the kind of approach we should take since we both have very different tastes and ideas of how we want our home to look like. But I've given up, to a certain extent, for this home at least. We won't stay here that much longer. For our next home, I shall 'work harder' in this respect. 

Right now, there are other priorities.