there's an indian proverb that children bind the feet of the mother.
would be the first to admit that i came into motherhood somewhat reluctantly. L was unplanned but not unwanted, a happy accident over early may bank holiday long weekend when i really should've been revising for finals instead of gallivanting in the lakes. sat finals in the ever worsening throes of first trimester, started work in a dangerous job (acute male inpatient psych) during second trimester and felt like my medical career has stalled before it even started when i'd to go on maternity leave. but as my wise obgyn told me (and probably all his other patients!), "there's never a right time to have a baby, but it's always a good time". and i like to think he was right. conscious that we were incredibly lucky to have a baby without any complications and have nothing but respect for parents whose path to parenthood was longer and more intentional than ours.
the birth itself wasn't entirely straightforward. L was late and i'd to be induced, labour was initially hard to establish but we got there in the end. his heart rate dropped while i was pushing and he needed a ventouse. in a way the ventouse helped because i literally pushed thrice and for probably less than five minutes before he was delivered in all his slippery glory onto my chest. through it all, i'm grateful that God was in control and the medical team was wonderful. words cannot begin to describe the gratitude i feel to them, and of course nothing but praise for my incredible obgyn. aside: being post-dates is probably the most annoying thing earth because (well meaning) friends keep asking if there's a baby yet (from week 37!) so that's like a month of bother despite my telling them that as and when there's a baby, i'll let them know. it got to a point where i disengaged and stopped replying because was like groundhog day, or what einstein described as insanity (doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different outcome!). also, friends who'd elective sections just didn't seem to get it and kept saying 'oh your baby could come before 40 weeks'. to someone who was doing everything in her power to get the baby out (long walks, spicy food, accupuncture that hurt like crazy, other unmentionables...) it was really discouraging to be told 'maybe you're too stressed', because, oh hey, it's that easy. that said, i did enjoy the peace and quiet before he was born and had oodles of time on my hands to be self indulgent. i like to think it was a healthy, normal pregnancy, low risk, baby was happy and why would i have him before he was full-term? but try telling me that at week 40, i'd probably have had a few choice words.
two weeks on, i cannot imagine life without him. perhaps that's the reason behind a nine (ten in our case!) month gestation because it takes times for the realisation to sink in. while nothing could've / would've prepared me for what lay ahead, the switch just flicked when he was placed on me and everything changed in that split second.what i found helpful was friends who were positive, who told me it'd be more exhausting but also more fulfilling than i could ever imagine. their words ring even more true now he's here. without going into too much detail, what i didn't appreciate were friends, who i'm sure had the best of intentions, were negative about pregnancy / motherhood. constantly telling me 'just you wait till you can't reach your toes' or 'labour is hard then having a newborn is worse' or 'how breastfeeding is painful and hard' or 'you'll never sleep again'. didn't see the point of that - knowing beforehand doesn't benefit me and robs me of joy. and now that things are good, i'm subconsciously waiting for the other shoe to fall because i've been naive and taken the naysayers to heart. granted it's probably about frame of reference and if they've had a negative experience they're more likely to project that negative experience cos they don't know any other way. as C graciously pointed out when i'd a rant to her about negative friends i stopped replying because they got on my nerves, perhaps it was underscored by an element of baby blues.
but the negativity is everywhere - even in choice of words and nuance. people ask how we're 'coping'. which implies it's difficult and challenging. singaporean friends are horrified we don't have a confinement nanny but we decided against the invasion of privacy and also i'm very bad at following instructions and could only envision myself going stir crazy if someone was paid to tell me what to do. it's just us three against the world and i'm constantly reminder what a rockstar the mister is. he cooks, cleans, launders, does groceries, runs around the far reaches of greater london picking up gumtree baby kit (moses basket, snuzpod, stokke high chair and newborn attachment, travel cot), does all the admin (uk birth certificate, sg citizenship application, opens bank account etc) so i don't have to lift a finger. becoming a parent has made me less judgmental when it comes to hired help - used to wonder why two adults couldn't manage their own spawn and needed so much assistance (involved inlaws, confinement nanny, domestic helper etc). but now i kinda shrug and realise it's a personal choice and the family unit has to do what's best for them.
my thoughts on the whole confinement issue are cherry picking, to say the least. for friends unfamiliar with confinement, chinese (?) women believe that the month after the baby is born the mother (and baby!) should stay home and be cared for, and avoid the cold and water at all costs. no drinking water, no showers / baths, no washing hands. just wipe down with towel (eww) and eat and drink nutritious, restorative soups and food. there's a whole industry (i call it racket) of confinement ladies who can be hired to care for the mother and newborn for a pretty penny. or the grandmothers do it. from what friends have shared, they care for the baby so the mother can rest and recover, bringing the baby to mother for feeds and giving mother lotions and potions that will increase milk supplies.
with that as the context, the mister has been sweet to brew me 6L of confinement tea every day (red dates and herbs his mother kindly sent us) and cook me so-called confinement food (food with lots of ginger and vinegar). however this has been supplemented by a healthy doses of diet coke with ice and lemon, coconut water and as much takeaway as we can bring ourselves to charge to the credit card. pizza, burgers you name it, we've had it in the last two weeks. i find the no water ban particularly gross because it's so important to keep bits and stitches (yep, war zone but i'm on some very powerful and possibly off licence analgesics!) clean and to wash my hands before i touch baby / food etc. i do what makes me feel comfortable like dress warmly, wear socks and bedroom slippers indoors, have a hot shower at night, wear gloves the rare time i'm doing the dishes so the mister gets some downtime to decompress.
we're inspired by our friends here who care for the newborns on their own and it's a complete paradigm shift from the rules and rigidity (real or perceived) in singers. while everything changed, nothing changed and we still do what we want to do when we want to. blessed to have had a speedy and uncomplicated recovery. we've been out every day for a meal or a walk since being discharged on hospital on day three. nothing overly ambitious, staying in the 'hood and revisiting our usual haunts, albeit with baby in tow. kinda cool to be back and no longer pregnant cos they must've thought i'd been pregnant forever with no sign of baby (not pregnant but fat?). ventured to the country last weekend, and again this weekend for our first overnight stay away. he comes everywhere with us and the only thing i'm picky about is germy children near him. if a kid coughs i grab him and run a mile.
he's a great baby, sleeps feeds pees and poos well, meeting all his baby KPIs. nothing disturbs him - he slept through really loud worship in church! we get more sleep than the fearmongerers predicted with him sleeping 11pm-3am, waking for a feed, then sleeping till 8/9am since the night he was born, with the sole exception of day 3. he's a happy, alert baby, doesn't fuss, isn't cranky, only cries when he's hungry, content to sit in his own swill because we're lazy about nappy changing (bad parents!). definitely have parent goggles on when i say he's a breeze to care for. cautiously optimistic that things stay this was but also realistic that it's early days yet and it could all go tits up. so again it doesn't help when people check in and i say he's doing well and they go 'just you wait, everything will change for the worse'. you probably wonder where i find such friends haha ;) i'm already paranoid enough and don't need help catastrophising.
it's teamwork and the mister and i quickly learnt to sleep through L's heavy breathing and lip smacking if it's not our turn, with the mister doing the odd night feed so i get extra shut eye. thankfully L doesn't cry unless we ignore his hunger for over 15min (fair enough!) so there's ample warning to get him on the breast. this way we needn't sleep separately, too, which's important for us. L's been exclusively on breast milk since day 3 when we got home (topped up with formula in the hospital but didn't need to once milk came in) and i've been expressing milk now and then for the mister to take over some feeds.
on that note, breastfeeding has been an amazing experience. i'd a little the head knowledge coming into this but until i saw milk coming out, i didn't really connect the two. had a really rough night our first night home from hospital (day 3, milk came in, too engorged, L couldn't latch, i didn't know what to do and grudgingly resorted to formula for fear i'd starve him otherwise) but had a wonderful lactation consultant come round later that day. 90min with her changed everything and we've not looked back. producing good amounts of milk and back to exclusively breast feeding. am so satisfied to watch my baby feed and grow solely on what my body is making for him. it's hard not to be smug / self-satisfied when i look at full bottles of breast milk and thank God for a body that's fearfully and wonderfully made.
it's a steep learning curve but i feel we're getting more familiar with L and his (few) needs. interpreting his cues better with time and wanting to bottle up his newborn preciousness. he's growing and changing before our very eyes and i finally understand where mothers, whom i previously thought were overly sentimental when they bemoaned their babies growing up too fast, are coming from. oops, guilty as charged.
it's been the longest and shortest two weeks of our lives and i'm once again so very glad it's just us three against the world. we want him to be kind, to have good sound values and prioritise social skills over baby algebra. figure he'll learn to read, write and count when he's ready but more importantly want him to play and regard the world with wonder as a child and beyond. we're trying our best to parent with wisdom and grace, constantly battling self-doubt and asking each other 'did we do the right thing? are we terrible parents?'. it's hard - whoever says it's not is lying - but oh so worth it and i'm looking forward to this journey with him. hence if he binds my feet so i slow down to walk with him, it's a change in pace i'm more than happy to embrace for my sweet baby boy.
