Category Archives: Deep Thoughts

Hemming Paul’s First Suit

This morning as my husband was leaving for work, I told him that I planned on hemming the pants of Paul’s new suit today.

“Uh oh,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, do you know how to hem pants?” he asked.

I told him I could figure it out. I mean, these are infant-sized cuffs! How hard could it be?

It took me an hour and a half. And I don’t think it looks very good. I’m just not very good. I guess that’s why kids start small–I learn on an infant-sized cuff. By the time I get to a toddler-sized cuff, I’m better. That’s a nice thought, but the problem is, I’m not sure I improved. That’s because, to be honest, I really didn’t know what I was doing. My husband was right. I really don’t know how to hem pants. Oh well.

Next time I really should just go to the kiosk at the mall–they hem pants while you wait for just $12. And then I wouldn’t have “ruined” Paul’s nice new suit. I just couldn’t bring myself to ask them to hem such small pants. How silly would I look?

I hope no one thinks Paul looks silly for having a hem that looks amateur.

Does it really matter when he’ll probably outgrow it in two months?

By the way, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a suit or even plain black pants for an infant? They’re very hard to find. But we really wanted him to look sharp. And it is such a cute suit! The pants even have pockets. Does an infant really need two pockets?

Here’s his suit. I still need to take in the vest at the shoulder (it’s too big as well) but I’m scared to mess with it. Especially after my hemming job.

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We’ll try to get pictures with the kid in the suit tomorrow. He’s asleep now. I’m just afraid he’s going to spit up over it before the blessing time on Sunday! I wanted it new for the blessing!

Cleaning Up

I swept and mopped the floor today.

Lest someone think that I have my priorities wrong and remind me that new moms should sleep when baby sleeps, I should clarify that I did take a two-hour nap this morning. And lest someone say being fed and clothed is more important, I should mention that I cooked dinner (leftovers!) and did five loads of laundry yesterday. And lest the grandmas complain, I posted a picture of Paul on the website first. Then I swept the floor.

Don’t be impressed. It has been swept twice since I came home from the hospital. And the first time I cut corners.

The things I learned:

  • A hardwood floor the size of Kentucky needs to swept every day.
  • When I have another child (I suppose I should say “if”, but who am I kidding?), I’m hiring a maid service for a month.

In defense of my husband: He is much cleaner than I am and is very good about chipping in and keeping things clean. However, he took off a week of work when Paul was born. It was just before a major project went live. Now he’s working long hours to make up for taking time off. Besides, I want him to hold his son once he comes home! And he doesn’t get a nap during the day like I do.

In defense of my friends: They offered to clean, but I am not yet willing to ask a friend to clean up my dust. And I wasn’t yet willing to give up my newborn to them so I could clean. I cherished week 2: I held my newborn just about every minute during the day and didn’t have to share him with anyone. I’m very sad that I’ll probably never get to do that again with a newborn bundle of joy.

The bottom line is, I’m starting to feel like I have control of this Being a Mother Thing, so it’s time I take care of the house too. I suppose tomorrow may feel like chaos again. But the messy house is very out of control, and today I’m feeling ready to take charge.

On to vacuuming! Oh wait, Paul’s crying. Maybe later….

Advice

I have a lot to learn about being a mother. The first major lesson I’m learning is to not believe everything I’m told.

I own a few early-days-of-being-a-mother parenting books. In the weeks prior to Paul’s birth, I read just about every parenting book in the Glen Waverley library. I talked with friends in my ward here who have been parents for years. I talked to my own mother. During the 48 hours I was in the hospital with my newborn, each midwife (there were at least 12) imparted her medical opinions about caring for my baby.

I really shouldn’t listen to most of it.

Yes, it really has taken me a month to get to this point.

I’ve decided I’ll do whatever works for my baby. I guess it’s good to read and listen to people, but I’m not going to take anyone seriously. My husband says, “Mother knows best.” I’m not sure I do know what is best, but I’m figuring it out one day at a time.

Advice That Didn’t Help

(and there is so much more!)

  • The most important thing to do is feed your baby. If you don’t, he will end up on IVs in a children’s nursery.

This came from a midwife at the hospital 36 hours after Paul’s birth. I was already panicked about trying to figure out breastfeeding and her pressure for me to figure it out before I left the hospital did not help. They actually told me I could not leave the hospital until I got him to attach correctly. With my husband’s encouragement, I told them “Actually, I’m leaving now,” and we packed up and left. One midwife was supportive of that (see Advice That Helped below). Without the awful hospital pressure, I figured it out.

  • Never give a newborn a bottle or a pacifier (also called dummy, soother, binkie). Wait until they are at least a month old (preferably 6-8 weeks old), or they will never breastfeed correctly again.

and

  • If you give a newborn a bottle (even of expressed breast milk), you aren’t breastfeeding properly and it will “mess up” your supply.

I panicked on day 13 of Paul’s life because he wouldn’t nurse. I was very worried he wasn’t getting food (see first bullet point as to why this was a huge worry). My husband bought a pump and I gave him a bottle. My husband also bought two pacifiers. Paul loves the pacifiers, has no problems with the bottle, and hasn’t really had any problem nursing since day 16. He figured it out.

  • Your baby will scream if he’s hungry.

Paul doesn’t scream. He sleeps. Eventually, when I offer him the chance to eat, he’ll realize he’s hungry and get mad and anxious to eat. But he usually doesn’t realize he’s hungry before that point.

  • Newborns that are breastfed don’t need to be burped. They don’t get “wind.”

It took me a week (or more) to realize this isn’t true for Paul. If I burp Paul every five minutes, he spits up half as much.

  • Breastfeed babies don’t spit up very often.

I read this on a website about breastfeeding. They must not have met my son!

  • You’re baby isn’t like an adult. He knows when he’s full and stops eating.

I have no proof of this, but I really think Paul will keep eating forever! He does not refuse to eat, even if he’s been eating for an hour. He’ll spit up every thing he eats after a certain point, but still he usually won’t refuse if I offer. (Sometimes he does fall asleep, though.)

  • Don’t use any kind of cleanser in the baby’s bath. Just use warm water.

I’m not convinced that that would really clean me, let alone my spit-up covered child. I’m not sure why so many people told me this. We avoid soap, of course, but what’s wrong with Johnson’s wash?

Advice That Helped

  • You have common sense, and you have nipples. You’ll be fine!

This was the response from one midwife (a cute Chinese grandma lady) at the hospital that didn’t seem worried that I wanted to skip the joint, despite not having “figured out” breastfeeding by day 2.

Daylight

My son awoke at 4:30 this morning (and at 12:30 and 3, but that’s besides the point). As I climbed the stairs to his nursery, I was somewhat consoled by the fact that this was Daylight Savings Time night. It’s October, so I knew that I would be gaining an hour: it was really only 3:30. I would get a few more hours of sleep!

As I sat with him, I started to realize that the night sky was getting lighter. I no longer needed the nightlight to see in front of me. I peered out of his window to see a bright red ball peeking out behind the clouds. It was beautiful, and it was definitely a sunrise.

A sunrise at 4 a.m.? If the sun rises that early this week, how early would it rise next week? Aren’t the days getting longer?

And then I realized what I’ve always known: Spring Forward, Fall Back. It is October. That means it is Spring. I didn’t gain an hour, I lost it. It wasn’t 4 a.m. It was 6 a.m.

Night was over. It was day.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter what time the clock said it was. Paul was sure it was morning. He wouldn’t yawn or flutter his eyelids even the slightest, despite the fact that I closed all of his blinds and bound him up tightly in a blanket and held him closely for 30 minutes.

I guess he’s getting pretty smart. When he sees daylight, he thinks it’s time to be awake. Even if Mommy wants to sleep.

A Child of God

The first night I held Paul in my arms, I began to sing him a familiar song as a lullaby:

I am a child of God,
and He has sent me here,
has given me an earthly home,
with parents kind and dear.

As I sang, I was overcome with the meaning of it: I am one of the parents kind and dear. I am the one the song is about. When Paul thinks of this song and his own earthly home and parents, he’ll be thinking of me!

It’s intimidating to realize how much Heavenly Father trusts me–He’s sent one of His precious spirit children to me! My husband points out that He sends His children to all sorts of different homes and families. But I know my role. It’s up to me (and the others in Paul’s life) to fulfill the chorus of the song for Paul:

Lead me, guide me, walk beside me.
Help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do
To live with Him some day.

I hope and pray I can lead Paul as he deserves to be led–back to the presence of our Heavenly Father!

“I Can” Versus “I Can’t”

I’ve never had incredible self confidence. I second guess my abilities to do just about everything. So taking on the new role of mother is very daunting. Heavenly Father trusts me with one of his precious spirit children. Me!

I’m sure I’m not the only new mother a bit overwhelmed.

As I mentioned previously on this webpage, I loved being pregnant! But while I can’t say I loved the giving birth part of the adventure, I did love the incredible spiritual experiences I had during the entire process (in retrospect only; I didn’t love it at all at the time). I’ll share some of it because I feel it has so much to do with how I’ll approach motherhood and everything in my life now.

I’ve been told that the labor for first babies is usually a very long time. I figured once I got to the hospital, I’d get an epidural to deal with the pain. How else do women get through it these days? There’s pain medicine, so take it, I say.

When I first entered the delivery room last Sunday, I asked how long I should expect to be in labor. The midwife suggested that normal progress would be 4 hours for every 2 cm dilation. Since I was only 4 cm at that point, that would leave me with 12 more hours of labor! I just about died. I couldn’t stand the thought of such a long time. Because it seemed there was so much time left, I decided to wait until I seriously couldn’t bear it anymore before asking for the epidural. It would be a long time stuck on my back.

It was only another hour and a half before I asked for it. I couldn’t stand the pain. With each contraction, I told my husband, “I can’t do this!” He calmly reassured me that I could. (He was very good to me the entire time!)

Well, by the time I asked for the epidural, the nurse told me that it was too late–I was fully dilated. I couldn’t have an epidural at that point. It was nearly time to push.

In some respects, it was exciting to know that Paul was so near to be born. It’s very good to have a shorter labor! But I just knew I couldn’t have a baby without numbing all the pain!

“How long?” I asked.

“Within two hours.”

Two more hours! I couldn’t do it. I would die. I firmly decided that if the baby hadn’t been born by 3 p.m, I would succumb to death. But I’d make a valiant effort before I did. I owed that to my husband and this baby that wanted to be born.

The contractions were horrible. But then the most amazing thing happened: in between I was able to breathe and get ready for the next one. During each contraction I would feel so horrible and I’d tell everyone in the room I couldn’t do it. But then I’d get a moment to catch my breath. And I’d realize that the baby was coming.

Whenever I said “I can’t do it!”, my husband would say “You’re doing great” and the midwives would say “You are doing it!”

Well, Paul sure took his time. It was more than 2 hours. 3 p.m. came and he still hadn’t been pushed out. But he was nearly there. I decided not to die. And then, with one long push, there was Paul. He was born. The midwife put him on my belly, and there he was.

I can’t describe my first emotional impression of seeing my son. Here’s the physical description: He was blue and squirmy and tiny. (And yet, he was so huge for having just come from inside of me!) It was an incredible thing to finally hold him.

That night, my husband left the hospital and I was left with our newborn son. He was fussy and wouldn’t go to sleep. I was exhausted and the adrenaline was wearing off. I’d been up most of the night before with contractions and so that hadn’t been very restful sleep. As a new mom, I think I must have felt I would be betraying my new son if I put him to sleep all alone in his bassinet if he wasn’t yet asleep. (I was cured of that pretty quickly!)

As I paced the floor, I thought to myself “Come on! Go to sleep, Paul! I can’t stay awake much longer!” It was a silly thought, but like I said, it had been a long day.

And then it happened: I realized I could never truly say “can’t” again.

I had just been through childbirth without pain medication of any kind. I certainly hadn’t thought I’d be able to do that. And yet, I had done it. Certainly, walking the room with my baby was nothing compared to that! I can handle whatever comes!

I know I will forget and I will doubt myself again. And if I’m labor, I will probably say “I can’t do this!” It’s how life is. We forget. But I have had an experience that solidifies the fact that I can do so much more than I think I can do.

When I am up late, exhausted, with my horribly ill infant, toddler, child, or teenager, I can handle it. When my son hurts himself and is screaming and bleeding, I can handle it. When I am ill myself and my house is full of kids needing care, I can handle it. I may not feel like I can, but I didn’t feel like I could deliver a baby without medicine either. We don’t know what we are able to do until we are called upon to do it.

I thought of this again as I listened to President Eyring’s talk in priesthood session this week. (While I wasn’t invited, of course, the audio is available online so I listened to it when my husband did.) President Eyring said:

What is impossible for you is possible with Godรขโ‚ฌโ„ขs help in His service. … All of us, whatever our callings may be, face tasks that are beyond our own powers. I do and you do.

I certainly feel that my new call of Mother is beyond my own power. But I know that God sustained me during the birth of my son. And, with His sustaining power in my life, I no longer can say “I can’t” to any “call” or challenge along the way in this journey called Motherhood.

I won’t tell anyone to go through childbirth without drugs. I certainly wanted them! Like I said, we have been blessed with pain medicine, why not use it? In general, however, I think we need to stop telling ourselves “I can’t” if we truly don’t know our ability. Our Heavenly Father knows us better than we know ourselves. We shouldn’t let our perception of how bad things will be (or are) cloud our ability to actually do them. Anything truly is possible with God’s help. We can!

I’m Ready

I still “enjoy” being pregnant. It is a blessed experience.

But I’m ready for this baby to be born.

I ache when I try to get up and I definitely waddle now. I have a headache by the evening. But that’s not really the reason I’m ready. It’s just time to meet this guy. The bags are packed. The room is ready. I am ready.

I am 39 weeks along sometime this week. I’m noticing that the countdown I have in the corner of the website is off by a day–I think it follows a different time zone, and I’m not sure how to bring it to Australia time. So I don’t like the fact that on my due date (4 October) it will tell me that there is still a day left. Oh well.

My coworkers at the volunteer centre have been taking “bets” on when my baby will come. They all think it will happen this week. They are hoping it starts when I’m volunteering tomorrow so they can be a part of the “exciting events.”

I hope it starts when I’m at home and my husband is too.

My husband hopes it starts after Friday because he’s planning on working from home all next week and it would be easy to turn that into time off. Apparently, this week is kind of busy.

I’ve discovered that there is the Australian Football League final match on Saturday in downtown Melbourne. There are rallys in downtown Melbourne all week, a parade down Swanston Street on Friday, and the event itself (100,000 expected to go it) on Saturday. I wouldn’t care about a sporting event, but my hospital is downtown, just off Swanston Street. I’m afraid my labor will begin just when traffic is at it’s worst this weekend.

I shouldn’t worry, I guess. Today’s midwife told me to expect to go at least a week overdue. It’s standard for first babies to be a week overdue. They won’t consider induction until at least 41 weeks unless something is wrong. She didn’t seem to want to encourage me in thinking that he’s coming anytime soon, although she conceded that he could come any day now. They did the CTG, AFI, and S/D ratio tests again today. All is still fine with the baby, so no worries.

The thought of another two or three weeks of this is very discouraging for some reason. But I really do like having the baby inside: I don’t have to worry about what goes in and out of him right now. What’s a little discomfort when I know he’s not born yet because he’s not ready to be born yet?

All the same, I’m ready.

I Love Being Pregnant

Tuesday, I had my 36 week appointment. I waited two hours and then I saw a doctor for 5 minutes. Usually, it’s a midwife. But because I’m 36 weeks, I got to see a doctor. (Remember–I’m in the public health system, so that’s how it works.) My fundal height was 2 cm small, which is still in the “normal” category. I’ve been 2 or 3 cm smaller than “normal” all along. All the same, the doctor ordered a CTG, AFI, and S/D just to make sure all was right. He wrote IUGR? on the request form. ๐Ÿ˜•

I went back to the hospital first thing on Wednesday morning (good thing I went early–I didn’t wait at all).

I didn’t know what those acronyms meant, so I looked them up. CTG is a cardiotocography test to check the baby’s heartbeat. It also measures contractions when the woman is in labor. Good news! I’m not in labor. Other good news: baby’s heartbeat is completely normal. So normal, in fact, that the woman administering the test told me to give the baby a stern talking to so the heart rate might change a little bit.

AFI is the Amniotic Fluid Index. They check it through an ultrasound, looking at the pockets of amniotic fluid they can see. (By the way, since I had an ultrasound they could confirm: it’s definitely a boy!) I measured in at 9. Average is 5-25, so Paul’s got plenty of cushioning. S/D is something to do with the blood pulsing through the cord. I measured at 1.7, a lower percentile, I guess, but fine. Don’t really know what it means beyond that. IUGR means Intrauterine Growth Restriction. I guess the doctor was worried that if I’m not getting “big enough” that means that the baby’s growth is restricted. Since I’m still getting bigger each week, just consistently smaller than “normal,” I think we can rule that out.

It’s interesting that I showed up for these tests and told the technician that I’m 36 weeks and then she commented on how small I am. Isn’t that why I was there in the first place? Anyway, as mentioned, all is well for the baby. ๐Ÿ™‚

The interesting thing about my day was the thoughts I had as I traveled on the train to the hospital. I was thinking about these tests and the possibility that something might be wrong. Hypothetically, if I didn’t have enough amniotic fluid or if the baby were in distress, I’d be rushed in to an emergency cesarean. ๐Ÿ˜ฎ

As I thought that on the train, I realized that those minutes could be my last minutes being pregnant. I could very well have a baby in a few more hours, born just four weeks early (I was 3 1/2 weeks early). That might have been the end of the big swollen belly, the end of kicks in my ribs, the end of my waddle walk. I wouldn’t wake up in the night with baby kicks just as I was getting comfortable. I wouldn’t have to lean over when I sit through 3 hours of church because my back aches. True, I’d have a baby waking me at night and all the aches of major surgery, but I wouldn’t have the baby inside of me.

That made me so sad.

Last night, every time I woke up to a kick, every time I got up to use the toilet because baby was dancing on my bladder, I felt so happy. I get to enjoy him inside of me for a while longer! ๐Ÿ˜€ How great is that?!

I really love being pregnant. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very excited to meet this little guy when he comes. Maybe I’m just not as uncomfortable as other women because I’m “small.” But, to be honest, I really like all the belly aches and sore muscles and bones. I like the fact that I have a huge belly and I waddle when I walk. It means a baby is inside of me! I like constant movement when I’m just trying to get comfortable. It reminds me time and again that I’m going to be a mother, that God is sending me one of His chosen spirits. This baby has a personality, he has a spirit, and he has a calling in life that only Heavenly Father knows at this time.

It is a huge responsibility to be a mother and to teach this precious spirit. But I’m so excited. And I feel so blessed that I have the blessing of carrying this baby in my own body, feeding him through my body with the food that I eat, and nurturing him naturally in a perfect cocoon just the right size (though quickly becoming too small). What a blessing it is to be a woman and to carry a child!

I am so blessed! And yet I only get four more weeks or so of this. ๐Ÿ™ I guess I should it expect it to get very much more uncomfortable in the next month. Many people say you’re ready for the baby to come because you’re so uncomfortable. I’m not there yet. I’m still loving it!

What I Miss

This week, I decided I miss good old American shopping.

I miss:

  • Being able to find prices for things like brooms and ironing boards and baby clothes and sheets online at various stores, then going to the store and getting the exact one I want.
  • Frozen boneless, skinless chicken breast (or any frozen meat, for that matter!)
  • Apple sauce (I never thought it would be so hard to find. I miss rows of Motts to choose from!)
  • Corn meal (polenta mix just isn’t quite the same–too gritty)
  • Cream of Wheat (for me) and grits (for my husband)
  • Variety of breakfast cereals (where are my two aisles?)
  • Frozen pizzas (what ever you do, don’t try a grocery store frozen pizza!)
  • Readily prepared foods (such as a vegetable platter)
  • Carmex (Thanks, Mom, for sending some! Chap Stick doesn’t cut it.)
  • Affordable makeup (The kind of foundation I particularly like is $20, which I’m sure is more than twice as much as that particular Maybelline style in the States. I think I’ll go for the generic. I don’t care about makeup THAT much.)

So here’s today’s story: I volunteered to bring a vegetable platter to a ward event tonight. I figured that would be the easiest possible option. Go to the store, buy a platter and dip, and voila! But no, they don’t have those here anywhere. I had to buy broccoli and cut it up! How old-fashioned!

Here’s the other story: The other day I went to no fewer than three stores before I found an acceptable ironing board (Target, Kmart, and Big W). All of these stores are in malls. Why can’t there be a store that stands by itself and has acceptable parking? I’m very tired of walking through malls. Besides, all of them have these very tempting ice cream kiosks on every corner. It’s very hard to resist (but I did! This time, at least.).

So, this week I really started missing all those good old American comforts when it comes to shopping. Go eat some apple sauce and enjoy it.