Category Archives: Challenges

Advice

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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.

“I Can” Versus “I Can’t”

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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 God’s 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!

What I Miss

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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.

“Foreign” Country

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We made it Australia.

Take a deep breath now.

Most things are the same as anywhere else. Many of these things don’t feel foreign. I might as well be living in Any City, USA. For example:

  • People walk to work quickly.
  • Trams, buses, and trains all follow a schedule.
  • The hotel restaurant has icky food.
  • People all speak with some kind of accent, just like anywhere else in the world. (Many are from Asian countries, but even the Australian accents aren’t too strong as to be “foreign.” It’s like having people from the South, Brooklyn, a farm in the West, and Asia all in one room. Lots of accents, but it’s all English.)
  • Grocery stores and retail stores have food, clothes, and goods of all kinds.
  • Big W has the lowest prices. All the time. Guaranteed. (It looks remarkably like Walmart…)
  • Plastic grocery bags break when you walk two blocks with them.
  • There are lots of museums and things to do.
  • My husband goes to work every morning.

There are a few things that feel foreign. Here are my foreign moments in the past few days.

  • My recipe called for bacon so I grabbed the cheapest I could find on the shelf. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized that bacon here is “Canadian Bacon” or ham. Ooops.
  • The deli counter had meat for $24+! I was quite shocked at the sticker price until I realized it was $24 per kg, not per lb. A kg is 2.2 lbs, so it really wasn’t that awful.
  • Milk seems to come predominately in a “whole” or “full” variety. “Skim” milk as I know it was hard to find. And the stuff I did get tastes funny. I wonder if it the carton I got is bad or if all “skim” milk here is just nasty. I certainly don’t think it would be wise to eat whole milk for the next two years.
  • I had just purchased something at Big W, so I knew I had three dollars in coins. But when the cashier stood waiting for the two dollars I owed, I just couldn’t figure out which coins made up two dollars. Who would have thought that the littlest coin was worth the most, even two dollars? How silly! (Then I realized that the US does the same thing with dimes. Why? It’s just confusing.)
  • Drivers are on the right side of the car. The cars drive on the left side of the street. Usually I don’t notice because I’m not driving yet. But it does throw me off when I go to cross a street.
  • Some intersections require all right turns to be made from the LEFT lane. Even if there are two lanes of left-flowing traffic. That really doesn’t make sense to me.
  • The State Library of Victoria had a historical exhibit. I guess I was supposed to know who the infamous Ned Kelly was because there wasn’t a lot of explanation.

Other than those things, it doesn’t feel very foreign. Now we are going to get a bank account set up here so we won’t have to keep paying foreign exchange fees. This afternoon I’m taking the tram up to the hospital for my first doctor’s appointment in this country. My husband will take a cab from work and meet me there. How are we supposed to meet up without cell phones? (Mine has no signal…) That is kind of foreign, to be without instant communication means. Tomorrow we are going to look at homes. We are excited to find out where we will be.

I feel like we’re in our new home town. It feels right.

Moving

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We are well in the middle of packing. The apartment is littered with boxes, and random things are on the floor. Last night, we mourned the fact that we won’t have a clean home again for a long time. Now we must be in a state of chaos for a while. First, we’ll be living somewhat temporarily in my parent’s house. Then we’ll finally get Visas and head to Australia. We’ll living in temporary corporate housing for a few weeks. Then finally we’ll move to a more permanent home. Hopefully, we’ll then get all the goods that we’ll ship over there.

In the mean time, I’m packing up things we won’t be using for two years. It didn’t take long to pack up our books. They fit in about eight small U-Haul boxes. I’ll miss them, but most of them can be gotten from the library. And some are on the Web. But I cried as I put my crystal glasses in a box (with lots of cushioning). I didn’t feel like doing all the china last night, too. It’s so hard to say “good-bye,” even though I know we’ll see this stuff again.

I do not have much experience with packing. When I went to college, I took my suitcase out in a two-door Nissan. Then I supplemented what I forgot with my frequent trips home, every six months. I had to move my apartment a few times. When I needed too, I just waited until moving day and took frequent trips in the car I was borrowing. I don’t think I ever got boxes to move things.

When it was time to return home from college, I waited until the day after graduation when my parents showed up with the huge conversion van. It took a while to fill it up with my stuff. It was packed to the gills. But again, I don’t think I did fill boxes. Most things were loose in plastic bags. I was more concerned with finishing cleaning the apartment to pass my cleaning check.

When I got married, I again did multiple trips by small car to move my things in to my husband-to-be’s apartment over the course of a few weeks. It took a while. But it got moved in.

This time, it’s different. We’ve already taken down one four-door car full of stuff. It’s amazing at how little fit in the car. Then yesterday we took down a van load. Maybe another car or van on Friday, and then next Saturday, we’ll take 17 foot moving van. Most things will go in to storage. But, as my husband points out, maybe it will be very nice to not be tied down to material goods.

I guess we’ll see.