Strong Women

I have been struggling to write this entry for a few days now.  So many emotions surface about these 2 women that I loved so well.  I find myself confused about where to start and don’t want to burden the reader with a book long post about my relatives.  How can a person (let alone 2) be summarized in a blog post?  How can I convey the essence of the most important woman in my life?  It can’t be done!  Instead I’ll simply share a story about my Mom and Grandma that exemplifies who they were in my eyes.

When I was little, Mom and I would go to GEMCO and I always got to have a pretzel (salted variety, with mustard, yum) as a treat.  The only condition was that I had to go to the counter and buy it myself.  This one simple act taught me how to stand up for myself ( a few times someone tried to push in front of me, but I corrected them; Mom said it was because I was a kid and people thought they could get away with it).  I’m convinced that once I was born, my Mom’s sole task in life was to make sure I was strong and would never be taken advantage of.  I would like to think that my Mom succeeded.  While my Mom was strong, and often confrontational, she was one of the silliest people that I knew, and while it may not have been one of her planned tasks, it rubbed off on me, and I’m so grateful for it.  Life seems pretty dull when you take yourself too seriously and forget to be simply silly.

My Grandma would be 90 years old this February.  She had a Pomeranian named Baby that she loved to bits.  One of her biggest frustrations about getting old was that her mobility was significantly reduced (she would tire easily and developed asthma).  When my Grandma started falling inexplicably last year, she didn’t tell me about it.  Apparently, my Grandma believed that you didn’t deliver bad news to a pregnant woman.  During one of her falls, my Grandma broke a glass table that had been beside her couch for at least 10 years.  When the health assessment nurse came to evaluate Grandma’s living situation, they strongly recommended that Grandma get rid of that table and also stop walking Baby (as with most undisciplined dogs, he was fond of wrapping my Grandma up in his leash).  The following day, my Grandma had someone fish that table out of the trash can and asked everyone she knew who put it in there in the 1^st place because she was going to give them a piece of her mind.  She also insisted on continuing to walk that damn dog, and he tripped her.  She broke her hip, but because of her age and ailing heart, they couldn’t operate, so she was sent to a nursing home for physical therapy.  What she got instead was pneumonia in both lungs.  I flew back home on a Friday, brought Grandma home on Saturday at her request, and she went into a coma that night.  She never regained consciousness and passed away almost a week later.  My Grandma was stubborn (and bossy, but we won’t discuss that now), and frustrating because of it!  But no one can say that she didn’t live and die on her own terms, and I respect and appreciate that.

Strong…stubborn…silly…these are all words that I would use to describe myself, and I’m proud to be all three of those.  I didn’t take the opportunity enough, if at all, to tell my Mom and Grandma that I appreciated those qualities about them.  It is true that we don’t appreciate something until we no longer have it.  I actively work to try and remedy that now…sometimes I fail, sometimes I succeed, but I’m always trying.

When Little S Came

On Tuesday,  19 October 2010, I was 5 days overdue and starting to feel impatient.  Everyone always says not to worry and that the baby will come when she’s ready, but that is little comfort to an excited first-time mom who is also done being big and pregnant.  We went to the mall to get in more walking and encourage gravity to help things along.  We were told that pineapple helps kick start labour, but we decided to go with the standard curry and picked one up on the way home.

Early contractions started later that night.  I went to sleep hoping that I would wake up to full blown labour and have a baby in my arms soon.  Unfortunately, I woke up without being in any pain whatsoever.  Wednesday was full of anticipation and the contractions returned in the afternoon.  These contractions also went away with the help of some paracetamol.  It was frustrating that my body couldn’t seem to make up its mind whether or not it wanted to start labour.  Late Wednesday night the contractions were back and more frequent, so I called the labour ward and was advised to come in.  The midwife’s examination revealed that I was fully effaced (cervix was flat and moved out of the way), but no more than 1 cm dilated.  So, I was given stronger pain relievers and sent home to try and sleep.  I managed to get 2 hours of sleep before the pain was back, and so much stronger.  Back to the labour ward we went!

The hot bath that worked before to relieve some pain did absolutely nothing now (making me doubt the effectiveness of a water birth for pain relief).  I was now 2 cm dilated, which is only significant when you’re in pain and are told that stronger pain relief (gas & air or an epidural) can be given when you’re at 3 cm (classed as active labour).  I didn’t want to return home to wait for the last 1 cm before additional pain relief could be given, so I was moved to a different ward.  My concept of time went right out the window, but I know I spent the better part of Thursday on this ward.  I cried, I lamented, I was generally miserable, as any woman in that much pain would be.  First pregnancies often stall during pre-labour and mine was no different.  The midwife said that the contractions would feel “different” after 3 cm, but I didn’t understand what she meant.  Then, I must have hit 3 cm, because OH MY GOD, there was a vast difference between this new pain and what I had been experiencing previously.  There is no way for me to describe it.

I asked for another examination from a reluctant midwife and had to beg, plead and cry for this one, but I knew it was different and I would be past 3 cm, which the midwife confirmed.  I was moved back up to the labour ward where I happily accepted the gas & air that was offered to me.  I continued to labour with increasing pain (which I was later told was due to Little S being in a back to back position) and asked for an epidural at around 6.30 PM (I vaguely seem to remember that I was 6 cm by this time).  An epidural usually takes 15 minutes to be placed, but the doctor apologized to me after an hour of needle-poking and said that he’d never had so much trouble getting an epidural in.  Once it was in place, my waters were broken for easier monitoring of Little S and I was able to doze off from the wonderful relief.

There was a midwife shift change and I ended up with the most wonderful midwife, named Lucy, who was there until the end of the birth.  At some point, there was a concern over Little S’s oxygen reading.  They said it was normal to have dips, but that hers wasn’t returning to normal or spiking back as quickly as they would have liked.  The midwife and an assistant consultant were explaining the procedure, when the “real” consultant arrived and in his arrogant bluster cut them off to explain the exact same procedure in the same way.  So they took some blood from her scalp and everything was OK, but this problem returns later as you’ll read.  Labour continues…

Then, out of nowhere, I am at 10 cm and feel the overwhelming need to push.  The atmosphere in the room changes to a combination of controlled chaos and excitement.  The arrogant consultant returns and keeps having my bed put closer to the ceiling (I swear at one point I could have reached out and touched it) and doing exams with nearly every contraction.  I begin to feel stressed out and a bit like a yo-yo.  At this point I am told Little S is in a back to back position and that the oxygen problem has returned.  The consultant wants me in stirrups (completely ignoring that I had SPD) and feels an assisted delivery is needed just in case Little S is in distress.  For some reason I was willing to compromise and accept being put into stirrups, but assisted delivery was apparently the last straw, probably because he wanted to have this discussion while I was trying to push with the contractions and follow the midwife’s instructions.   I made it clear that the POSSIBILITY of distress was not enough for me to warrant an episiotomy and forceps/vacuum delivery; that if there was a REAL danger that I would do whatever was needed, but until then, I was continuing my labour “normally”.  My husband says he’s never seen me so determined and fired up like that, but I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and I was going towards it on my terms.  I was told later that the consultant quietly sulked out of the room before Little S’s head crowned.

I became very excited and knew we were very close when a 2^nd midwife was sent for (Little S’s midwife, Chris).  At 2.25 am on Friday, after 45 minutes of pushing, I had my gorgeous 7 pound 4 ounce baby girl…without an episiotomy or assisted delivery. Chris placed Little S on my stomach and blew gently into her face to encourage breathing.  She placed a little hat on her head while she was still blue.  My husband got to cut the umbilical cord as I had hoped he would.  Lucy helped Little S find the breast and she fed for 45 minutes.

I originally hoped to have a water birth and only need gas & air, but I am not disappointed.  How could I be?  I had a supportive husband and midwife and a healthy baby girl at the end of it.  The experience was overall one that I will remember fondly for the rest of my life.

Government Frustration

I'll just forewarn you that I'm about to go off on a bit of a rant about the new government that we have in place here in the UK.  During the election, I was all for the Liberal Democrats to be given a chance to run the government because they were so charismatic and the Conservatives and Labour had already been given ample opportunities.  However, I am now so so so sorry that Big S voted on my behalf for the Lib Dems as they have completely caved in.  Our Coalition government just seems more and more each day like a Conservative one, and one that is making desperately poor decisions.

I understand and accept that our country has huge debt, but I also see so many people in my own village that haven't worked a day in their lives and tax the benefits system without need.  I'm not saying to put these people on the streets and starve them, but addressing this problem, rather than cutting the winter fuel payments to OAP (old age pensioners) would be a better option.  Or, and here's a completely absurd thought, cut back on some of the extravagant spending on the 2012 Olympics or the failed attempt to host the World Cup.  Certainly that would be better than cutting the weekly allowance (£30 max) given to 16-18 year olds who decide to pursue further education.  This brings me to what probably irks me the most about the Coalition government's new budget.

Their weekly allowance is being cut, so I guess the plan is for them to go out and get a job...wait, there ARE NO JOBS!  The news on the radio today said that unemployment is on the rise again and is at a record high.  We're taking away their allowance and increasing university fees by up to 3 times.  At some point, the UK is going to be reduced to an uneducated lump, and we'll probably still be in debt.

Baby Group Hopes

So now that Little S is interested in toys and is less of a "blob", I've been wanting to go to a baby play group, but didn't feel optimistic about attendance since I'm the only person that attends the breastfeeding groups in both of our local children's centres.  Also, it's been 4 years since I moved here and I still have no friends to hang out with, besides Big S, but he doesn't count ;-).  I finally mustered up some motivation (Little S helped when she didn't go back to sleep after her 9 am feed today) and got our bums out of the door and headed to our very first play group (we were late though, to keep with tradition).

It was great!  There were two other mums there: K with her son, and Z with her twins.  As it happens, we had also done some aquanatal classes together while we were pregnant, so it was nice to see familiar faces.  Little S was fascinated by seeing, and being aware of, her first baby and enjoyed having two new adults to observe and smile at.  It was also their first trip to the group, so we were all new together!  We agreed to attend next week and might also add in the Baby Sign class that I've been pondering.

They said they are relatively new to the area and don't have many friends, so it's nice to know that I'm not alone in this boat.  Can this be the end of my maternal loneliness??  I, for one, am keeping my fingers crossed!

My Little Pukka Pie

My Mom always used to say that I would understand the love she felt for me one day when I had a child, and to be honest, I believed her.  I still wish that I had the opportunity to tell her just how right she was!!  My Little S is simply amazing to me, but there are 3 times each day that I am simply without words of gratitude to the Universe for giving her to me.

In the morning, I can still hardly believe this little person asleep on my pillow.  I'm tired from a couple of feedings during the night and staying up too late the night before, yet it all, and I mean ALL, disappears as soon as she gives me that first smile of the day.  I am suddenly renewed and don't care that I have to change a nappy, get in a feed, and get both of us dressed to get to an appointment that we are probably late for.  I will do anything for that smile.

In the evening, when I'm feeding Little S, I'll notice that there's suddenly no sucking going on and go to help her latch back on (she frequently has little breaks in the middle of feeds, so this isn't unusual).  What I find is a little face staring intently at my own.  She smiles from ear to ear when I see this little face and smile into it, and then proceeds to tell me all about her day in her own wonderful language.

At bedtime, she has a feed, makes her cute little full-bellied-going-to-sleep-now faces.  I place her onto the pillow that we share, but that she is intent on making her own.  She breathes or snores and makes it impossible for me to easily drift off to sleep and join her, but her face is so peaceful and beautiful...how can I possibly be annoyed with that face??!!  I tell her that I love her and "good night" and thank the Universe yet again.  I shouldn't be hormonal anymore, but I still am often overwhelmed by emotion at this point of the day.

Mom, I understand now 100%...

Hello World!

When I studied Computer Science at CSUF (California State University, Fullerton), every new programming class had some sort of "hello world" basic first assignment, so please consider this to be the same.

I've never really understood the point of blogging, but in recent days, I've come to see it as a digital diary and an opportunity to pull my thoughts out of my brain and place them somewhere.  I'm too lazy to write it out by hand, so here we are.  I've always been lousy at keeping a diary, so we'll see how frequently I update this, but at the moment I have a million thoughts floating about, so that should keep me busy for at least a short while and perhaps long enough for this to become a habit.

I'll close by explaining the title of this blog: Closing Doors and Opening Windows.  The past couple of years have been very difficult for my husband (Big S) and I.  Big S was laid off in December 2008, after 1.5 years of trying to get pregnant I had a miscarriage in March 2009, I was then laid off the following month, then the bad luck continued when a few weeks later, my cat that I had raised from birth was hit by a car and killed.  I was sad and miserable for a long time at so much loss in such a short time period, but the saying about time healing all wounds has always proven true for me, though I disagree that they are healed, rather, the pain is lessened.  We were the poorest I've ever been in my life, to the point of having a family member buying groceries for us each week.  Bad times....

So many doors were not just closing, but slamming in our faces that it was difficult to see the point of waking up in the morning.  BUT, all that time on our hands gave Big S and I the chance to spend quality time together, and those of you who are on FaceBook know that we now have a 3 month old and an evolving relationship as a result.  I had the opportunity for fertility testing that resulted in the most wonderful baby I could have possibly asked for.  I learned that I need very little in the way of "stuff" to be happy, so I have become more frugal and choosy about my purchases.  For all those closing doors, many windows were left open for me and I thank the Universe for them daily.

In our deepest sorrow it is difficult to believe that there are any windows, but with some time to start healing and a spark of positive attitude that gains momentum, we can usually begin to feel the draft.