1. Less awe at baby’s development – we are no less amazed at the miracle growing inside me, but this time it isn’t like discovering a whole new thing. I was 12 weeks before I subscribed to a pregnancy calendar

2. Less fear of doing things wrong – I know this time that it’s difficult to break a baby. Not that I am taking unnecessary risks, but if something happens (Like catching myself several mouthfuls into the Biltong before remembering ‘Oh hay, this is dried raw beef’) I don’t beat myself up about it.

3. People treat you as less special. People swoon over first time pregnant women. Your second child? ‘Oh, that’s nice’

4. You treat yourself as less special. Let’s face it, there is a house to run, a job to do, and a toddler who wants your undivided attention. There is less time and energy to be spent on feeling and behaving pregnant. Because if hubby does meet you at the door, you’d rather he entertain the toddler for a few minutes than fret over him not carrying your bags like he did in the last pregnancy.

5. Less silly purchases – in baby stuff and in maternity clothes. By know you know what works for you.

6. No guilt free eating – last time I shoved my face full of everything I felt like, because of course I would be able to loose it all after. But 4 times as much fat as baby does NOT simply drop off when baby is born. And newborns put terrible constraints on your exercise times.

7. I have become painfully aware of how little weight some other pregnant women pick up – women who look fantastic 5 weeks, and 12 weeks post partum, and it took me 14 months and some drastic measures to get within short-sitedness of my pre-preg weight.

8. Enjoying my boys last few months of being a single child. He has no idea how life is going to change! And I can let him grow up without lamenting the loss of my baby boy, because he doesn’t need to be my baby anymore.

9. Knowing I will cope. I was a complete novice last time – no baby experience at all – it’s good not to be so worried about coping.

10. Where are my fantastic finger nails? My nails were the best they have ever been last pregnancy. This time they re their same old brittle splitting selves.

We told Aidan this week about his new sibling on the way. He is 21 months old, so has no idea what we are on about, but tries to repeat what we say anyway, with some amusing results:

“Aidan is getting a yittle mister”
“Aidan is getting a master”
Before finally pulling of “Aidan is getting a sister”.

But the reaction of laughter he got from the “Aidan is getting a master” comment means that he still deliberately uses that mispronunciation sometimes

Yes my boy, we are all getting a new master, if my recollection of your early days is correct!

What happens if I have a baby girl who isn’t as beautiful as my little boy?

In case you were wondering, this is what my most gorgeous boy looks like now:

Fun in the flowerbeds:

Not so tasty afterall:

Just the two of us:

Went out for a friends hen night on saturday – 10 more sleeps Kylie! – and stayed out way too late. Got home right as Aidan was demanding his 4AM bottie. I didn’t drink much so I wasn’t battling any hangovers, but it seems my immune system is a tad fragile at the mo. I didn’t get the opportunity to catch up any sleep on Sunday, and the resultant breach in the immune defenses has left me with a fiery throat, post nasal drip and ringing ears – with the accompanying light headedness. Not fun. Rather annoying in fact.

But now, one day later it seems like Aidan is coming down with the same thing. Not enough of a gap there for me to have given it to him, I suspect we both picked it up from the same place. Thing is, I can’t recall us being around any sick people 3-5 days ago. We did visit my SIL and Aidans cousins on sunday but they were all in good health…

It’s so frustrating. It seems to me like my boy gets sick from every sick person he encounters. When is his immune system gonna strengthen up? He’s a well fed boy, I have him on a multi-vit designed especially for respiratory tract support and it’s still summer! What more can I do without barricading us in the house 24-7-365?

Argh. Imagine what we’d be like if he were still in daycare?

Kay, I’ll stop whining now and get my sorry arse to bed. Maybe we’ll all wake up healthy in the morning.

 

All bounced out

So we sleep under a Blessed sky tonight, and hope our luck holds for another 354 days.

Raise your glasses to 2010.

Three years before I started a blog I started a blog. Hunny created it and told me to post some stuff on it. I didn’t grasp the concept very well at the time, but I wrote some stuff and posted it. And then I promptly forgot about it.
I have no idea where it is now. It’s out there somewhere still, I’m sure, but I don’t even recall the name, and I didn’t put my name to it, so chances are good I won’t ever find it again.

This blog can’t suffer that fate, if only because I own its domain, and that domain is my name. So unless I forget me name, it’s safe. It’s not safe from neglect though, I’ve proved that time and again.

I’d like to find that old blog of mine though. It was a great snapshot of my life at the time. In a crushing job, planning a wedding on shortish notice, and suffering greatly under the stress that came from the crappy job.

My how times change! Now I’m married, have a gorgeous boy child, and really battle to get freak-out stressed about work. Pity that, because that level of stress is a great diet plan for me. Sure I get annoyed; angry sometimes. And when faced with something new and daunting I still get some knots in my stomach. But that’s nothing like the wreck I used to be when things weren’t working and I had to go and sit in the toilets for a while lest I cry in front of my co-workers.

Two things have contributed to this. First off, I have a much better bunch of colleagues. These guys do actually work as a team, not against one another. But mostly it’s Aidan. I finally have the ‘this is not the end of the world’ perspective I have always been searching for in my work-life.
Because seriously, the world will not end if our software is down for a little while. Hell, I don’t even work on the kind of stuff that could kill a couple of people if it’s not operational (think medical software), never mind the stuff that launches nuclear weapons and kills whole nations.

Now when 2PM comes around, I go home. Sure I’ll pitch in and stay a little longer if it will actually achieve results, but now I have a boy to go and collect, and love, and be fascinated by, and be frustrated by, and laugh at, and laugh with, and teach, and learn from. And that is just so much bigger than any job I have ever done.

I have the cutest 7 month old ever

This one’s more a testimony to the size of Hunny’s boot than it is the size of Aidan…

Happy chappie

This ones my favourite

I contemplated the title to this entry for a couple of days. Somehow joking about your own death doesn’t pack a punch, but joking about your child dying does. Funny that. But he didn’t die. Not even close. And thankfully, for the most part, I knew that he wouldn’t at the time.

Aidan gave us a big scare this past Easter weekend. When he got his first cold I thought I couldn’t possibly cope with more than that. But we got through it, and I felt stronger for that. Then when he got another cold/flu thingy and he ended up on antibiotics a month later I went through the same cycle: thinking that I couldn’t possibly cope with anything more than this, but as we emerged out the other side, feeling quite chuffed that we did.

Well, after last weekend I should feel positively pumping. So here’s a chronology of events. Warning for the squeamish – mention of blood, vomit and poop included

Saturday
10:30 AM: Drop Aidan at his Ouma’s (Afrikaans for granny) so we can go and do our monthly groceries uninterrupted, and because Ouma likes having Aidan to herself for a bit, and because he likes it too. He’s a little fractious when we leave, but he’s having a bottle and needs a nap, and we’re confident that Hunny’s mom can handle him

11:00 AM: Hunny’s mom phones while we’re sitting in some pointless and frustrating traffic resulting from a local craft market that doesn’t have easy enough access to it’s parking. I can hear Aidan crying in the background. MIL says he won’t settle and he’s vomited up his whole bottle and his morning porridge too. We do a quick about turn and race back.

11:15 AM: I’ve never seen my child this inconsolably unhappy before. He’s calm for a few minutes, and looks exhausted. Then he writhes in agony and contorts his little body, crying his heart out. We pack up his things and head straight to Sunninghill Casualty.

11:45 AM: Aidan has slept in the car chair on the way over, and seems more peaceful as we sit in the waiting room. As we are called though, he vomits again.

12:45 PM: The casualty doctors have given him some Buscopan for the cramps, some anti-nausea stuff, and some Stopain. They think its colic. We’re not 100% convinced, but he’s calm and he’s not vomiting or cramping. We go home.

14:45 PM: Aidan has had some water and some formula, and a nice long nap. But then he wakes up crying. I try to comfort him. He vomits all over me. Alwyn phones casualty and they say bring him in again.

15:30 PM: The doctor examines Aidan again, and sends him for x-rays.

16:00 PM: The x–rays show much gas but no obstructions. After Aidan vomited up the last of his stomach contents he seems happier, but is still cramping intermittently. Doctor still thinks its colic, and that I gave him too many fluids, and that’s what triggered it off again. Then he does a poo nappy. It’s red. Very red. You can smell the blood. I call the nurse. I assure her he hasn’t been eating beetroot.

16:30 PM: After doing another red nappy, Aidan seems happier, but the casualty nurses aren’t. One says dysentery. The others agree. I’m horrified. Where could he have picked that up from? Don’t children in poverty stricken villages in third world countries die from that?

16:45 PM: The nurses descend on mass. Taking bloods from his right foot. Inserting a drip needle into his left foot because the vein in his left collapsed. They’ve spoken to the Pediatrician on standby, she’s booking him in. I’m worried but trying not to let it show as I hold my child down for people to stick needles into him. Hunny is trying hard not to hit the doctors that don’t seem concerned enough or sympathetic enough.

17:30 PM: We’re in an isolation ward because of the dysentery thing. When I ask the nurse how he might have contracted dysentery she tells me about the virtues of hand washing. Aidan is on a fluid drip, antibiotics are on their way. He hasn’t cramped or vomited since the two red nappies. He’s dead tired but still trying to be charming for the nurses.

18:30 PM: The antibiotics are in the drip only a few minutes before Aidan kicks the needle loose and screams in pain. The nurse disconnects the drip, says she’ll be back in a few minutes to re-insert the needle. Hunny has gone home to feed the dogs and return with supplies. I’m staying with Aidan through the night, they let one parent stay. They provide a bed. Well, that’s what they call it.

19:10 PM: The night shift nurse introduces herself, says they’ll be back in a few minutes to take Aidan to reinsert his drip. My mom and sister have arrived to offer moral support. I nearly break down when I see them, but manage to pull myself together.

19:30 PM: Hunny arrives back with MacDonald’s, asks the nurses when they’re planning on reinserting Aidan’s drip needle. They’re busy, they’ll be there just now

20:15 PM: Finally, they take us to the procedure room to reinsert the drip needle. Only one parent can stay. I can’t leave my child, so it’s me. They scour his chubby limbs for a spot. The two good ones (his feet) are ruined, so they have to try a hand. Somehow this seems much worse than a foot to me. She manages it first time though, no mean feet. I can’t see a vein there.

21:00 PM: Mom and sis have gone, it’s just Hunny, Aidan and I in our isolation ward. Aidan’s finally falling asleep when the standby paediatrician arrives. She gets off on the wrong foot. “What’s the problem? Persistent high fever?” I start to loose it. No, I say. He’s been vomiting. Then she starts off about “… the thing with rotavirus” I cut her off. No-one has said rotavirus, they’ve said dysentery. She does a quick recovery by grouping the two together, and I stumble some kind of excuse-apology about it being a long day and everyone asking the same questions again and again. She carries on speaking, to Hunny only. I put my head on the bed next to my child and listen. Why is everyone writing down his symptoms if no-one is reading them?

21:10 PM: Aidan’s first blood test results arrive while the pead is still there. She explains them to us. She’s actually okay, I just wish she’d read the file before she came in. He’s not dehydrated, and has negative counts for bacterial infections, so the antibiotics are probably a waste of time. She’ll give him one more dose tomorrow just in case. No food for Aidan tonight though, I’m wondering how I’ll get him to sleep on an empty tummy.

22:00 PM: The ‘bed’ is a fold out armchair thing that looks as uncomfortable as it feels. Hunny’s just left, and Aidan and I are settling down for the night.
Sunday
04:45 AM: Aidan is awake and chipper. Not another symptom since the two red nappies the day before. Nurses came and went throughout the night, checking his vitals. We both got some sleep, but Aidan more than me. His bed was more comfortable. I could feel the bruises forming on my hips if I stayed in the same position for more than half an hour.

06:00 AM: I can’t distract him anymore, the boy is HUNGRY. I give him 50 ml’s he gobbles it down and cries with betrayal. I give him another 50 ml’s. He’s still not impressed.

07:15 AM: Hunny arrives with coffee for me and yoghurt for Aidan. I leave Aidan under his dad’s watchful eye while I wash-up and apply some make-up, so that I don’t look like the sick one. We give him some yoghurt at 8, he loves it:

11:45 AM: Hunny’s folks come to visit. His mom is so concerned that he’ll relate the terrible experience to her. I assure her that he won’t remember, and if he does then my betrayal is more memorable: I held him down for people to stick him with needles. I have the memory of my mom doing the same during a particularly bad bout of gastro when I was about 5. I couldn’t believe it at the time, my mom holding me down for the nurse while she gave me an injection. We’ve come full circle.

14:00 PM: We’re still at the hospital, but it’s looking likely that we’ll go home today. The paed will visit us later.

14:30 PM: We’re clear to go! The last bloods and cultures came back. The paed explains then to us. They tell us nothing. Negative for all the common viruses they check. Negative for bacteria. Paed doesn’t think he’s contagious. It no longer appears to be dysentery. We don’t know what it is, but further testing is deemed unnecessary.

15:00 PM: We’re home. Aidan and I take a nice nap together. It feels so surreal.

Two days later my relief at having a healthy child back has given way to frustration at not knowing what caused this. If I don’t know what it was then I don’t know what I can do to prevent it from happening again. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t dysentery. He was missing the major defining symptom. He never had diarrhea. He had also righted himself within 5 hours of the start of the symptoms, before the antibiotics had been administered. All forms of dysentery seem to have an onset of days. I’ve googled his symptoms and come up with one plausible but incomplete theory. I know I’ll need to let it go, but I’m not ready to just yet.

But my son is okay. If it weren’t for the 3 prick marks you wouldn’t know it ever happened. We have learnt one thing from this though: trust our instincts. Neither of us was convinced about the colic theory. We should have pushed harder at the first casualty visit.

And I’m proud of us. We made it through this. Back to the title of this post, I confronted a major fear of mine. Since he was born I have been harboring a fear of taking Aidan to the emergency room. Because then they might admit him. And I didn’t know if or how I would cope with that. Now it has happened, and I coped, and it’s not so scary anymore.

One of the most frequently asked questions to new moms who return to work is “So what did you do with the little one?”. If you say he’s at crèche, that’s usually followed by “So was it difficult dropping him off on his first day?” My honest answer: “Not really” I knew he was in good hands, and I was going to pick him up in a few hours, and I thought that he might benefit from someone a little more creative and entertaining than his mom for a bit.

What was difficult was at the end of the week, when he came down with his first fever, and then the next week, when he was full-blown sick with a cold: sore throat, phlegm in his throat & lungs, coughing. That’s what was difficult to handle. Then I did feel like an awful mother, subjecting my baby boy to that because I was selfish enough to go back to work.

He has recovered now, and without the use of antibiotics, thankfully, but not before he infected me, my mom and his dad. When I mention this to anyone else with small children in crèche or nursery school, they all smile knowingly and say “Ah, crèche syndrome”. My head knew it would happen, but my heart didn’t realize how awful I would feel when I couldn’t make my little boy better right away. That and knowing that I subjected him to the germs in the first place … Well, it was a rough week.

Now the poor boy is subjected to so many temperature checks that I swear his bum cheeks squeeze together when he sees the thermometer coming. Yes I know I could take an armpit temp, or get a fancy ear or forehead or dummy-shaped thermometer, but my reference book says bum temp’s are the most accurate, and if I’m not going to be a stay at home mom I must at least be accurate. I take his temp when I know its fine, and when I know it’s not. I obsess about it if I put him to bed without a temp check, and then do one at his midnight feed when I’m supposed to be doing my best not to wake him up completely. *sigh* At least he’s healthy again, for now.

Anyway, for June, and any other readers who are into photos of gorgeous baby boys, here he is. Click to enlarge.