Shadows of the Night

My daughter gets very fussy at night. She is exhausted and rubs her eyes and cries but she just won’t go to sleep. She fights it like a heavyweight champion. Of all the things she got from me, this was the one thing I didn’t want her to copy. But oh well. 

We try to rock her to sleep and sing lullabies and every other thing in our arsenal of baby tricks. Sometimes they work but most of the time, they don’t. One thing that she seems to like but that isn’t always successful in getting her to nod off is the mobile.

It lights up and has some plush animals that hang down from it – a flamingo, a hippo and a frog. It also plays classical music. This same classical music puts me and my husband to bed almost instantaneously. It is not that effective with my little cookie. I know the music so well that I find myself humming it when I do other things around the house. 

We keep the bedroom very dark at night so the only light you see is the one from the mobile. In the early days when she was just learning about her body, we could see her looking at the shadow of her hand in the light from the mobile. Now we watch as she kicks the animals. She has shown a proclivity towards punching the hippo and smacking the flamingo as they go by. I am not sure what to expect when we go to the zoo for the first time. 

The title of this blog comes from a song by Pat Benatar. The video was about a female fighter pilot during WWII as they make a night bombing. I thought it fitting for this entry because there are times when I feel so tired after trying to get her to sleep that I crash like a bomb into bed. But it also works because she loves to watch the shadows of her limbs in the light from the mobile against the wall. I hope in the months to come she will embrace sleep and not try to keep it so far away.

Cooking Demonstration

One of the things that I have liked most about being a mom has been talking to my baby. She probably doesn’t understand a single word I am saying but she pays attention to me. I know this might be one of the few times in our relationship where she is rapt with attention by what I have to say. 

So I have been taking advantage of this situation by talking to her about the most inane things (like the plots of all the movies I love) to serious things (the upcoming elections) to things that I have learned (how stretching your muscles will avoid pain in the long run and about).

Among the things I have learned is how to cook so I spend a lot of time talking through some of my favorite recipes. The first thing I talked through was how to make lentil soup. I explained how you need carrots, celery and onions because they are aromatics so they add flavor and depth to recipes. I informed her that there are many kinds of lentils and some need to cook longer than others. Then I told her my secret ingredients, which I know will be safe with her (her not speaking at this moment comes in very handy for my cooking oeuvres). 

She seemed pretty interested the first few times I cooked for her.  A number of other times, she didn’t seem as fascinated as I wanted her to be (namely because of a surprise dirty diaper).  Lately she is more mesmerized by the shiny pots and pans that hang in the kitchen. All I can say is that I tried and maybe as she gets older, she will be more intrigued by my cooking demonstrations. For now, I will just keep trying until there is a recipe that makes her mouth water and captures all her attention.

The Calm After the Storm

Hurricane Sandy came and went. She took a lot with her when she left - many lives and houses were taken in her movements. Parts of New Jersey and New York are completely flooded and the power is out for many people. So many people are displaced and things will take a long time to get back to normal.

It has been so sad to see all the damage - not only for this storm but also when we think of all the ones this country has had in the last few years. It's always so hard to see the pictures and the reports of the devastation when it comes to natural disasters because there is so little that we can do to avoid it. Even if you take precautions ahead of time, there is no guarantee. How can you avoid a generator from blowing out and having to evacuate a hospital in the middle of the night? No matter how many sand bags you put up, how can you escape a storm surge that is 12+ feet above sea level. You can only hope and pray for the best and even that isn't enough.

I have seen my beloved city go through so much in the past decade and more. Thankfully, we do have a way of getting back on our feet. But those initial pictures and those early moments are so disheartening. You do begin to wonder if there isn't some universal force that has it in for the Big Apple.  Like those times before, we will work together and we will survive. Even if we have to do it under such difficult circumstances.

Luckily my family is fine and I am thankful for that. But my heart and prayers go out to all those that have not been as lucky. I wish that I had magic to clear away all the damage and destruction. Since I don't have those powers, I send my help in some other way. Please take a moment to help those who have not been fortunate in Sandy's path.

Fireworks and Thunder

Babies make a lot of noise. Most of it is made up of crying but there are other noises that emanate from babies that are far more perplexing at times. 

There have been the shrieking sounds before the crying, which my husband says sound like pterodactyl cries. There are whimpers when they are about to cry. The ‘ooooh’ sounds when the baby witnesses something great or interesting or is probably doing something in their diaper. My little girl makes some ‘who’ sounds like an owl that are just delightful. 

The list could not be complete without the frightening explosive sounds that come from her diaper area though -- Frightening in that they are so loud for such a small little body.  They often sound like the climactic exchange between fireworks and thunder. They always signify a diaper change. And an occasional disbelief that what is in the diaper has a hue that cannot be found in nature.

The first time I heard this noise, I was preparing to take my baby out on a walk in her stroller. She was preparing for a nap and then I heard the horrible noise. I began to worry that I should probably stay far away from her in case there was some projectile object about to come my way. Despite the noise, she did not wake up. In fact she seemed calmer than I had ever seen her up to that point. I wondered if I should bring her out. 

I called my husband and told him the situation. I asked if it would be a good idea to bring her out and he said ‘You know how she is when she poops, it doesn’t seem to bother her.” I didn’t know for sure if she had pooped at that point because it was only the second time I heard the opera of explosions. I decided to take my chances and go on our walk.

When I returned from the walk, I did change her diaper and there wasn’t any surprise inside the package. My baby just had some gas. However it was a sound that would historically make people hide in underground bunkers. It was noise that produced fear. A noise that was not run of the mill for any child around whom I’ve been.  I am sure there are more surprises in store as I continue on my parental journey.

Cruel Joke

Any parent, regardless of their newness to the community, will tell you that parenthood is not easy. I know I will have my share of difficulties but these first few weeks have been interesting so far. 

Beside the lack of sleep, there are other things going on physically that make dealing with and adjusting to a new baby challenging. As a woman, parts of your body have stretched and undergone changes that you can’t begin to understand despite all the reading you might have done. You feel like different parts of your body will fall out of their usual place. So you walk around trying to keep everything together as best as you can. 

One of the best ways to do that is to get sleep. However with a baby that wants and needs to be fed every 2 to 3 hours, it’s difficult to get the kind of sleep to which you are accustomed. So you sneak those naps in and you feel better momentarily. You continue to walk around like a zombie, except that you aren’t looking for brains. You just want some sleep. You can barely keep your balance because the body underneath you seems to be giving way from under you. 

With lack of slumber everything seems more confusing and more difficult than usual. You can’t figure out why the baby is crying even though there are only so many options (burp?, diaper?, hunger?, temperature?). You struggle to make sense of this little bundle and you seek out advice. And every bodies counsel seems to contradict the words you previously got from someone else. You can’t rely on your rational thinking because the synapses that usually fire have gone on strike. 

On top of that you encounter contraptions, such as the car seat or the stroller, that are far more complicated than they need to be in general. When you add the fact that you have no more coordination, they become the most daunting tasks in the arsenal of mommies and daddies. 

Despite this all, it makes you melt when you see your baby smile. Should your tiny one coo at you, then everything you just went through disappears. Moments when your baby isn’t crying seem like tangible pieces of heaven and it is all worth it. At least until the next time you are startled awake and are tumbling over your own feet.

Labor Day

In the United States the first Monday in September is traditionally the day when we celebrate work. We call it Labor Day. It is a national holiday and we have the day off so that it is a long weekend. Work in this sense is the kind where we go on a daily basis from 9-5 or whatever your profession’s time frame is.

This year Labor Day meant a little more to me than just work – and the joy of having a three day weekend. It was ironic because I gave birth during this weekend and spent some time in the Labor and Delivery area of my local hospital. Needless to say, my daughter arrived just shy of actual Labor Day so she has a wicked sense of humor like her mom. 

It all started Sunday morning. I woke up feeling fine and feeling a little odd that my baby’s due date came and went. I went to the gym as usual and came home. I was making plans to have brunch with my sister and to go run some errands together. That plan fell short very quickly when I got a very painful cramp that I had not felt during my pregnancy. I told my sister not to worry that it probably was nothing. Until it was something because not even 5 minutes later, I had another cramp and felt the need to go to the bathroom to urinate.

My bathroom visit gave me the visual cue that this was in fact active labor. I came out of the bathroom to announce “Guys, it’s time”. This set the house in a frenzy because my mom had just come over with groceries. When my husband notified her that it was time to go to the hospital, she wasn’t sure what to do with the groceries she had just purchased. She rushed home to put them away.

My main concern, outside of breathing through the contractions was, I need to eat something. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it through labor without food in my stomach. So my sister ran to get me a bagel and cream cheese because that was the quickest thing that could be prepared and eaten on the way to the hospital.  Once she arrived from the local deli, we were off and my sister spent the night with my dogs. It was very comforting to know they would be in good hands.

We met my mom outside and I tried to talk her out of not coming to the hospital but being a stubborn Italian woman, there was not much I could do to convince her. We jumped in a cab and when we got to the hospital, I proceeded to eat my bagel. We saw the doctor outside the doors and her comment was “Just don’t eat anything you don’t want to see later."

After completing my breakfast, we went up to the Labor and Delivery floor. We registered and proceeded to wait in the triage room. As I was timing my contractions and feeling like I was going to die, the other women in the room were reading books. I kept thinking, they must be getting induced or they are much stronger than me. It was the former. 

My doctor came in to tell us there were no beds available yet as there were many people who decided to give birth that same day.  “Must have something to do with Labor Day and the full moon,” she said. I continued to wait and breathe and finally she came to ask the women waiting if we could jump ahead. Luckily they figured out I was in active labor so they let me go ahead of them. When we finally got set up with an IV and on the fetal monitor, I was 4-5 centimeters dilated. It was painful but I was breathing through it as much as possible. 

Eventually I was moved into my own delivery room and the doctor notified me that I was only at 6-7 centimeters. The pain at this point was excruciating – breathing techniques and digging into the bed weren’t doing very much to help me through the intense and unending contraction. Incredulously I said to the doctor, “That’s it?” At that moment, I asked the nurse for an epidural. She got that going because there was no way I would make it through the next couple centimeters without some pain assistance. 

The anesthesiologists came to administer the epidural which baffled my mom. She was couldn’t understand what they were doing so I explained to her that it was for pain. She was worried about the ramifications. Once I got the epidural, things were definitely better. I could still feel the contractions but not the pain. One side of my body however became completely numb and I couldn’t feel it. I tried to move my leg around to get some circulation going but it wasn’t much help. It was like moving a boulder with a feather. 

I progressed from 7-8 centimeters but then my contractions got weaker. My baby wasn’t yet quite in place to come out. Finally I got to 9 cms but my contractions weren’t any stronger. They decided to give me pitocin – a medicine to make the contractions stronger. But as the contractions got stronger, I was feeling pain on the other side of my body. So the anesthesiologist was called in to give me some more medication.  Apparently this extra medication didn’t make my baby happy and she was stressing out in my stomach. Her vital signs showed a change and she ended up pooping inside of me. 

At that point the doctor came clean and said that I had to start to push because the baby needed to come out. I wasn’t yet at 10 cms but it would have to be done. So delivery began. 

Oh and how could I forget that moments after I got the epidural, I began to vomit incessantly? It seemed like every two minutes whatever was in my stomach decided it didn’t want to be there anymore. The doctor didn't know earlier that her comment about eating would come to fruition. If it weren’t for this, delivery wouldn’t have been so bad. But every time I pushed, I wanted to throw up on the doctor. I’m sure that she has had this happen before but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just gag on myself or the doctor to try to push.

Less than an hour of delivery, my little cookie was born and as the doctor stitched me up, my husband took a million pictures. My mom nearly passed out from all the blood she had seen come out of me and especially from seeing the placenta being delivered. I am not sure how she didn’t throw up herself but her face said it all. For a few days after giving birth, my mom couldn’t stop saying how much blood I had lost. I told her that she probably lost just as much but she retorted “Yeah but I didn’t see it.” I had to give her credit – those screens must have been a good thing. I could see a lot of what was happening in the plastic visor that covered my doctor’s face. 

It is a wonder how so many women go through this type of work on a daily basis. Somehow we labor and deliver babies all over the world every minute of every day. Not only do we celebrate mothers on Mother’s day but we should also honor them on Labor Day as well.