UPDATES OF A YEAR LATER

rf's girls

This is us now.

Oona, our firecracker, the livewire, our chatterbox of a little girl. She's so excited with everything. Stricken with acute bronchitis early January 2010, she was so dehydrated that she couldn't make a sound for about a week. When she recovered, it was as if all the words she ever heard in the few years she spent on earth were bursting out of her mouth even if she still couldn't say them all properly.

i love chips mom.

She often gets frustrated that she can't be understood or express the burgeoning feelings and thoughts filling her ever growing heart and mind. She's so much a little girl, a big baby and a wise sentient being all rolled into one huggable bundle. I sometimes have difficulty remembering she's a child whenever something amazingly profound or unexpected comes out of her mouth. She jumps, she sings, she dances and has two imaginary friends, Mort (or is it Mork?) and Kays she talks to on any phone. She is also now fully toilet trained. Just like that, in diapers one day, in ruffled panties the next. Sure she had a few accidents and we carried diapers for a few days (still do for long trips and no-available-toilet emergencies), but it wasn't months or years of bed-wetting et al.

She's very protective of her little sister Olly whom she calls her baby. I can only hope and pray that they become each other's best friend when they grow up. Knowing that they look out for each other is enough for me and I can die in peace.

I feel GOOD!
tananananananaaaa!!!

Olivia Eleanor was born one fine night, 1042pm on February 19, 2010 at 40 weeks. I was induced as the OB didn't want to risk Olly going past her due date. With my epidural fix, I wasn't  in terrible pain and everything went well. RF was able to join me after a minor delay at the nurses' station where they were hesitant to take RF's bag and laptop. They finally took it when our anesthesiologist ran out and scolded them for keeping him there while Olly was already crowning for about 5 minutes already! I was on a pause button for five minutes waiting for him while he argued outside the DR.

mommy's three babies!

Anyhoo, Olly came out, beautiful baby! with nary a hitch. After two hours, that's when I started bleeding a lot. I felt like I was dumped into a vat of ice! I was breastfeeding Olly in the recovery room when I felt like the worst  hangover ever. I was so thirsty, my mouth was so dry but I felt leaden and my limbs were blocks of ice. I told the nurse to get Olly, check my bleeding and that I'm about to pass out (which I promptly did)...Next thing I knew I was swimming in and out of consciousness, faces and voices floated around me and the ceiling lights kept changing. It turned out that I had what a uterine atony where the uterus could not contract and therefore could not stop pouring blood long enough for clotting to happen. I had to be reexamined and cleaned out to rule out a hysterectomy, bags of blood and plasma were transfused and family were called to be informed of how near I was to critical level. From a hypertensive 150-130/80 BP range, I had plunged to 90/50.

All that time I just kept praying that I live through it, intact, whole and still capable of at least one more child. I still wanted to give RF a son, give the world a chance to have another gentleman out there. The worst case scenario was the hysterectomy (the uterus would be taken out) and I did not want that. However, as the doctors said, it's your uterus or your life. Life, of course (but can I have my uterus too, pretty please?).

Anyhoo, it was all uphill from there. I recovered and my uterus is still here. RF and I agreed that we would wait a few years before having a third child. We want to focus on these two first, give my body a chance to heal and yes, our finances to stabilize a bit before welcoming another angel into our family.

It's been a riotous year. All in all, so much the rollercoaster ride. I have yet to experience uninterrupted sleep, a steady diet and more peaceful, quiet "me" times. RF and I have no date nights and a rare five minute shower all by myself still feels like a luxury.

But looking at these kids makes it all worth it. Oh so very much worth it all.

THE FIRST NINE MONTHS: THINKING ABOUT PARENTHOOD

RF and I didn't plan on becoming a couple. Nor did we plan to become parents. We wanted to have children but were unsure as to if and when we'll actually have them. I was more unsure than RF but towards the end of our first year of marriage, I was already thinking about it. We weren't using protection or any method to avoid pregnancy, but we weren't really going for gold.

I found myself looking at my tummy in the mirror sometimes. I was thinking how my belly, full with child, would look like. Of course, later on I would be sadly disappointed and would shy away from pregnant belly portraits that's still all the rage today because I just looked like a very fat woman who waddled like a very fat duck. But I wouldn't know that then!

I was fantasizing about what I would wear, recalling how my mom would look in her nice, long shifts. Nevermind later that I couldn't possibly wear her old preggy stuff. I was too large and overheated that I wanted shorter, lighter dresses with a bit of cleavage (Ha ha!).

True, fashion concerns are not the meat of it. But everything, no matter how seemingly trivial it is, matters. It contributes about how you feel about the whole thing.

One of the very few things we thought about before we actively tried to have Oona, was if we were ready for parenthood. As individuals, as a couple . . . was our marriage ready to welcome the responsibility and strain of raising another human being?

We had our fights. We had our preferences. We enjoyed our lifestyle. Was our lives big enough to share with someone else?

It does sound selfish, but they're actually realistic and honest questions I felt I had to answer. I wanted the chances of regret anytime in the future to be significantly small. Whether I wanted to or not, I didn't want our future child/children to consciously or subconsciously feel in any way that I blamed their birth for anything I might miss out on.

Exploring my feelings, I knew my life would change profoundly after having a child. I knew there were a lot of things I wouldn't be able to do anymore and a lot of things that would remain dreams. I would give up things, miss out on things and maybe regret things.

What about my career? I felt like a hotshot, with the world at my feet. I had so many dreams, plans . . . isn't motherhood going to stifle me? Wouldn't it hold me back? I run with the wolves, outstripping bulls and facing down everyday mayhem. I loved that life! What would happen to me when I suddenly stopped?

I felt a part of me would die but I had to face and deal with it, lay it to rest for my child's and my sanity's sake. I've read far too many disgruntled mother/housewife stories to want that for myself. Although I have no illusions about the future, even then, I would make damn sure I don't end up unhappy at the very least.

Me, as mother, being unhappy would affect how I would be as a Mom and a wife. I don't want my kids to hate me or wish for a different mother. Which begs the question, what kind of mother would I make? I've heard too many stories of horrible mothers too. What if I wasn't meant to be a mother? I really didn't want to find out when I already had a child that I would be unable to care for and love! Needless to say, I had a lot of angsts.

RF was a lot easier. He swanned gracefully, almost without effort, into the role of Dad. I would say Fatherhood becomes him . . . even the impending Fatherhood gave him an extra Oomph!

We talked about how our plans for the future would change, little knowing that talk barely just covers the possibilities, but it greatly helps.

At least, we nailed down the basics:
1. We love each other no matter what.
2. We're in it together.
3. We'll do our very best, always to the best of our abilities.

There would be less dates, unplanned trips, splurges or even drastic career shifts. Everything would be revolving around the welfare of the child and family, more than the pleasures we used to fantasize about. Very practical, very discipline life, very safe and I feared, very dead-end for me.

Then one night, I was home alone as usual, RF being on his night shift. I realized that despite all this worrying, I was really giving the baby and motherhood matter serious thinking. I wasn't shying away from it at all. For me that was an indication that I cared about the life we were bringing into the family. Family! We were going to be a family, our OWN little fan's club! Terribly exclusive.

I laughed, then I cried. I suddenly felt that I wanted it to be real at that very moment. Did this mean that I was ready? Hahaha. Right. Knowing what I know now, nobody's ever ready for motherhood. I also still believe that there are people who can't be parents but now I know, I'm not one of them.

What I realized then was that my heart felt so full of love and the cup that RF and I share, doth runneth over. (Ugh! Cheeeeeese!!!) There's really so much love to give and it's such a shame to waste on what now look like trivial pursuits that wouldn't make a difference a hundred years from now.

***

A part of me did die, but it was a welcome death. What mattered to me was that I found that a whole new part of me sprung up to live. Being a mother had its own adventures and did I really mind giving up late nights, hungover-sick mornings and going home to an empty house?

There are a myriad ways to fulfill oneself. I still don't know how my life would find expression aside from being wife and mother, but I'm not afraid to find out. I'm actually excited.

But above all else, pouring the love RF and I share to this amazing little girl is all that truly matters to us.

Oona's Growing Up

Oona's becoming more and more pilya.

Oona with an electrical cord (NYAAA!).
Don't worry, that's not the business end of it. She also doesn't put it in her mouth.
Plus she's well supervised. So lay off the lecture, self-righteous people! Get off my blog!

Of course, she's still as lovable as ever, and getting more so everyday. She's also developing a sketchy sense of right versus wrong already, but I'll be darned if she actually knows what right or wrong really means. Sometimes she thinks it's a game, until her plans (like opening the kitchen cabinet doors and going through the bigas) is foiled.

She knows that when Lola or Yaya Rina says "No" or starts shaking their heads, it means that whatever she's doing is, er - unadvisable. She merely takes it as a suggestion though. She somehow knows how to get around them by appealing to their tender-hearted natures with a sad, saaaad face.

She'll also appeal to her doting father with the look. I think all babies have that innate ability to look at you and make your insides melt at will. Ooh, POWER!!!

(<--- That's the "I am not amused" deadpan/blank stare.)

She's also developing a few impish tricks of her own.

An example would be, whenever she wants to go to the space behind the sofas (forbidden because we put the electric fan and the cables there, out of her reach), she'll "accidentally" drop a toy there and point to it. As soon as you move the barricades to pick up the toy, she'll make her move! She'll scoot past you on her little butt like greased lightning, laughing all the way! (She can toddle but she can't crawl on her hands and knees.)

Of course, she'll cry at the tragedy of being picked up and put out of harm's way when she's noticed. She'll sniffle a bit but she'll try the trick again...and again...and again.

I think the only way to counter the look is by developing the voice. It's a mother's most powerful tool, next to mom's the stare. Since the stare only seem to affect older kids than Oona (it varies or so I've heard), the voice seem to be a good alternative to develop.

I'm not so hot on spanking my kid, I mean jeez! She just turned one. I'm not about to yell at her either. But I figure we have to aggressively start her on discipline for her own protection. It's about time for her to learn that not everything is safe for her.

So far, when I use the firm tone in the voice she seems to be responding. She'll shake her head and pull her hand away from whatever dangerous thing she's bent on examining.

Then she looks at me. She grins.

. . . And does it again.

Sigh. I have an adorable imp of a daughter.

***

It brings to mind the blog series I wasn't able to finish. The last entry was about how we were just given the news that Oona, then called the Bean, was not attached to my womb securely. There was a threat that we could lose her.

***

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6
Keeping The Bean

“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”

I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.

Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.

It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.

How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?

I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.

We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.

Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.

“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”

I scoffed at Mr. F.

Right. Like that’s going to happen.

***

Of course now, she's as rambunctious as they come and RF is the spoiler! Hehe!

Time flies so fast!