Dummie Diaries

I’m having some troubles in this new life. Emotionally and physically.

Emotionally - because I am terribly lonely yet it is a real faff to get out of the house now. So I’m getting weird and hermit like as I normally do spending almost no time around anyone but myself and my shadow. (With sprinklings of the Mister.)

I also hate that our families are missing out on knowing my little girl but also myself as a mother. That is the biggest draw-back to being an international couple. (My husband is South African, my daughter is British and I am American.) Our holiday time is spent visiting families - in turns and only if we can afford it. (Which this year also seems unlikely-flights just keep getting more and more expensive!)

Motherhood is taking to me like a sandpaper on bare-skin because it is the first job where I have no breaks. (How do I write these consistently? Little by little over a month, during naps or sometimes one handed while feeding her.)

No more “me” time - and boy is my mustache and crows feet proof of that!

Physically - between my back, arms, neck going to pot from excessive usage and contorting my body into odd positions in order to make madame hush or sleep.

I am zonked. Sleep deprivation, I thought I knew you well before but this is a whole new thing.

Yet I am a lot more stationary than before which is not helping me “bounce back” into my pre-baby body. (Not including the physical healing my body is still doing. Labour is a battle, I tell ya!)

But through all my wingeing, complaining and selfish rhetoric (sorry childless friends for the almost endless rants - don’t let it scare you!) - I love Peaches. Like crazy obsessive “I will destroy you with my bare-hands if you even look at her funny” kind of love.

My pre-parenthood days seem a lifetime ago, and I guess in a way they were.

So I am in a kind of mourning stage of that old life.

Taking deep gulps of Her surroundings. Insisting our attention is directed appropriately. Raspberry giggles and silent smiles Do there job.

Where to begin? With a funny anecdotal story about trying to leave the house in time for baby class when Peaches (my daughter, not her real name) has a blow out and as I am changing her she pees and vomits everywhere?

No, not there as although I laughed when it happened at the absurdity of my new situations-but later cried because it caused us to miss our bus, miss our class and I miss the only opportunity for adult contact outside my husband that week.

And I felt bitter towards my infant that afternoon, mature right?

Or perhaps I will begin with how every fibre in my body begs for the sweet relief of some “me time” or a break from mommy mode but I also feel uncomfortable with the idea of being away from Peaches for over an hour?

No, not there as I don’t really have any other options as it is just the hubs and I. He works and I am on maternity leave. Case closed.

Or should we begin with how I am astounded at the rate that Peaches is developing? Nah, that’s boring!

Oh well, I may not be able to decide where to start but I know where to end as lil darling ain’t gonna burp herself!

Staring into the Eternal space Concentrating on your hands Or the shadows on the wall Needing your thumb in your mouth Demanding your thumb in your mouth

I was going to reword “Purple Haze” with a parody version called “Baby Brain” but realized that is very not necessary. So below I have only replaced the title with my own :

“Baby all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky.

Baby Brain all around, don’t know if I’m coming up or down. Am I happy or in misery? Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me.

Help me Help me Oh no, oh

Yeah, Baby Brain all in my eyes, don’t know if it’s day or night, you’ve got me blowing, blowing my mind is it tomorrow or just the end of time?

Help me, yeah, Baby Brain!”

Yes indeedy, that pretty much sums up what is going on over this way recently.

I am a Mother.

I had written out the entire gory detailed story on how it had come about but my Health Visitor arrived shortly after and I lost it all. Always press save!

Oh well, no one really wants to read about the whole thing - so I shall summarise.

It was long, it was not straight forward and it ended with the best surprise of my life. The Midwives, student Midwives, Doctors, surgical team, anesthesiologist & hospital staff were all fantastic.

Notable moments : - Sixty-four hours of contractions and no sleep during latent labour. - Injuring myself during the beginning of my active labour. - My “Labour Mix” playing a random selection of showtunes and songs that relax me for twelve hours straight repeatedly. - Frustratingly seeing my three cheerleaders face go from elation to depression with every push. - The doctor informing me we were now in an emergency situation. - Holding my student Midwife’s hand all through surgery. - Watching “the worst magic trick” happening to my vagina from the reflection in the lights. - Repeatedly saying ‘shit’ upon seeing my child pulled from me. - My husband telling me we have a daughter. - Realising our wants/needs/sleep are taking a backseat to this tiny human’s.

Maternity Leave has begun! Now I can relax, right?

Right?!

Oh wait, I’m about to become someone’s mother. I swear I was just sitting on my parent’s couch watching Nickelodeon and munchin’ on Cheetos just last week. And hey - what’s this? I’m going to be in charge of maintaining another being’s life? Say - whaaaaaaaat.

But we will do our best and hey, let’s work through this list of “TO DOs” and wow we zoomed right through that. Annnnnnd now I am bored. So, baby you might as well come out already.

Ooo.

Was that a contract- ooooooo, breath, this too shall pass. Oh, oh, oh, I am not ready, not ready baby, you can just chillax… and it has passed.

Well, nothing is happening today so let’s re-read the Harry Potter series to distract ourselves from time trickling away.

Falls asleep.

Let’s take a walk around the neighbourhood to get the juices flowing again. This is such a good place to raise a kid - only two more windows were broken overnight & theirs two teenagers fishing from the coy pond. Those neighbourhood scamps!

Back home! Did you miss me Professor Whiskers? Cat, stop staring at my stomach it makes me uncomfortable.

Did this baby just a crapload of weight in the night - don’t pee yourself, don’t pee yourself and touchdown!

Four hours until the man comes home better think of something to make for dinner. Pinteresting turns into youtube watching and crap! “Honey I’m home!”

I feel like I am in “Groundhog Day” as this happens in some order, everyday.

I know I should be enjoying it.

But I am not.

Children are off the streets and back in school. Outfits are becoming more layered as jackets make their appearance. The days are getting shorter and leaves are thinking about changing their costumes. There’s a crispness in the air at night and my “feeds” are full of (American) Football updates.

Fall is here! 

The trouble with this time of year (oh, I’m starting to sound a little Andy Rooney-esque) is that I crave the U.S. Autumnal traditional foods. Basically tailgating foods, Apple & Pumpkin spiced things. None of which I can just get on a whim. It takes meticulous planning, subversive online shopping and some experimenting in the kitchen. To be honest, all of which is too much work or money for me to stomach (for my stomach).

(Now, someone send me some Fritos, Redhots & Candy Corn - ASAP!)

Getting less and less and less sleep these days, why is that - you probably aren’t asking aloud while reading this. Well! Between getting up to pee 3 to 6 times a night, charley horse attacks, aggressive rummaging of my innards from baby and just sparking awake angry at some transgression happening (to me or not to me) in the world; it is hard to tell why my time spent in dreamland is dwindling.

Bad sleep! Go to my room!

I was going to write specifically about public transportation commuting woes (or more likes whoas! Air five to myself) but now want to delve into the main problem. It is not the exertion of constantly walking from stop to station trying to make connections. Or the extraordinary amount of waiting I do if their are delays, strikes or cancellations. Nope. It is commuters who are stressing me out but more specifically women commuters. 

Men may altogether ignore my presence - if I don’t exist they do not need to make leg room available, allow me time to pass or give up their seat on crowded transportation (unless it is a designated area for those less able to stand when they will schlep their lazy butts out of the seat). 

This is typical male behaviour I have been experiencing since wearing my “Baby On Board” badge.

Females exhibit slightly different behaviour. Women will glare at me, give me an up-and-down look and verbally make their disapproval known. Oh, some do ignore, do not get me wrong but more often my presence becomes a mental burden that they must communicate to the environment we share. Women will also maintain eye contact as they refuse to share leg room, give up their seat on crowded transportation (including designated areas) or allow me enough space to pass. They whack me with their bags/purses as they pass by, crowd me to an uncomfortable intimate proximity and bump into me hard without apology. 

This is not to say that all women exhibit these behaviours, that, would be an ignorant and grossly inaccurate statement. The unkind and unnecessary stress inducing commuting incidents I have experienced have all been caused by women. (So far.) 

An example: I asked a women to allow me access to the empty seat beside her which turned into being trapped window-side by an irrate individual who yelled at me the entire 30 minutes. That was the first time I feared for this growing life as she also showed me a large and deep scar on her stomach in the midst of her shouting. (We ended up getting off at the same station, she followed be out and I lost her in a crowd of tourists.) 

What was she saying? Cannot say. I did as everyone else in that car and ignored her as I increased my headphone’s volume. 

Well, this is a bit of a bummer to end on (believe me, I wish my relevation was not so!) but I just hope women reading this will actively decide to be kinder on our sex. Give ourselves a break and exhibit a smidge more kindness.

Or I could mention the pigeon that flew into my face (yes, smack into my nose like an aggressive tickle with a dense balloon covered in feathers) as I was walking to work.

We both pretended it didn’t happen.

I officially have a bump now! Or, as the mothers at work have pointed out - “you’ve gotten big really quickly, like, really big! are you okay?”. Which is.. sweet of them. With my stomach and hair growing quicker than I am used to - I have taken action on the only one I could truly control. 

MY STOMACH and I’m fasting like I’ve never fasted before! Just kidding. I have chopped all my hair off into a pixie cut. My hair was not long before but now it is much less so now - for the first time in 25 years I do not have the same looking bangs. Thought I needed a big change in my life as growing a human is so everyday / hum drum.

In other news, I fear I may be becoming my father, weirdly, in this pregnancy.  

Ex.1) I’ve been enjoying making up silly songs about my hip pains / gas to the tune(s) of The Beatles “Hippy Hippy Shakes” and “Here Comes the Sun”. Just use your imagination on how those would go. 

Ex. 2) I also enjoy annoying the little critter, already! It is fun balancing things on my stomach and seeing if it can kick it off. Whenever loud sounds scare fetus - I laugh. One of the reasons I really enjoyed watching “Jurassic World”.

In between this tomfoolery we are dealing with the reality of our situation. We are n00bs to this parenting world with the extra fun of living thousands of miles from our respective families. We do not have a vehicle. Live no where near our friends (whom do have cars yet not all have children). So feelings of isolation have been hugging away at my soul. Squeezing bouts of anxiety and sadness into my daily life. It’s a terrible feeling. BUT - we do live in an expensive area for childcare! Hooray! More money worries!

We got that going for us.

I was out on our fire escape painting a recently acquired second-hand crib on a beautiful London summer afternoon. The door buzzer went marking the arrival of some plumbers to do some needed apartment maintenance.  I, wearing painting attire, my husband’s oversized birkenstocks & holding the wet paintbrush in my hand, left the fire escape door and apartment door wide open to waddled downstairs to let them in the building. Halfway down our door slams shut. Picturing my hanging keys hanging delicately inside my apartment - I walk into the bank below us (we share fire escapes) hair high as a cockatoo, shuffling in trying not to drip paint and not panic about the cat possibly escaping the apartment through the open outside door (she is not an outdoor feline).

After 30 minutes of these shenanigans we (the workers, fetus & I) made it back into the apartment and find kitty asleep on my bed unaware of her one chance to freedom. 

So if a baby is anything like a house cate, well, I’m going to be fine.

I’m going to be fine.

I’m fine.

We were vegging out to an evening movie when it hit. An odd squirmy twitch wiggling an area inside of my body that has never been waggled before. I leapt up off the couch flustered, turned and gawked at my husband in a Nicholas Cage sort of way. The feeling came again and I could only say, “new movement, weird, no...” before the fella started laughing. 

Now with being able to occasionally feel this little critter moving it has made it harder to hide this pregnancy at work.

 I had not even been wearing my “Baby on Board” badge from TFL for my commute until I fainted whilst standing on a crowded morning train. (Which is a whole other fun / embarrassing story in itself). 

All these new things happening to my body - which, a lot of I had no idea were a possibility! 

So.

Aunt Flow never arrived - I took four more pregnancy tests. Three said yes, one said no. Conveniently I already had an appointment with my GP that week - brought the results to her and whammo! 

Everything suddenly began moving very, very fast. Decisions were made on which hospital to deliver in, midwives, vitamins, blood tests and so many pamphlets. I felt like Indiana Jones - just trying to keep pace and not get smooshed by the boulder. 

Let’s leave out the amped up bloat-zilla body I now have, and the constant nausea or vomiting for a second. 

Emotionally, I feel like I'm walking a tight rope.  With each glance below (I know you're not supposed to look down, but damnit I'm far from zenned out) comes a wave of isolation or exaltation or anxiety or excitement or blurting this secret or not even wanting to mention anything on the subject. The fact that my partner and I are foreigners living far from our respective home countries probably is playing a huge part. 

Our family is more in contact now - checking in on us more often, which is great. 

But some friends are already checking out on us - which sucks.

I have been feeling a little odd the last few weeks or more. 

My attention span damn this keyboard sticking down longer than necessary what is that jam? has been unpredictable. My creativity has dropped away and the thought processing center in brain has become... fuzzy.   

My grandfather passed away recently and as I live thousands of miles away, am unable to attend his memorial service. It’s tough not being able to be there for my family at this time - and them for me. This may explain my emotional ups and downs as of late. But I having more trouble bouncing back from the downs this time around. 

Because I frequently jump to conclusions - I took a pregnancy test and failed it. Not as in it read as negative but as in I don't even know how to pee appropriately on a plastic stick.  

Well, maybe I'm just about to have the mother of all periods.

So we're dipping our metaphorical toe (penis) into the water (vagina) without our socks (prophylactic) on.

We’re here at the time in life and this is happening. And I'm pretty stoked about it. Stoked might be too hip or colourful of a word so let's replace it with I'm pretty okay about it. 

Whilst balancing my time between reading perfect mommy blogs, pinterest-ing baby topics and doing actual work my emotions are dramatic. I jump from thoughts of "I'M INFERTILE! THESE GENETICS WILL END HERE. WOE, IS ME!" and "POOP! WHAT IF I AM ACTUALLY PREGNANT? HOW CAN I BE A MOTHER?!" Both of which are equally great signs and scream motherhood readiness.  

Why I am not a different sort of dumdum is beyond me. The kind of person that becomes impregnated and is oh-so surprised to find out at twelve weeks along. The shock that her patented fool's proof “pull out” form of birth control didn't work, and why no one explained this in sex ed classes. Sadly no, I'm the kind of dumdum who listened in sex ed, abstained and even got nervous taking a shower in co-ed shared housing. The type that occasionally overthinks things causing my own little anxiety roller coaster. (What the hell does she mean by that?!)