I Miss You...

At this moment, Daddy Low is on a business trip, across the pond. He has been away for almost 5 days now, but it feels like forever, and Mummy Low is eagerly awaiting his return.

As any new mum would feel, I was apprehensive when Daddy Low had to make this overseas business trip, leaving me and little Julien at home. Like my fren S, it only needs the thought of operating the baby buggy to make us, new mums, break into a cold sweat... Not to talk about handling everything about the baby and the house for a stretch of days.

But more than anything, I miss Daddy Low.

I miss having someone to talk to...
To watch television with...
To read newspapers with...
To do grocery shopping with...
To cook for...
To cuddle up to in bed to...
To make me laugh...
To laugh with...
To take photographs with...
To share tea/coffee with...
To drink wine with...
To check out restaurants with...
To eat chocolates with...
To read a book with ...
To wake up for night feeds and diaper change with...
To potter around the house with..
Or to just sit around together, doing nothing...

I miss you, Daddy Low. Come back soon!

Xxx
Wifey Low

The Foodie is back!

When I was in the throes of first trimester nausea, Henry had lamented that he has lost his foodie partner. Our diet then had shrunk dramatically.  This was the list of banned food, banned by me, 'cos they had suddenly become repulsive:

• garlic
• onion
• peppers
• beef, esp. steaks
• fish
• seafood
• vegetables
• miso
• alcohol

And all I really wanted was carbohydrates - rice, noodles, fried bee hoon, pasta, potatoes. That's all I wanted.

Even in my last trimester, I still could not stomach these foods, especially garlic and onions. I was no longer puking when I had them, but after eating them, I always had a lingering bad aftertaste in the mouth. In fact, after a while, this horrible aftertaste was always there after every meal, no matter what I eat. Henry struggled to understand and asked me many times to describe this horrible aftertaste, and I struggled to answer him... It was just hard to pin it down exactly. In the end, I gave up and just sort of accepted with a sinking heart that my tastebuds have died, that it no longer mattered what food I eat, because good or bad quality, they all end up in that horrible aftertaste anyway.

For a foodie who would seek out acclaimed restaurants and enjoy trying different cuisines, this is a miserable state indeed. And one of life's joys for me includes taking beautiful photographs of the food we try in different places, especially when we travel and it becomes part of the foreign experience.

Then, one day, I was struck with fear, when this thought came to my mind and would not go away - Will my tastebuds recover? Or, horror of horrors, what if they have died permanently? No more trying different tastes, seeing the world through different cuisines, no more food photographs?! It was depressing.

So, it goes without saying that I am absolutely delighted at the complete recovery of my tastebuds. I did not realize it consciously at first; it sort of creeps up on you and gets back into your life unnoticed. And then, you realize it finally when you are heartily enjoying garlicky stuff and drinking glass after glass of wine. I remember in my 3rd week of confinement, I was still wrinkling up my nose at Henry's delicious chicken rice (because of the garlic inside) and sipping tentatively at my glass of Sauvignon Blanc...

But by my 4th week, I started to be more adventurous and tried a glass of Pinot Grigio and to my utter surprise, it was lovely. In fact, to be sure, I had another glass and it was still beautiful. I nearly cried in relief. That night, I had whites followed by a red. I can't remember now, but I think it was a Merlot :) and soon, I was onto Prosecco and there is a bottle of champagne in the fridge right now. And Henry got me my longed-for bottle of Bailey's. Have tried the beers too and so loved the smoothness of my first Stella Artois after so long. Now, am sorely missing Oktoberfest...

And this is only about the alcohol!

For food, have been on prawns, king crab, fish, squid, oysters, vongole, mussels... And garlic, onions, leeks, peppers... they are all great now. Suddenly, there are possibilities in food again and they have such flavor too! I feel like I have been brought back to life.

We have since been to a Turkish restaurant and a Thai restaurant. Yes! The foodie is back! And foodie heaven tastes as good as ever, if not better. It's easy to take our tastebuds for granted, but after this experience, I am just so appreciative and thankful for mine. Now, we just have to work out some time to download those photos and start posting again. I say, let's start living again, Baby! :)

A New Kind of Social Life - New-Parent Gatherings

They say time flies, when it comes to babies. And yet you don't realize how quickly until one day the change stares at you in the face. It seems only not long ago when Henry and I attended the antenatsl class and made friends with other expectant couples. And before you know it, we have all popped and were meeting up at the pre-arranged reunion.

That evening, there were 5 couples and 5 babies - 2 boys and 3 girls. And it was funny when I recalled how one of us had commented that we would all be lugging big baby bags plus baby in a buggy when we next meet... And suddenly, time seems to have gone fast forward and we are now in that actual reality - baby, big baby bag and baby buggy! It was the first time I had walked into a house and seen baby here, there, everywhere, either in a buggy, a car seat or a bouncy chair. And they were all asleep! Was a sweet picture.

When it's a gathering of new mothers, you know that no one would be foolish enough to suggest or agree to a potluck. I had suggested a dinner of ordered-in pizzas and everyone thought it was a brilliant idea. As Em, the host, put it, getting some semblance of a meal 3x a day and putting in the laundry in the washing machine are just about all she can manage these days. And I think to myself how right she is. In fact, if I have any more free time, I will be jumping into the shower straightaway!

I guess, for me, what was interesting was to see how the evening progressed. Just before the pizzas arrived, the babies seemed to start waking up for their feed. Julien started crying for his feed first and being shy to breastfeed in front of everyone, we prepared a bottle of formula to give to him. Next, B's baby went off, soon followed by Em's, then Nick's, and before long, Steph's. So, suddenly, you see the women engaged with their babies. Some would seek out the privacy of a room, while others were quite comfortable to feed in the sitting room. And the husbands all suddenly disappeared into the kitchen when the pizza-man arrived.

The conversation among the women turned into breastfeeding positions, tips, frequency of feeds, sore boobs, infections etc... And walking into the guys' company, you would still know this was a family gathering, because the men were sharing their wives' birthing stories. We had 2 c-sections among us and the rest were natural births. It was funny when the men came to check if their wives needed help to get a pizza, and hear them say that they were swapping blow-by-blow accounts of our labour experiences. You begin to realize childbirth is as much as a big deal (or perhaps, ordeal :) for the fathers as well as the mothers and babies.

Then, it was the wives' turn to eat and we went into the kitchen, while the men went into the sitting room and took over the caring of the babies. And the scene is now changed to one of fathers burping their babies or changing nappies. In the kitchen, one of us, who had trouble breastfeeding had retained her baby to ask for help, so one of the girls was trying to show her how to position the baby to get her properly latched. I think, before becoming a mother, I would have found this scene of popping boobs and people helping to position the baby to your boob a bit of a shock, but I think given the new-mum experience we share, this became so natural that nobody found it out of place or is uncomfortable. In fact, it is great that we have one another to turn to, that we have become a sort of support network for one another, so to speak. Even when we are not meeting face-to-face, we are always exchanging emails about recommended measures for wind or colic, where to go for yoga/pilates cum baby massage classes etc.

By the end of the evening, the party started to break for some of us because of a new consideration - babies' sleep time (which certainly is a clear sign of how our priorities in life have changed.) We start to talk about arranging another gathering. It's great to have new-parent frens to share the journey of parenthood with, and even better to know that our babies can have play dates together in the near future. My mum, for one, would be so thrilled to know that Julien has already made so many little frens! :)

The Modern Twist to Tasting Clubs

The first time I heard about a chocolate tasting club by post, I thought it was a hoax. This is even one up compared to online reading clubs! So, you join the tasting club and they send you a brand new box of chocolates every month. A brand new collection of concoctions dreamt up by the Club's chocolatiers. How cool is that?! And when my frens Claire and Martin offered me some from their box one day, I have to say I am impressed. Very impressed, in fact. Very exquisite chocolates; elegant finish and sophisticated taste.

So, I decided to give an introductory subscription to Daddy Low for his birthday. A box of amazing chocolates delivered right to your doorstep by post. In my head, I thought it incredibly cute to see the box of chocolates come through the letter hole; imagine the letters from Hogswarts to Harry Potter coming through the slot, that's how our chocolates are coming! When I ordered it, I was truly excited, except that they could not confirm when it would come, just that it would be within ten days... So I waited... And waited, and well, it finally came today, just 5 days late. Ah well!

When Daddy Low saw them, I think he was more intrigued by the whole idea of the tasting club than the chocolates. Not that he doesn't like the idea of chocolates - he absolutely loves chocolates - but the thought of fancy chocolates coming every month through the post makes the mind boggle, I think.

I think Hotel Chocolat has got their marketing worked out flawlessly. You can have the monthly box or choose whenever you want your next box. But what really caught my interest was the element of active participation and interaction - with each box, there is a menu and a scorecard. The menu informs the taster of the contents of each chocolate and gives tips on how to get the best out of the tasting of each chocolate, while the scorecard allows you to grade each flavor and give your feedback to shape future concoctions. I thought it was marvelous fun and a really fancy move to get customer feedback to make sure one's products answer customers' desires. The chocolatiers are not just British, but also partners from chocolateries from Europe, which adds a nice variation to the chocolates, so very crucial to the concept of a tasting club!

The tasting box holds 30 handmade chocolates of 15 tastes (2 of each flavor, so it's perfect for a couple... now, you know my vested interest... :). Reading the menu makes one think that one has stumbled onto a sort of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory; check these out...

The Sugar Cane Praline - "This recipe features pure hazelnut paste, white chocolate and cane sugar distilledN from pure Mauritian sugar cane juice. Encased in a milk chocolate cup and finished with a sprinkling of cane sugar..."

The Blueberry Truffle - "...a creamy white shell contrasted with a super soft ganache that's bursting with blueberry flavors. Finished with blueberry flakes for added fruitiness."

The Caramel Cheesecake - "2 gorgeous layers in the milk chocolate shell - the first is brimming with the distinctive sour cream flavors of cheesecake, while the second is an oozingly soft caramel. Both mingling together for a mellow take on a classic cheesecake. Finished with chocolate sprinkles."

Yums...

I could go on forever, but then, I would sound like I am selling Hotel Chocolat, which I am not, having no shares or any kind of stakes whatsoever in the company. But I have to say I am bowled over by this whole tasting club thingy Hotel Chocolat came up with. Now, it only remains for us to take the first bite and start our chocolatey odyssey and see whether it is truly worth all that it promises to be. In the meantime, here's some food for thought - there is a wine tasting club by Sunday Times through the post too. Now, wouldn't that go nicely paired with the chocolates? Hmmm... A new bottle every Sunday delivered to the door... Wicked! :)

What's in a Name?

Today, Julien is one month old. And on this momentous day, I thought I ought to finish this momentous entry, which I started long ago at the request of Daddy Low, but it got so big for me that I dragged my feet over it...

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      "What's in a name? that which we call a rose

       By any other name would smell as sweet;"

So says Juliet, as she laments the baggage carried by Romeo's family name in Shakespeare's famous romantic tragedy "Romeo and Juliet".

Indeed, what's in a name? For surely, what matters is what something is, not what it is called. But ask any parent-to-be and parent, choosing a name for your baby is a complicated, long-drawn out process, of which the care and thought poured into it is worthy of any military campaign.  And for me, a military campaign it is, because it is like a top secret mission, a secret shared only by Henry, me and Baby.  And it was only with great reluctance near the end of the pregnancy that we felt more ready to share with others.

So important is the choosing of a good name that countless websites and books are dedicated to this endeavour.  Some are lucky to already know what names they want for their baby, whatever gender it turns out to be. I have a friend who wants her son to be called "Oliver", and so does her sister, in which case then, it becomes a race to see who has a boy first.  For those who have no fixed favourites, it is not uncommon that they have elaborate strategies to arrive at the ideal name.  A couple we know have a whole system to this - they would draw up their list of favourites separately and then go through the elimination process together of the absolute no-nos.  Another couple do a variation of this - they would meet weekly with 3 names each and do the elimination; this helps to ensure that they capture names that pop up along the pregnancy, leaving no stone unturned in this important search.

For us, we simply agreed that we can suggest whatever name we like, but we have absolute veto power over any name the other suggests that we personally dislike, so no negotiation at all in these cases.  Luckily for us, we have pretty similar tastes and we came to a conclusion fairly quickly. Baby was either going to be a "Dylan", "Ethan" or "Julien", and we agreed to make our decision when we meet him finally. And we are glad we did, because "Julien" fits him to a T.

The difficulty lies more with the selection of his Chinese name, because there are so many considerations. The older generation is more traditional and have some guidelines, perhaps strange to the younger generations, to follow.

First, my parents state that we cannot use any character that is already in the baby's elders' names - this means those in the names of our parents (Baby's grandparents), us (his parents) or our siblings (Baby's uncles/aunties), but actually also preferably our extended family... Apparently, the rationale is that using the same character would mean that the baby, who is a new young rising star, will eclipse and even weigh down on the fortunes of the elder with the same character in his name. So, yes, really, it means a whole lot of Chinese characters are banned, and to me, it becomes a bit of a slippery slope, I mean where do you stop?  Anyway, we tried our best and I can only conclude that it is a blessing that we do not know all our elders' full names, since we tend to address everyone by their terms of address - "Uncle", "Auntie", "Grand uncle", "Grand auntie" etc.

Second, my in-laws believe in the counting of strokes of the Chinese characters, since certain total numbers are auspicious, while other numbers would not bring Baby good fortune or a good life. Both of us have no idea how auspicious numbers are derived except that there was a Book that our in-laws refer to in order to determine the good/bad number of strokes... (Don't ask me about this Book; I have no idea what it is.)

These were the 2 major issues we had to grapple with in choosing Julien's Chinese name. Happily for us, the name we chose had a generally auspicious number of strokes and second, the Chinese language has a good range of same-sounding Chinese characters to choose from, so that even if the character sounds the same as any elder's, we could simply choose another same-sounding but differently written character.

Anyway, this experience has certainly made me think about culture and heritage. And I think to myself, that when it is our children's turn to be parents, we are not likely to have such guidelines, since we don't really understand or appreciate the customs ourselves. Is it a pity? Perhaps. It would be a break from a longstanding tradition in the Chinese culture, but then again, as culture morphs and changes with the passing of time, who is to say that these practices that we have today are as pure as when our ancestors first started them? Perhaps, what we can take away from this is that customs and practices will only survive if people understand the rationale behind them in order to find appreciation. For surely, a people without any traditional customs and practices would be a people without any soul or identity. On a larger picture, one cannot deny that life is about change and adaptation, even as we try to retain our culture and practices. And it seems inevitable that as the world becomes more globalised with the exchange of ideas, traditions may become more diluted and fused with others.

But I digress, for Julien, Mummy does mean to explain your name here. And as I was saying, no matter how untraditional or unsuperstitious we are about the power wielded by one's name, every parent does want to choose a good name for their child. Daddy and Mummy did a fair bit of research and discussion on your English and Chinese names before settling on "Julien Low Rui Kai", so this is for you, Baby...

Julien

• In English, this name would be spelled with an "a" - "Julian", but because you were conceived in Lausanne, a French-speaking part of Switzerland, we decided to give you the French spelling "Julien".
• In French, this name means "Jove's child".  Jove, also known as "Jupiter", is the king of the gods and the god of the sky and thunder in Roman mythology.  He is the equivalent of Zeus in the Greek pantheon. He was the patron deity of ancient Rome, ruling over laws and social order.
• "Julien" also means one who is youthful. Looking at you, we think you will be a happy baby, and always youthful at heart, ready for an adventure, just like Daddy and Mummy.
• We also like the fact that "Julien" is a variant of the name "Julius", so in that sense, you share the name of one of history's famous men - Gaius Julius Caesar (13 July 100BC - 15 Mar 44BC). Roman general and statesman, Caesar played a critical role in transforming the Roman Republic into the Roman Empire, and even people who are not familiar with history know this name.  So, regardless of how different people feel about him, there is no doubt he was a man of greatness.

Rui Kai 睿凯

Chinese is not your parents' strongest language. We could have gone to a Chinese fortune teller to ask for advice on names, but well, we decided that we wanted to choose your name ourselves.

"Rui Kai" is a present from both of us, because we chose a character each - Daddy chose "Rui" and Mummy chose "Kai", because we like the sounds of each characters and the sound of it when combined.  Then, we checked the meanings of the various characters of these sounds and were very pleased to find these 2 specific written characters that not only met our criteria but also held such great meanings.


Rui 睿

This character means "wise and far-sighted" and we hope you will be like your name in terms of intelligence and judgement.

Kai 凯

We like "Kai", because as a name, it is also easy to use and remember, even for other cultures, so you have the benefit of another easy-to-remember name, besides the very charming "Julien". 

This character means "victorious, triumphant" and we wish for you that you will be successful in every endeavour and venture in your life.

 

Interestingly, we also found a link with kingliness in the two characters. 

• This "rui" is a term of address for the emperor in ancient times, so for example, "rui duan" would refer to the emperor's decision, while "rui de" would refer to the emperor's kindness.  This "rui" is also a reference to Confucius, the much admired Chinese thinker and philosopher.
• The "kai" we chose is apparently the same character used in the Chinese version of Julius Caesar's name "kai sa da di" (凯撒大帝) , which is an amazing link to Julien's name with Julius Caesar's!

Yes, it is a good, promising name, so, we, as parents, have done our best in this quest to give you as good a headstart as possible. Now, it is up to you to live up to this name and do it justice.

 

Julien at one month old

Polishing My Game

Home Alone Day 2. Another crazy day. Julien, as I've mentioned before, is a terribly noisy baby, especially when he is on the verge of falling asleep or when waking up. He goes on and on, making gravelly noises, as though he has lots of opinions. It used to amuse Henry, who was prompted to say that Julien might be a lawyer some day. But these days, it just elicits angry commands of "Keep Quiet! Keep Quiet!" from a very upset and sleep deprived Daddy Low... Not that Julien understands anyway...

So, today, we were booted out of the bedroom because of Julien's spectacular oratorical skills. I carried Julien to the next room and fed him and changed his nappy, by the end of which, I was totally awake. And I started to realize that's how this mummy is gonna learn to wake up early. So, I decided to get on with the chores. More laundry to be done, while washed ones go on the line, and dried ones go on the ironing board. And before you know it, it was time for lunch. And time for another feed. And another diaper change.

I tried to take my longer shower today before Daddy Low left for work, but somehow did not make it. So after one of Julien's feeds, when he tends to feel drowsy, I took a chance and played the nursery rhymes on the baby monitor before running into the shower. Above the repetitive notes of the rhymes and the din of the water, I heard Julien slowly work himself into a crying fit. (He is actually quite a gentleman of a baby really - he tends to make little warning noises first before bawling outright.) In the past, I would have rushed to his side and picked him up within 2 minutes, but because of the other noises that muted his crying, because I was determined to wash my hair, because I had soapy shampoo all over my head, I stayed away and went on with my shower. Of course, it was not easy; with each louder and longer cry, I felt increasingly like a bad mother. But I was at least assured that there was no loose cloth or toys around him that could cause him to smother and he was secured in his crib without any chance of tumbling down. So, I went on with my shower, albeit with a bit of a guilty conscience. When I checked on Julien after the shower, I was amazed and pleasantly surprised that he has self-soothed himself to sleep! It was great! And the lesson learnt today? - a little crying does no harm. In fact, it probably does a world of good - Baby will have to learn that he can't summon me at will with a show of tantrum!

Next, I put up the cleaned sheets in the guest bedroom and changed our own bedsheets. I personally hate this chore, because of the struggle I always have with the duvet cover in trying to get it into place. And deep down, I knew that, during that window of opportunity, when Julien was sound asleep, I should be cooking dinner. But I was determined to get our bedsheets changed today, since I have been talking about it for days now. These sheets are actually quite new; they have not been long on our bed, but Julien has already made it his own with some burped milk and pee... So a change is in order! And into the washing machine the dirty sheets went and a very proud mummy I was when I looked at the new bedsheets in place on our bed.

I skipped down to the kitchen and proceeded to prepare the food as quickly as I could. I got as far as marinating the meat and cutting the vegetables before Julien was up and needed to be fed again. So, I staved off hunger with a glass of milk while feeding him. And went back to cooking while watching snatches of telly. When dinner was done and eaten, I sat there, concussed, just letting programme after programme wash over me, while waiting for the next feed. This time was a supplement formula feed and I am pleased to say that I was better prepared, having already boiled water and stored it in a thermos flask. The feeding went alright and I got to watch my telly and de-stress for the day.

Tomorrow, I have my eye on getting the toilets washed and cooking more food to store in the freezer. And maybe, I may still get some extra time to blog properly and even post some photos! Hopefully, I get better with my strategies and tomorrow brings more new lessons of managing a routine with baby in tow. To tomorrow's challenge, cheers! :)

Finding My Own Two Mummy Feet

It didn't go too badly today - my first day of being home alone with Julien.  I thought it would be hard with Mum gone, but it was not catastrophic, to say the least. 

Granted, there were no piping hot cooked meals waiting for us on the table, but we did manage well enough even on the food front. Lunch was a simple affair of beef bolognaise spaghetti, and dinner was a frozen dinner cooked by Mum to tide me over the transition.

And so much for telling myself to go easy on the chores. I woke up earlier than usual to try to get a headstart - bringing the garbage out, drying last night's round of Julien's washed laundry, while starting a new cycle. In fact, I did a few cycles in between my simple breakfast and our trip to the chiropractor to sort out some lingering aches from the pregnancy. Then, a quick lunch while relaxing with a bit of telly before bathing and feeding Julien.

Next, I started to sort out the kitchen. And then Mum called to tell me they had a great day at the seaside and she tried 2 oysters and I am really glad, because I wanted them to enjoy a bit of England before going home.  But actually, I think she was worried about how I was coping and had really called to check on me and asked how Julien is.  

After Julien's afternoon feed and diaper change, he took his afternoon nap and I decided to heed everyone's advice and slept too. It was lovely. He is still on 2 hourly feeds, so I did manage to get some decent rest, but more importantly, once you are on your own,  you realise there is no one else to rely on and you really start to strategise to become more efficient and effective. And that gave me a sense of ownership, of control and definitely made me more confident.  

Before, Mum would help to bathe him and make his milk on the feeds that we supplement with formula (I just can't keep up with the little tiger's appetite anymore - he wants 4oz every 2 hours!) and I could enjoy a nice leisurely shower.  Now, having to do everything for Julien myself, showering became a bit of a stressful activity, which I tried to do as quickly as possible, especially when you can hear him starting to build up a wail through the baby monitor. 

But the upside is, personally doing everything for him now gives me the time and opportunity to bond with Julien. Mum is here for a limited period, so even if sometimes, I much prefer to bathe Julien myself, I let her, because I know she wants to spend time with Julien.  But what I didn't realise was that I end up being a bit detached from my own baby; he was just an entity that I needed to feed and change diapers now and then. Hence, it came as a very pleasant surprise to me today, when I felt myself all melting in love and affection as I spent time with Julien.

I enjoyed bathing him. Admittedly, I was a bit apprehensive as I bathed him, always afraid that I was too slow and he would catch a chill. But we did it, even if not with Mum's speed or ease :)  And I enjoyed the nap with him too; watching him sleep and listening to his breathing was a strangely magical experience. But waking up just slightly ahead of him was not good enough. I had heated up my dinner, having breastfed him.  And so I was rather taken by surprise, when while waiting for the food to heat up, he started crying and wanted to feed again. So, there I went, rushing to make him his milk and obviously not making it in time.  Listening to your own baby crying has to be the worst possible experience in the world - it was truly trying and heartwrenching.  And in the end, I ate my dinner one hour later, my once-hot-but-now-cold dinner...

After dinner, when Julien was all settled, I went back to sorting out the kitchen. They say the kitchen is the one place where a woman can feel territorial. I was just too happy to have my meals taken care of, so I was not about to poke my head in the kitchen with my opinions to Mum. Moreover, I was too tired and weak to be territorial during my confinement rest. But once Mistress of the house again - and I am sure other women would agree with me - you want your kitchen back the way it was. I think I did a decent job for an evening - things were back in their old places again and going through the larder and fridge certainly helped me to know what food we have and whether we need to go grocery shopping.

After my night's quota of telly, we went upstairs and I sorted out the dry laundry. Then, another feed and nappy change, before finally having time to blog. There's still ironing not done and tomorrow, I hope to wash the toilets and change the bedsheets. But for today, I say it's not a bad job done and am proud of myself :)  And before the week is out, I am confident that the house will be in order again and I would have established a daily schedule fixed around Julien as well as a sleeping routine with him. And we'll be all sorted before we start on Round 2 when the in-laws arrive next week...

And as I watch Julien sleeping now beside me, I have a great sense of contentment. I had told my parents before leaving Singapore that Julien will be a wonderful present for me. And he is. With Mum and Dad gone, I had worried about the house feeling large and empty. But today's experience has proven me wrong. Because, no matter how trying it may be even when he is in the height of his crying, Julien is great company that I would not want to miss. Muacks to my little baby! :)

The Longest Weekend

It has been a bittersweet kind of weekend; bittersweet because I was looking forward to it as well as dreading it. The coming Thursday will mark Julien's one month birthday, so we've decided to hold the man yue (full month) celebration the weekend preceding it. And we decided to do so, because it is also a sort of farewell party for my parents, who have been with us for about six weeks; thus, my reason for dreading the weekend.

The Chinese tradition of man yue is a tricky one to explain to the non-Chinese mind. Shin asked us during the party and the best I could say was that it is a kind of milestone. Some have likened it to a baby shower, but I would say this is hardly so. The baby shower celebrates the pending birth of a baby and in the past, was held only for the birth of the firstborn and attended only by women for the sharing of wisdom and tips about motherhood to the mother-to-be. The word "shower" is referring to literally how the mother-to-be would be showered by gifts. For the Chinese, it would be taboo to celebrate the birth before the baby is delivered safely and the traditional gift would be a red packet (ang pow) containing money or gold jewellery (usually gold chains with pendants of the baby's Zodiac sign or anklets).

The Chinese term "man yue", translated literally would mean full month or the completion of one month. One month of what? If you remember my earlier post about confinement, that is what we are referring to.

The one month after birth is considered a crucial time for both mother and child. As I mentioned in my earlier post, the mother's body is believed to be weakened by the traumatic experience of childbirth and blood loss, so she needs to regain her strength and take care to protect herself from the elements, as she is more susceptible to various ailments. In the same vein, the baby is especially vulnerable in this one month, so he, together with the mother, should stay at home during this time. He gets his nutrition from the mother, so the latter has to eat well, following the confinement food menu.

And when the one month is completed, there is a big celebration, with much food including special man yue food to mark the happy occasion as well as to formally introduce the baby to family and friends. The two key food items would be red eggs and a red pastry called ang ku kueh, which is a kind of pastry filled with peanut paste. Red is the traditional colour of choice, as this is an auspicious colour to the Chinese. At the end of the party, the red eggs are distributed to the guests to bring home. At the man yue party, the baby's head is usually shaved, since it is believed that he will then have a crowning head of hair after the newborn hair is removed. In the past, parents would make Chinese paintbrushes out of the baby hair and present it to Baby as a present of his birth when he is older. Recently, there is a revival of this tradition, but it has become ridiculously expensive, having become a new kind of fancy thing to do among the younger, wealthier parents.

I think the confinement and man yue traditions reflect the importance of the family unit in the Chinese culture. The women relations, usually the mother or mother-in-law, will come to care for the new mother and take over all the chores. In this one month, this is what my parents did. It is not an exaggeration to say that I owe my regained strength and health and baby's growth to my parents. Thus, I was especially happy that we could do man yue with my parents before they leave.

In Singapore, we would have a big buffet plus the requisite red eggs and ang ku kueh plus baby favors for the guests. All our relatives, colleagues and friends would have been invited. But here in UK, in the inland part of Milton Keynes, it was not as easy to find caterers of Chinese food who understand our traditions, so we decided to cook everything ourselves. We kept to a small guestlist of Singaporean friends, but I was still concerned that we could not make enough food. Henry, being a man, was hardly worried. Food can either be bought or barbecued... But for us, the women of the house, it was a huge worry. We could not compromise by having a mix of Chinese and Western food for such a traditional event. In the end, I told our guests that light snacks will be served (even though we were really making proper meal food like noodles and curry) and they were recommended to eat lunch before coming, which upset my mum a bit, since in Singapore, everyone would just be fed a proper meal. It was great that my younger sister Yen was also here and helped with the food and we managed to cook up quite a spread.

We had a great time and all the guests were amazed by the food. And despite having been told to come having lunched, they did, more or less, wiped out everything. Mum was pleased that we did not leave anyone hungry and better still, got the amount right. Our guests were happy, because we had Singaporean food. I was happy because we got to meet up with good friends. And I sure hope Henry and Yen were happy, because we celebrated their birthdays (they are Sept babies) as well with a surprise birthday cake and not to mention that Henry got a special sashimi birthday present. The parents were happy, since all the children made the house come alive - we, more or less, form a playgroup, every time we meet. And I know, Mum and Dad were extremely pleased, when we later presented them with framed photographs of them and Julien and us as a family.

On Sunday, we had a beautiful Sunday roast and a nice flow of wine going (actually since Saturday's man yue party). I felt contented, but at the same time, a melancholy set over me. Our last full day together with my parents. I had a sense of wanting to shout "Don't go!" and constantly vacillated between letting Henry send them to London without me and Baby or us driving down together. In the end, I decided we would all go and send them down to London, only 'cos I hate partings and I know if I have to see them leave, see their parting backs to me as they go, I would surely weep. I am that kind of soppy, when it comes to partings. And without a doubt, that comes from Mum - saying farewell at the airport is always so difficult for both of us every time I leave with Henry for an overseas stay - she always starts on the waterworks first. Henry said to me today that I have to stop whining, because now, I have Julien, I am a mother. And I know he is right, but I feel a bit like Peter Pan, a kid stuck in an adult's body (Ok, Peter Pan does not have an adult face or body)...

So, in a few hours' time, we will drive to London together. And I can then, at least, trick myself into thinking that we are just making a day-trip out. And then, we drive back, get back to the business of daily living. Get the hang of being wife, mother and mistress of the house again, doing laundry, cooking, cleaning house while handling my two tigers' needs. And I will be fine again, and living life purposefully. Oh there, here we go again, Purposeful Life calling me - Yes, Julien, Mummy knows it's time to feed! :)

Chill, Mummy, Chill!

I met B at an antenatal class and found out we were from the same region. Well, sort of - she's from Down Under. Then, we found out that we were staying in the same street. Next, we are from the same profession. And then, of course, our parents are coming to help out with post-natal care. But the strangest thing yet - our parents arrive in UK and depart on the same days.

So, unlike the other girls, we had the luxury of familial company and help. And we do feel rather pampered really.

But now, D date looms in front of us and both of us are a bit reluctant to let our parents go. Not to mention a bit worried... I don't know about B, but I am certainly wondering how I will cope when the parents are gone.

In my mind, I play with permutations of a schedule for the day and whatever combination I come up with, I am faced with the fact that there will either be less sleep or there will be more mess. And honestly, I have only been able to blog, because I did not have to bother with anything else except for taking care of Baby and myself. And even then, Mum always volunteers to bathe Baby, partly to let me rest, but also, I suspect, 'cos she does want to spend time with Baby. (And I don't reject her help; after all, this help doesn't last long!) So, like it or not, my ME time is probably going to dwindle gradually...

As I muse over whether I might fall into post-natal depression after they leave (yes, it's a strange thing to contemplate), I am blessed with two unexpected encounters. If I am a tad more religious, I would have said these are signs.

I had the good fortune of talking to two experienced mothers who have also just given birth recently. Chantal has two girls, while Mel is mother to three boys. And like me, they are SAHMs in a foreign land with no family support nearby.

Listening to them, I felt like I was acting too precious and making a mountain out of a molehill. Both their husbands are away frequently on business trips, but they both take it in their stride. They tell me not to worry, that necessity makes us experts at all things eventually. That I will find my routine, my daily patterns. The most common refrain I have heard - sleep when your baby is asleep, and dun mind so much about the accumulating mess. The important thing is to take care of myself, then I would be able to take care of Baby.

And I think to myself - this is gonna be hard, but ok, I can live with some mess. But what about food? And a lady from a coffee group had a wonderful expression for it, which I love - that when you are nursing and ravenous and having to cook, it is called "starvation prevention cooking". So, this one causes a bit of a worry, but I'll just start by stocking up on bananas, cereals and other healthy snacks and I am so going to put that slow cooker to good use.

And luckily for me, Henry knows how to iron his clothes.. And mine too :) Plus he can cook; in fact, probably cook better... As well as bathe Baby, change diapers, even make milk (if we need to supplement). So, looks like we are quite sorted after all! :)

But even as I go through my battle plan, what stood out for me most was my 2x and 3x mother-frens' attitude. They just chill. Both of them had said the same thing, even if in different words - "I don't know how I did it, but I just do it."

And it's as simple as that. Sometimes, over-thinking and over-analyzing cloud the matter at hand and become the issue instead. I am glad I ran into these two frens and despite my misgivings, I guess I am half excited underneath, thinking about this adventure that Julien and I will have once we are alone. After all, frens have also told me that motherhood has given them a greater confidence than they ever had. And why should it be any different for me? :)

So, Julien, if you have strange memories of sleeping in a dirty house when you are older, this entry will explain. But you know what, we will both be better for it; you can at least say you have a "chill" mother :)

Have a Very Good Night!

I woke up one morning, finding neither husband nor baby in bed. Groggy and panic-stricken (or as panic-stricken as grogginess allows), I stumbled downstairs and found Daddy Low scrunched up on the sofa, while Baby Low lay asleep in his buggy. I woke Daddy Low up and he explained that he had decided to bring Julien downstairs, because Baby was simply too noisy after the last feed at 4am.

And this has been how our "nightlife" has been like for the past few nights - me handling the early morning feeds and Daddy taking over at 3 or 4am. And Baby having his own little party in his Moses basket, with the decibels increasing until Daddy gets up and rocks him or whisks him from the room, because by then Mummy is simply too tired and blissfully switches off and falls truly asleep, because it is now Daddy's shift.

Some nights, Daddy is just too shattered and Mummy takes on the whole night, because, after all, Daddy has to work and needs his rest. Generally, I try to soothe Baby by all means without having to leave the warmth of the bed. Until one night when a desperately tired Daddy simply could not take it anymore and glared at us from under the covers. I slunk out of the room with Julien after that. The next day, Daddy asked, "Perhaps, I should sleep in the study?"

It was a question I have been dreading. And also one my other new-mum girlfrens are discussing.

No one is happy about this, but everyone has different reactions to the situation. N's husband has been sleeping in the living room sofa for a few nights now. And N sees it as a matter of practical problem-solving. The rest of us have considered it and some have even discussed it with their partners, but none of us have done it, because we really don't want to.

Besides wanting to have our partners with us, I think we all understand that once the men are out of the room, then all the work ends up with yours truly. And it's not the most appetizing thought, when you have been at it the whole day. Of course, the men do prefer to sleep in the bedroom too. Not only is the mummy and baby there, so is the comfortable bed!

But what are we to do with the noisy babies? For it seems everyone is afflicted by the Noisy Baby Syndrome. By this stage of 2-3 weeks, our babies seem to be all acting up, all wanting to be soothed, rocked or carried before they would go back to sleep. Julien, especially, can often go on forever. Plus jerky hand and leg movements to boot!

The solution is, of course, staring at us in the face - Baby can go to his own room next door. His cot bed is, after all, ready. And so is the baby monitor.

Many of us are not keen to put our little ones in the next room though. For one, the Health Service has ingrained it well in us that newborns should be in the same room with us to avoid Sudden Infant Cot Death. Being a sound sleeper, I personally prefer Julien in the same room, because I usually only wake when he cries loudly, even when his Moses basket is next to me.

But more than anything, I think I really, actually cannot bear to have my baby far away from me, unsupervised. I think, despite the baby monitor (and we do have a very good one), some part in me always worry that something may happen to Baby and the monitor will not pick up the noise or I will simply not hear the monitor, given the other more direct noises in the room I am in. I guess it's similar to the fears that first-time mothers have, when they leave their babies with someone else for the first time, while they go out for a movie or some couple time.

So, we are back to the same struggle every night. And I can only hope that Julien will learn some bedside manners and be more of a gentleman when asleep. Otherwise, I may just have to buy a pair of ear plugs for Daddy!

Grow like a Champion, Grow!

A girlfriend told me she stopped breastfeeding her second child after one month because her first child would not stop crying whenever he saw her feeding his younger brother. Apparently, Nr.1 thought Nr.2 was eating Mummy up!

I thought that was the funniest thing I've heard about breastfeeding... until when I started to feel pretty much like I'm being eaten up myself these days.

Since Julien started downing 4oz of milk like nobody's business, I have given up noting the times of his feeds or how much he feeds. It seems pretty pointless anyway, since I've decided to feed on demand now (otherwise, nobody gets any sleep) and there's no reliable way to tell how much he feeds, given that we are breastfeeding. All I know is that he seems to feed quite consistently every 2 hours and sometimes, shockingly, even in one-hour intervals.

And soon after he feeds, I am ravenous.

Luckily, with Mum and Dad here, all I am expected to do is eat, feed, bathe and sleep. And that is what I have been doing. And I reckon I am eating even more than during pregnancy. It is normal for me to eat bread, cereal, milk, eggs plus bananas for breakfast. And for lunch or dinner, I easily gobble up a serving of noodle soup, a bowl (and sometimes 2) of rice plus meat and vegetables. And of course, fruits after that...

Little wonder that when I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a very mumsy figure. Very depressing when you are trying on pre-pregnancy clothes. And there is only one question in my mind: Will I ever be able to fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes and shoes? Or am I now condemned to at least half a year of nursing clothes? Horror of horrors! (though, luckily, there are, at least, nice designs out there these days...)

And all the eating on both of our parts is tiring me out. Because as soon as I put it into my system, Julien draws it out of me. At one point, I felt like I was in an endless eat-feed cycle, since he can feed for as short as half an hour to as long as an hour plus. Then, he fusses and either it is time to change nappy or you have to soothe him before he would sleep again... which doesn't leave much time before the next round starts...

It becomes rather hard to follow a movie from start to finish, or the day's newspapers for that matter. And some days, I just fall into despair, wondering what is happening to my life now, where this is going to lead... Will I ever have time to enjoy some sane, adult pleasures anymore without nervously checking for signs of hunger whenever he starts to wake and cry in his crib?

Happily for me, I found the silver lining in my grey cloud today. As I was looking at Julien just now, I realize that he is really filling out his bouncy chair. And that he is looking rather much bigger. And I thought to myself, "Well, all this feeding should be going somewhere..." So, we decided to measure him.

And what a shock we had. In three weeks, Julien has grown from 50cm to 58cm!

Now, that's impressive. Even I have to admit that. And when the midwife came to weigh him, we have confirmation - he now weighs 3.87kg, a very respectable gain of 0.53kg since birth. 

Well, if this maniacal feeding is going to bring on such growth spurts, I am certainly going to do my part and help it along. Hopefully, Julien will achieve heights that Daddy and Mummy Low never did, both physically and metaphorically.

You go, boy!  :)

Our Milky Oktoberfest

Some time last week, I pumped out 4oz of milk and was feeling really smug about my achievement... Until Julien finished that full 4oz in one go.  Well, actually, that was his achievement and it shouldn't have eclipsed mine; they are after all 2 exclusive events. But I guess I was just a bit put out that my store of 4oz should have disappeared so fast.

In any case, while he was gulping down his milk, Daddy Low said, "If you can drink beer like this, you're ready for some good German beer!" And that reminded me of Oktoberfest.

This month last year, we were in Munich with some of our IMD friends to take part in Oktoberfest festivities.  Our German classmate, Albert and his wife, Marianne, had organised our great beer adventure plus a detour to the beautiful Neuschwanstein castle that inspired the Disney fairytale castle. While the guys chalked up about 3-4 litres of beer each, I had only managed 1, well close to 1 litre anyway. Marianne and I had then made the pact that the following year, we will be back to better our record.

As I think back now, I have to smile at myself. How things can change in a year! Now, both Marianne and I have a newborn baby each and going to a smoky, beer-flowing Oktoberfest venue to chug down delicious German beer and stuff oneself with the very irresistable Schweinhaxe amidst loud German beer songs and happy dancing on tables just doesn't seem like a new-mummy-new-baby kind of activity. When we shared the happy news with each other last year, Marianne and I did contemplate that perhaps the men can go and she and I will enjoy each other's and our little ones' company in the comfort of home... But that doesn't exactly sound like much of an Oktoberfest, does it? This year, Oktoberfest officially kicks off on this Saturday, 18 Sept, but I guess we'll be missing it...

These days, to meet the demands of feeding a rapidly growing Julien with a voracious appetite, my drink of choice is semi-skimmed milk. And I haven't checked, but I suppose I can drink a litre a day. So Marianne, meine Freundin, I'll drink a toast to you and so will Julien if he can hold a mug. If we have a Dirndl and a Lederhosen, we will wear them to mark the occasion... but well, let's try to do the real thing next year. And if not, next year, then next next. The Low family would love to chug some German beer with the Schultz family and enjoy a very traditional Oktoberfest some day. I am definitely looking forward to enjoying beer with my boy some time in future. For now, to the Schultzes - Prost!

Marianne and I one year ago...

    

Ok, I only managed one ...

Here's a mumsy toast to you!

The Wonder of Oysters and New Life

It is an oddity to expect good, fresh seafood in inland England, so we thought it a joke when we heard about the Oyster Festival happening this weekend in the nearby village of Woburn. I checked the website and deciding that it was authentic enough, we got ready and drove our way there. By now, Mum is resigned that she cannot keep me locked up at home, especially in the weekends and there is no way we (except Mum) would have missed an oyster festival!

I'm a great lover of shellfish. Clams, winkles, whelks, cockles, mussels, oysters, abalone... You name it, I love it. The only one that I've not fallen for is the geoduck, which is a vulgar elephant-trunk-like thing sticking out of a giant clam shell; plus it's tough as tree bark (which makes it a wonder why it is so darn expensive...) But everything else I love.

Especially oysters.

I used to feel ambivalent about them. A bit disgusted even. How could anyone put this formless, gooey raw thing down his throat? But then, it being a high-class gourmet food, I decided I have to take the plunge, so that I can at least say I've tried them before.

Just listen to this introduction from the Shellfish Association of Great Britain:
"Eating raw oysters is a uniquely invigorating experience. No other food conjures up a taste sensation as strongly as an pyster the essence of the sea in edible form.  However, there are large differences among oysters with regard to taste, body and nose; the environmental conditions have a significant impact on flavours.  Tastes can range from some salty to floral, some have fruity notes, mineral flavour or even hints of spice.  Even oysters from the same estuary can vary in flavour depending upon exactly where they are grown." 

Sounds like wine and terroir to me!

So, I tried.  And I was surprised. They didn't taste half-bad. Admittedly, I wasn't bowled over by them, but I did find them an interesting taste, a nice, positive "interesting" (given that "interesting" can be a euphemism). And have subsequently gone on to "try" them again and again... Before finally falling hopelessly under their spell.

So, there we were, on a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon, wandering the festival site in Woburn. It was a three-day affair, from Friday till Sunday, with live bands, food stalls, games stalls and antique stalls. Naturally, we made a beeline for the seafood when we arrived...

And were surprised that there was only one oyster stall! ONE?!

Well, beggars can't be choosers, so we queued up duely, crossed our fingers and bought a dozen plus some white wine.

And we had to eat our words besides the oysters. They were lovely! And this was a unanimous opinion. After the oysters, we moved on to mussels, fish cakes and prawns. Everything was just super. We walked around the festival, checking out the various stalls. I think it was a nice experience for Mum and Dad, who looked on in curiosity at the wares sold, bits and bobs and possibly not all too antique.

And the pictures! They loved taking pictures. Possibly infected by our love for photo-taking and photos. I want to take as many as I can, of my parents, of my baby, of us, so we can keep these happy memories with us.

And the one nice, new thing I noticed was how everyone is so enamored by small babies. As we walked about, we were stopped so many times by people wanting to have a look at Julien, asking how old he is, and just cooing away at Him. When we were in a restaurant for dinner later, it was the same story with the staff there. Everyone was so interested and had such kind comments. One girl even shared with us that she is trying for a baby herself and looked so wistfully at Julien.

And it's not just the adults who are thrilled, the little kids are too. A few times at the clinic, children waiting with their parents for their turn would stop their play and looked at us when we walked in, then would hover around us, saying to themselves or their parents, "It's a baby!" with a sort of awe in their voices. They were just too shy to come over; otherwise, I believe they would. I remember that we had a similar experience even when Baby was not out yet. We were in a sunglass shop, and while a very heavily pregnant me was trying on some pairs, two little girls, perhaps between the ages of 7 to 9, shyly observed me before approaching me to ask me all about Baby: Do I know if it is a boy or a girl? A girl is nicer, you know? Do you have a name for your baby already? ... before proceeding to share with me their recommendations for cool baby boy names.

It is a revelation for me. You know how people say you make frens easily when you go around with a baby (and the same case when you have a dog). You listen, but you don't really know how it will be like or how it feels. And when it happens, you get all warm and fuzzy inside. Because you don't know how or why it works, but you are just so grateful that the world seems to welcome and love your little one just like you do. And you feel the miracle and preciousness of life all over again, when even little children feel the wonder of it.

Julien, I am looking forward to the day when we will enjoy oysters and Prosecco together. But for now, Daddy and Mummy are just enjoying watching you grow everyday and happy to share the joy of your little life with everyone else.

Remembering to Love

A friend posted his proposal video and photos of the proposal trip today.  Happily, his very moved girlfriend had said "Yes".  As I watched the video and the photos, I am touched myself.  He had spent weeks putting the video together and clearly, a lot of effort went into the planning of the proposal and collaboration with the hotel staff in his elaborate plan.  They looked so in love and I would have been surprised if the girl had said "No".  It is always nice to see young love at work; nothing beats the honeymoon glow on those so affected :). To my friend and his wife-to-be, I wish a lifetime of happiness and wedded bliss.

As I reminisced about our own honeymoon days and Henry's proposal, I am reminded of how we all started.  And how we would seek the help of mutual friends to spring surprises on one another, place little presents and cards when least expected, go for nice candlelit dinners, run away for romantic holidays ... How long ago those days seem!  Our married friends then had said the same - to enjoy the "honeymoon" days, 'cos they don't last long, especially after marriage and once the children come along... 

They are both right and wrong.

Undoubtedly, as a couple go further in their married life, the novelty does wear off a bit.  Living together, we go through the phases of learning about each other's habits, trying to change "undesirable" habits (Often, this is a one-sided argument and I have to be fair here, it is usually the woman who believes she can change the man and the world...), before finally growing into a routine with perhaps an air of resignation (that she cannot change the man or the world...).  So, you get some bickering, a little quarrel here and there, but nothing serious.  And little by little, without your realising, you have left the "honeymoon" days behind and picked up the business of everyday living, and everyday living can be a consuming business, as you plan a life together ... So, it is not surprising that married life can lose the rosy tint of young love. 

But you know what, this is normal.

It doesn't mean your love for each other has diminished or faded. It just means your energy is now diverted to the more utilitarian activities of building a family together, including the very important and practical concern of making enough money to expand the family.

But it certainly means that you can easily forget, lose focus on what made you be together in the first place.  And I don't mean the the amnesia kind of forgetting.  It is the short-term kind of forgetting, short enough to make you flare up unreasonably and say hurtful words that you did not really mean to say and regret afterwards. The impulsive kind of outburst that anyone can be prone to.

Like any normal couple, Daddy Low and I have gone through such bouts. And being the more tempestuous one, I have often been the one to stubbornly stick it out and refuse to budge.  The only times when I have given in would be the times when I can clearly see I am in the wrong, but hey, the woman is always, right!  Or so, most times, the woman thinks :)

But any relationship worth its salt works through the knots and rides through such rough spots.  There is only that long a time that any one party can ignore the other and we know that these are only little bumps in our journey that we will have to go through.  So, we accept the bickering and even the more major quarrels, and learn to read each other's patterns and manuovre around each other in those testy times.

But I did say the friends are partly wrong. And that is because we still try to inject little gestures and nice surprises for each other in everyday life. Well, not everyday, but every now and then even in the midst of the business of everyday living. 

I have to admit that I have been short on my end during my pregnancy and after Baby Julien is here. The business of growing a baby while inside and taking care of one while outside certainly wears one out both physically and emotionally.  This is not to say that Daddy Low is not burdened by the duties of this newly expanded family or by the demands of his work.  And I can only be fair here by saying that he has been the more generous one in his patience, affections and energy.

And his tenderness touches my heart.

Like when one day, I was so shattered and just lying in bed, feeling all worn out.  And knowing what a rough night I had, he simply came and laid down beside me and held me. That little embrace may not have been any big thing or expensive gift, but it was a little couple time together that we have found so little time for these days.  It made me think of the advice so many friends gave before delivery - enjoy each other's company before Baby comes.  And I have been so caught up with Baby that I have just all about forgotten that.

And while I was supposed to be confined at home for this one month, Daddy Low would grab opportunities for little breaks for me by bringing me out on little errands that could have been done without me.  Today, we left Baby behind with the grandparents to do a spot of grocery shopping despite my mum's attempts to discourage it.  It was just a trip to the supermarket.  Nothing posh, nothing fancy.  But it was a nice breather.  And suddenly, it struck me that it was really nice to just have some time with Daddy Low alone, even if it was to buy some fruits, meat and peas.

Stolen moments like these are precious to me and now, they stand out vividly in my memories.  I am thankful for these little reminders and know that romance, affection and love do exist even after the "honeymoon" feel may have passed - they just mellow and mature with us and our relationship.

The Nocturnal Life - Night Feeds and Diaper Changes

I seem to lead a double life these days - I'm daughter, wife and mother in the day, and solely mother at night. Specifically, I feel like a milk-at-demand cow plus a handy nappy-changer though Daddy also helps in this sometimes.

I wrote earlier that it seems as if we've always been on this night routine; you sort of forget how it was ever like to sleep through the night normally anymore. But even so, this does not mean familiarity makes it any better. We are still human, and I guess thirty-something-year-old parents find it even harder to deal with sleep deprivation.

I'll say that being first-time parents also does not help. Julien started off on 2 hourly feeds, then, one day, he moved to 3 hourly feeds and you think to yourself, "Wow, that's progress." And one amazing night, he slept through 4 hours and we start to congratulate ourselves that our son has graduated from "little feeder" status. This is especially since another new-mum friend reported the same experience. How naive we were! The next night, he went back to 2 hourly feeds. Later, we were informed by 2 different midwives and the health visitor that babies don't settle into a pattern till they are six weeks old!

Some nights, I start to doubt that I am producing enough milk, since he keeps wanting more. Then, I start to think that maybe, there is enough milk (since the milk glands are actually more stimulated at night), but he just can't suck hard enough to get it out. Then, I think, so maybe I should try to pump it out. Another thought I had was perhaps that he just likes the suckling action, that perhaps it helps to calm him and lull him to sleep... in which case then, I should just give him the pacifier. But at the end of the day, we know the benefits of breast milk, and that it is better to feed directly than pump, so I persist.

So groggily, I get up a few times every night whenever he cries, and automatically feeds him. I have grown used to his pattern - he would drift off into drowsiness when he is done and I'll put him back into his Moses basket. Once there, he would become more awake and thus starts a lengthy self discourse, as he does a mixture of cooing, and grunting. Mostly grunting. We've come to realize that he's already started his own toilet training - 'cos his grunts are the noises preceding a dump. And it would go on for some time as he persists. Finally, you would hear the cannon being discharged and the dear little fellow would let out a satisfied little sigh ... And that is our cue to change the diaper. We used to be amused, but I guess these days, we just wish he would quicken the process, so we can get the change done and over with and everyone can go back to sleep... Because you know the whole thing could start again in two hours' time... :)

Now, about the diaper changing. Daddy Low basically likes to take over this job, since he can't breastfeed and this is his time to bond with Baby (I guess bonding can and does take place over diaper changes...). As first time parents, we are ever vigilant. At first, Daddy Low worried about the fact that Baby doesn't seem to have much poo, that perhaps, this means he is constipated. After the poo came, he worried that Baby does not make much noise to let us know... And if we don't know, Baby may end up with nappy rash. Happily, now that we have learnt to read Julien's sounds, nappy changing is no longer such a worrisome affair. These days, we are just on the debate of diaper changing before feeding or after - before, because Baby tends to fall asleep after feeding and you don't really want to wake him up if you want some sleep yourself; after, because he usually poos after feeding. The strange thing is that among our friends, we have advocates for both arguments, so we are still undecided, though we have largely been doing the latter. It's kind of gross thinking about my baby sleeping in poo...

I guess if there's an upside to this nocturnal life we now lead is that I get to do my FBing, emailing, blogging in the wee hours. And the funny but nice thing is you find that there are many others like me online at this time too. My antenatal class friends and I, who all delivered in August, have been swapping breastfeeding tips and experiences in these hours. You find some comfort in knowing that you are not alone being awake or groping your way in the brave new world of motherhood.