Nico - Day 19
Change of perception
It's funny how perception changes. At some stage in my life running a half marathon would have been considered to be a major achievement. Completing a major transaction at work or producing a coherent set of month end results on time would have felt like major achievements. But today it feels like a major achievement to have had a shower, eaten breakfast, done two loads of washing, fed the baby, been for a walk and done some food shopping all before midday. I did have to leave the baby to cry in his cot for five minutes to manage to have the shower, but a cuddle from a soaking mummy soon stopped the cries.
Home alone with Nico
It's our first day alone today as Ivan has gone back to work and I need to learn quickly not to be a slave to the baby whilst still managing to make him feel secure and loved. And for the sake of my sanity some routine needs to emerge soon. So every day we'll have a new challenge. Today it was just getting out and about, tomorrow it may be walking up to the next town for coffee. In a couple of weeks, amidst the frenetic Christmas shoppers, we'll brave the trip to the big city. Speaking of which, it doesn't even begin to feel festive at all. I know we haven't quite made it to December, but with the weather still good and no frost in sight Christmas doesn't feel like it's only around the corner.
Monday, 30 November 2009
And so it begins...
Apparently the English woman in this small Spanish town is being criticised by local gossipers for taking her baby out and about in babygrows. It seems I am expected to dress him up in a three piece suit complete with bowler hat for every outing. Someone forgot to tell them that new babies sleep for much of the time and need to feel warm and cosy. Comfort and easy access currently rate above fashion and will continue to do so for some time to come. So screw the gossiping masses.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Tits like bricks
Nico - Day 16
Before I had Nico I used to watch women feeding their babies and making it look effortless. After all, it's the most natural thing the world - isn't it? It's what we're designed to do. But natural as it may be, it is still learned. Sex is natural, but you still have to learn how to do it, and breastfeeding has felt much the same.
Snuggling up with your newborn and feeding them is a truly wonderful experience as they cuddle in during the feed and then burp with contentment. But what no one really tells you is that it hurts like hell for the first couple of weeks. The books come clean, but I don't recall any of my friends warning me in advance although some have sympathised in agreement since. Even my NCT classes didn't quite prepare me for the impact of having a baby suckle at my breast for 12 hours a day (at least that's what it feels like at the moment).
The first few days are all about toughening up the nipples as there's no real milk until around day 4. The initial sessions give the baby the liquid gold that is colostrum to line his stomach and to provide him with an immunity boost, but really they're practice runs for both mum and baby for when the milk comes in. The advice for these days is to apply medical grade lanolin as often as you can.
My advice for day 4...buy a supportive bra, some paracetemol, pads that you can chill in the fridge and watch with wonder as the breasts that had grown so much during pregnancy appear to double in size again. Take comfort from the fact that the pain of the milk coming in will pass after a couple of days, only to revisit when the mature milk comes in around day 12.
I'm pleased to say that 16 days in and all of the pain appears to have past and the feeding sessions are no longer dreaded but treasured as a very special time of bonding.
Before I had Nico I used to watch women feeding their babies and making it look effortless. After all, it's the most natural thing the world - isn't it? It's what we're designed to do. But natural as it may be, it is still learned. Sex is natural, but you still have to learn how to do it, and breastfeeding has felt much the same.
Snuggling up with your newborn and feeding them is a truly wonderful experience as they cuddle in during the feed and then burp with contentment. But what no one really tells you is that it hurts like hell for the first couple of weeks. The books come clean, but I don't recall any of my friends warning me in advance although some have sympathised in agreement since. Even my NCT classes didn't quite prepare me for the impact of having a baby suckle at my breast for 12 hours a day (at least that's what it feels like at the moment).
The first few days are all about toughening up the nipples as there's no real milk until around day 4. The initial sessions give the baby the liquid gold that is colostrum to line his stomach and to provide him with an immunity boost, but really they're practice runs for both mum and baby for when the milk comes in. The advice for these days is to apply medical grade lanolin as often as you can.
My advice for day 4...buy a supportive bra, some paracetemol, pads that you can chill in the fridge and watch with wonder as the breasts that had grown so much during pregnancy appear to double in size again. Take comfort from the fact that the pain of the milk coming in will pass after a couple of days, only to revisit when the mature milk comes in around day 12.
I'm pleased to say that 16 days in and all of the pain appears to have past and the feeding sessions are no longer dreaded but treasured as a very special time of bonding.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Don't sweat the small stuff
That's the advice to remain sane in early motherhood and I've been taking deep breaths and muttering it to myself all weekend.
The problem comes in figuring out the small stuff from the big stuff.
Housework and cooking definitely come under small stuff. That said we have to have clean clothes and we have to eat. And I really would be doing myself an injustice if I weren't making the most of my additional 500 calories a day that's meant to be awarded to lactating mothers.
But it's been a tough weekend as I'm already finding that I will have to find a way of coping with letting go so that other people can enjoy Nico. He is, after all, a grandson, a half-brother (although there is no distinction between "full" and "half" in Spain), a nephew, a great-nephew and a cousin.
Watching my seven year-old stepson push the pram with his nine day-old brother was enough to set my heart racing and bring me out in a sweat. "Don't sweat the small stuff", I chanted, but I've barely been allowed to push the pram myself yet as for now it seems that the natural monopoly for pram pushing rests with Dad as some kind of car substitute. I know I'll get plenty of practice from next week when Ivan goes back to work, so again, clearly small stuff. But there have been times when it was all I could do to stop myself from picking Nico up and keeping him in the safety of my arms all weekend. He's still so tiny (although he's gained a mammoth quarter of a kilo just in the last week), and he's my pride and joy, however, I'll have to get used to it but it doesn't mean I have to like it.
The problem comes in figuring out the small stuff from the big stuff.
Housework and cooking definitely come under small stuff. That said we have to have clean clothes and we have to eat. And I really would be doing myself an injustice if I weren't making the most of my additional 500 calories a day that's meant to be awarded to lactating mothers.
But it's been a tough weekend as I'm already finding that I will have to find a way of coping with letting go so that other people can enjoy Nico. He is, after all, a grandson, a half-brother (although there is no distinction between "full" and "half" in Spain), a nephew, a great-nephew and a cousin.
Watching my seven year-old stepson push the pram with his nine day-old brother was enough to set my heart racing and bring me out in a sweat. "Don't sweat the small stuff", I chanted, but I've barely been allowed to push the pram myself yet as for now it seems that the natural monopoly for pram pushing rests with Dad as some kind of car substitute. I know I'll get plenty of practice from next week when Ivan goes back to work, so again, clearly small stuff. But there have been times when it was all I could do to stop myself from picking Nico up and keeping him in the safety of my arms all weekend. He's still so tiny (although he's gained a mammoth quarter of a kilo just in the last week), and he's my pride and joy, however, I'll have to get used to it but it doesn't mean I have to like it.
Friday, 20 November 2009
To dummy or not to dummy
It's a tough one.
For the woman, with two natural dummies in her tool box, it's much easier to take a tougher stance. No dummies please.
For the man, a dummy may just represent the saviour of all sanity.
The facts are there in the books and to my untrained eye any pros are largely outweighed by the cons.
For me the argument is won by the fact that if used within the first few weeks of life, a dummy (so the the experts say) can provide too much sucking satisfaction which then makes the baby lazy at the breast. It doesn't seem to be the case yet...we appear to have a good sucker...but we've had a couple of pretty tough days where it seems that the baby was more hungry than we thought, and I can't help but wonder if the dummy is in some way to blame. Every time Nico spits it out I breathe a sigh of relief that he still prefers to suck on me, but for how long will it last?
So for now, Daddy's treat only, and only at night.
Here's hoping that the photo below really represents what Nico thinks about his dummy.
For the woman, with two natural dummies in her tool box, it's much easier to take a tougher stance. No dummies please.
For the man, a dummy may just represent the saviour of all sanity.
The facts are there in the books and to my untrained eye any pros are largely outweighed by the cons.
For me the argument is won by the fact that if used within the first few weeks of life, a dummy (so the the experts say) can provide too much sucking satisfaction which then makes the baby lazy at the breast. It doesn't seem to be the case yet...we appear to have a good sucker...but we've had a couple of pretty tough days where it seems that the baby was more hungry than we thought, and I can't help but wonder if the dummy is in some way to blame. Every time Nico spits it out I breathe a sigh of relief that he still prefers to suck on me, but for how long will it last?
So for now, Daddy's treat only, and only at night.
Here's hoping that the photo below really represents what Nico thinks about his dummy.
Correspondence with Nico
Barcelona - week 7
Nico - day 8
Letter from Mummy & Daddy to Nico:
Dear Nico,
Please stop crying.
Lots of love Mummy and Daddy xxxx
Nico's response:
Dear Mummy & Daddy,
I'm sorry I've been crying, but the word "should" doesn't seem to apply to me. While maybe I should only be feeding every 3-4 hours, I'm feeling a bit hungry after only 2.
Please feed me every 2 hours (for now at least), and I will do my best to go easy with the howling. It's just my way of letting you know I need you.
Lots of love and dirty nappies,
Nico xxxx
Nico - day 8
Letter from Mummy & Daddy to Nico:
Dear Nico,
Please stop crying.
Lots of love Mummy and Daddy xxxx
Nico's response:
Dear Mummy & Daddy,
I'm sorry I've been crying, but the word "should" doesn't seem to apply to me. While maybe I should only be feeding every 3-4 hours, I'm feeling a bit hungry after only 2.
Please feed me every 2 hours (for now at least), and I will do my best to go easy with the howling. It's just my way of letting you know I need you.
Lots of love and dirty nappies,
Nico xxxx
Thursday, 19 November 2009
The first week - the essentials
Nico is a week old today and although having looked after him for a week makes me qualified for precisely nothing I wanted to note down the items that have been absolutely essential for this week. This is just a reminder in case I ever find myself in this situation again, or so that if any of my first time pregnant friends ask for advice I can give some as I'm not sure I'd remember without writing it down.
For me (Mum) - for hospital and home:
- 3 pairs of pyjamas with front openings - pyjamas are better than nightdresses as then when you feed you can at least preserve some bottom half modesty.
- Nappies and wipes/cotton wool - we were provided with nappies in hospital, but no wipes. I was severely chastised when I called for help during my first night to explain that I needed some help to change the baby as I didn't have any baby wipes or cotton wool. Nasty nurse.
- Snacks (dried fruit, jamon, nuts, seeds) and water - hospital food appears to be dreadful the world over.
- 10 pairs of paper knickers and a large stock of pads - I'll let anyone reading this use their imagination.
- A large tube of Lansinoh - your nipples will be most grateful.
- Slippers - they seem to be a national obsession here, but to keep your toes warm at night when padding to the bathroom they are very welcome.
- Toiletry bag - make up is a waste of time, you simply won't have time. You'll be thankful for shampoo, facewash, moisturiser, scrunchies and a comb.
- An "outfit" to go home in. I use the term "outfit" loosely, and loose is exactly what you want. Prepare yourself to still look 6 months pregnant for a few weeks. I came home in the same that I went in in - black yoga pants and a long sleeved black T shirt. All very dull, but no thought required. Besides there were no paparazzi.
For baby:
Besides the big stuff (pram, cot, car seat), the rest is REALLY essential, or at least it was for us. Depending on the length of stay in hospital, take some of everything.
- Babygrows - I'd equipped us with a mountain of vests and not many babygrows (well ten may seem like a lot, but they soon run out). I now realise I got this the wrong way round. You'll only need the vest underneath if it's cold. So far, front openers are much easier when it comes to changing. And the first day the milk comes in we not only changed his nappy pretty frequently, but also the rest of him.
- Vests - to go under the babygrows if it's cold.
- Hats - to keep his little head warm.
- Mittens - I was surprised to see the baby arrive with long nails that he wasted no time in trying out on his face.
- Socks - only if the babygrow doesn't have feet, otherwise the nurses will put on the socks under the babygrows.
- Baby blankets.
- A dummy - I was against these from the start but if you have a howler then they might come in handy.
- Nappy rash ointment.
- Protection mats for the changing table (I don't know what they're called in English, but in Spanish they're "salvacamas").
- 70% alcohol - it's recommended here to clean the umbilical stump every day with this, so we have.
Quick note - try to buy as much in the UK as possible. When it comes to babies Spain tugs on every emotional heartstring and pursestring - the mark ups are frankly disgusting.
For Dad:
- Plenty of sleep while Mum & baby are in hospital.
- A good book to take to the hospital.
- Snacks as the canteen is pretty rank and overpriced.
- I'm sure there's more...
Other:
A dollop of sense of humour.
A large helping of patience.
A real acceptance that unbroken sleep is a luxury from the past (for the time being).
Amazing parents in-law...their unending generosity and support has been invaluable and I'm not sure we'll ever be able to thank them enough for taking me to hospital, driving Ivan back and forth every day at least twice, entertaining my parents, providing us with enough food to feed the entire apartment block, and of course their advice. The official advice on that way to do things as far as babies are concerned changes almost daily, but the voice of experience is priceless.
For me (Mum) - for hospital and home:
- 3 pairs of pyjamas with front openings - pyjamas are better than nightdresses as then when you feed you can at least preserve some bottom half modesty.
- Nappies and wipes/cotton wool - we were provided with nappies in hospital, but no wipes. I was severely chastised when I called for help during my first night to explain that I needed some help to change the baby as I didn't have any baby wipes or cotton wool. Nasty nurse.
- Snacks (dried fruit, jamon, nuts, seeds) and water - hospital food appears to be dreadful the world over.
- 10 pairs of paper knickers and a large stock of pads - I'll let anyone reading this use their imagination.
- A large tube of Lansinoh - your nipples will be most grateful.
- Slippers - they seem to be a national obsession here, but to keep your toes warm at night when padding to the bathroom they are very welcome.
- Toiletry bag - make up is a waste of time, you simply won't have time. You'll be thankful for shampoo, facewash, moisturiser, scrunchies and a comb.
- An "outfit" to go home in. I use the term "outfit" loosely, and loose is exactly what you want. Prepare yourself to still look 6 months pregnant for a few weeks. I came home in the same that I went in in - black yoga pants and a long sleeved black T shirt. All very dull, but no thought required. Besides there were no paparazzi.
For baby:
Besides the big stuff (pram, cot, car seat), the rest is REALLY essential, or at least it was for us. Depending on the length of stay in hospital, take some of everything.
- Babygrows - I'd equipped us with a mountain of vests and not many babygrows (well ten may seem like a lot, but they soon run out). I now realise I got this the wrong way round. You'll only need the vest underneath if it's cold. So far, front openers are much easier when it comes to changing. And the first day the milk comes in we not only changed his nappy pretty frequently, but also the rest of him.
- Vests - to go under the babygrows if it's cold.
- Hats - to keep his little head warm.
- Mittens - I was surprised to see the baby arrive with long nails that he wasted no time in trying out on his face.
- Socks - only if the babygrow doesn't have feet, otherwise the nurses will put on the socks under the babygrows.
- Baby blankets.
- A dummy - I was against these from the start but if you have a howler then they might come in handy.
- Nappy rash ointment.
- Protection mats for the changing table (I don't know what they're called in English, but in Spanish they're "salvacamas").
- 70% alcohol - it's recommended here to clean the umbilical stump every day with this, so we have.
Quick note - try to buy as much in the UK as possible. When it comes to babies Spain tugs on every emotional heartstring and pursestring - the mark ups are frankly disgusting.
For Dad:
- Plenty of sleep while Mum & baby are in hospital.
- A good book to take to the hospital.
- Snacks as the canteen is pretty rank and overpriced.
- I'm sure there's more...
Other:
A dollop of sense of humour.
A large helping of patience.
A real acceptance that unbroken sleep is a luxury from the past (for the time being).
Amazing parents in-law...their unending generosity and support has been invaluable and I'm not sure we'll ever be able to thank them enough for taking me to hospital, driving Ivan back and forth every day at least twice, entertaining my parents, providing us with enough food to feed the entire apartment block, and of course their advice. The official advice on that way to do things as far as babies are concerned changes almost daily, but the voice of experience is priceless.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Daytime good, nighttime needs some work...
Nico - day 7
Our few days home have been happy, challenging, emotional and full of learning for us all.
The day goes something like this:
Nico wakes around 7 for a feed, then I squeeze in a feed of my own and take a shower before he's ready for more food around 10.
I switch the radio on and Nico sleeps peacefully in his cot until he's feeling peckish again. Thankfully my in-laws arrive at some point with a mountain of food - so much that we can't keep up. The fridge is overflowing with Tupperware pots full of soup, fish, olives, chicken stew, rice pudding - it goes on. There's no worry that I'm not eating.
The nights are proving a little more of a challenge....
Sleeping during the day with the light and the noise (including the hoover!) is not a problem. A feed, a burp, a change, a quick cuddle and he's happy to be back in his cot. But sleeping at night without the arms of Mummy or Daddy cuddling him is not proving very successful. I don't know if it's the dark or the silence that keeps him awake or something else altogether that makes him angry. Is he already remembering that if he cries then he'll be picked up and reassured and kissed and cuddled? The nurses in the hospital said that for the first few weeks that "arm time" was extremely important as the trust is established. And I keep reminding myself that he is less than a week old, but I know that continuing to let Nico sleep in our arms is spelling difficult times ahead, not to mention high levels of sleep deprivation.
All suggestions welcome :-)
Our few days home have been happy, challenging, emotional and full of learning for us all.
The day goes something like this:
Nico wakes around 7 for a feed, then I squeeze in a feed of my own and take a shower before he's ready for more food around 10.
I switch the radio on and Nico sleeps peacefully in his cot until he's feeling peckish again. Thankfully my in-laws arrive at some point with a mountain of food - so much that we can't keep up. The fridge is overflowing with Tupperware pots full of soup, fish, olives, chicken stew, rice pudding - it goes on. There's no worry that I'm not eating.
The nights are proving a little more of a challenge....
Sleeping during the day with the light and the noise (including the hoover!) is not a problem. A feed, a burp, a change, a quick cuddle and he's happy to be back in his cot. But sleeping at night without the arms of Mummy or Daddy cuddling him is not proving very successful. I don't know if it's the dark or the silence that keeps him awake or something else altogether that makes him angry. Is he already remembering that if he cries then he'll be picked up and reassured and kissed and cuddled? The nurses in the hospital said that for the first few weeks that "arm time" was extremely important as the trust is established. And I keep reminding myself that he is less than a week old, but I know that continuing to let Nico sleep in our arms is spelling difficult times ahead, not to mention high levels of sleep deprivation.
All suggestions welcome :-)
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Letter of redemption
Dear Husband,
I take it back.
You have proved me wrong (again!).
Thank you for buying me baked beans, tabasco sauce, Worcestershire sauce and salt & vinegar crisps. Clearly I wasn't looking hard enough. I'll have to update my list of what I can and cannot buy here in Spain.
I'm so pleased our little boy will know what baked beans are :-).
Your Wife
xxx
I take it back.
You have proved me wrong (again!).
Thank you for buying me baked beans, tabasco sauce, Worcestershire sauce and salt & vinegar crisps. Clearly I wasn't looking hard enough. I'll have to update my list of what I can and cannot buy here in Spain.
I'm so pleased our little boy will know what baked beans are :-).
Your Wife
xxx
I'm sorry I haven't a clue...
Nico - Day 5
Barcelona - Week 6
...that's what I'm listening to right now, and as I embark on motherhood it seems rather apt. But one day at a time as we all embark on this new journey.
I feel so blessed to be with Ivan who has done it all before. It makes me calmer to know that at least one of the three of us has some experience.
Any doubts that I had about moving to Spain to have the baby have vanished in the last few days. Just two hours after giving birth Ivan's Mum and Dad and his two brothers were all in the hospital to meet the new addition to the family.
And since he arrived my in-laws have been wonderful with regular deliveries of Spanish home cooked food and wholehearted support in all that we need. A paella on Saturday, Catalan soup on Sunday (beans and rice all in a pork soup), steak on Monday and now chicken casserole today - all accompanied by loads of fresh fruit, yogurt, blue fish and dried fruit. It's wonderful, although I know that at some stage I'll have to start cooking myself, but for now I'll enjoy being spoiled.
Barcelona - Week 6
...that's what I'm listening to right now, and as I embark on motherhood it seems rather apt. But one day at a time as we all embark on this new journey.
I feel so blessed to be with Ivan who has done it all before. It makes me calmer to know that at least one of the three of us has some experience.
Any doubts that I had about moving to Spain to have the baby have vanished in the last few days. Just two hours after giving birth Ivan's Mum and Dad and his two brothers were all in the hospital to meet the new addition to the family.
And since he arrived my in-laws have been wonderful with regular deliveries of Spanish home cooked food and wholehearted support in all that we need. A paella on Saturday, Catalan soup on Sunday (beans and rice all in a pork soup), steak on Monday and now chicken casserole today - all accompanied by loads of fresh fruit, yogurt, blue fish and dried fruit. It's wonderful, although I know that at some stage I'll have to start cooking myself, but for now I'll enjoy being spoiled.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Hello World - Nicolas Alexander Pedrazas...
.....was born at 7.15am on Thursday 12 November 2009.
My fears of waking my husband who would then have to wake his parents to take me to the hospital turned out to be entirely unfounded. The baby was knocking on the door to the world.
It went something like this...
3.30am woke Ivan
3.35am Ivan called his parents while I took a quick shower
3.45am Ivan's Mum & Dad arrived to take us to the hospital
4.00am arrived at Hospital de Mataro at A&E
4.15am a nursing assistant put me in a room that flon my back and strapped monitors to me before admitting that she wasn't quite sure what I was allowed to do and not to do (sorry Cathy if you're reading this...I was desperately trying to move off my back but then the monitors weren't working)
4.30am the midwife came to see me and declared that this was going to be quick, I was already pretty much fully dilated
4.45am the pain was pretty intense and the urge to push overbearing. I was still on my back and beginning to think that perhaps trying to have a natural labour here in Spain where they didn't seem to be comfortable with me being in any position other than my back and not letting me move about was not quite what I'd wanted and perhaps not the best idea. Besides, my interview for natural labour isn't until next Monday so I really didn't quite know what to expect. Bring on the epidural. It had to be now or it was going to be too late...
I think the epidural was administered at about 5am which took most of the pain away and gave me an hour or so to try to rest before the big push. I don't remember much but do remember that I was being told it was extremely important not to move (try staying still when your having contractions every 2 minutes) and to calm down. There's no denying that I was very scared. A few minutes after the epidural I started to tremble and shake - I'm not sure if it was the effect of the anaesthetic or a reaction of being scared and pretty much out of control.
It must have been around 6.30am that Ivan appeared in scrubs looking like an extra from ER and I was moved to what looked like an operating theatre. Nico made it out at 7.15am. See the link to Ivan's blog if you want to see some pictures.
I can't quite believe that he's here already. He's beautiful and every time I look at him I want to cry with relief that he made it out into the world safely.
My fears of waking my husband who would then have to wake his parents to take me to the hospital turned out to be entirely unfounded. The baby was knocking on the door to the world.
It went something like this...
3.30am woke Ivan
3.35am Ivan called his parents while I took a quick shower
3.45am Ivan's Mum & Dad arrived to take us to the hospital
4.00am arrived at Hospital de Mataro at A&E
4.15am a nursing assistant put me in a room that flon my back and strapped monitors to me before admitting that she wasn't quite sure what I was allowed to do and not to do (sorry Cathy if you're reading this...I was desperately trying to move off my back but then the monitors weren't working)
4.30am the midwife came to see me and declared that this was going to be quick, I was already pretty much fully dilated
4.45am the pain was pretty intense and the urge to push overbearing. I was still on my back and beginning to think that perhaps trying to have a natural labour here in Spain where they didn't seem to be comfortable with me being in any position other than my back and not letting me move about was not quite what I'd wanted and perhaps not the best idea. Besides, my interview for natural labour isn't until next Monday so I really didn't quite know what to expect. Bring on the epidural. It had to be now or it was going to be too late...
I think the epidural was administered at about 5am which took most of the pain away and gave me an hour or so to try to rest before the big push. I don't remember much but do remember that I was being told it was extremely important not to move (try staying still when your having contractions every 2 minutes) and to calm down. There's no denying that I was very scared. A few minutes after the epidural I started to tremble and shake - I'm not sure if it was the effect of the anaesthetic or a reaction of being scared and pretty much out of control.
It must have been around 6.30am that Ivan appeared in scrubs looking like an extra from ER and I was moved to what looked like an operating theatre. Nico made it out at 7.15am. See the link to Ivan's blog if you want to see some pictures.
I can't quite believe that he's here already. He's beautiful and every time I look at him I want to cry with relief that he made it out into the world safely.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Is this the real thing..?
38 weeks
It's been a hectic day.
Looking after my stepson and using my persuasive techniques to get him up, fed, showered, dressed and into the city after a week off sick (him, not me) took most of the morning. The trip into the city took most of the afternoon, and the day rounded off with a trip to the midwife this evening followed by some logistics to hand back my dogs in-law.
Finally the appointment has come through at the right hospital for next Monday. I fear however that this may be a little late...
I'm not quite sure my hectic day is over. I've been having mild contractions on and off for weeks which is completely normal. But having one just as I was being looked at by the midwife today, I wish I paid more attention as to when exactly she said I should get myself to the hospital. I'm up and having a cup of tea (oh how English), timing the contractions and trying to decide what to do next. Shower? Wake my husband? Read the instructions of the TENS machine that I've hired but haven't quite got round to looking at?
A quick look online tells me that "When you have four to six contractions for two hours in a row, it's time to call the doctor. Chances are good that you're in labor...". I've had 7 in the last forty minutes, but they don't yet appear to be all that regular. I think it could be time to wake Ivan. Shame that I don't yet have a doctor. Looks like it's going to have to be A&E.
It's been a hectic day.
Looking after my stepson and using my persuasive techniques to get him up, fed, showered, dressed and into the city after a week off sick (him, not me) took most of the morning. The trip into the city took most of the afternoon, and the day rounded off with a trip to the midwife this evening followed by some logistics to hand back my dogs in-law.
Finally the appointment has come through at the right hospital for next Monday. I fear however that this may be a little late...
I'm not quite sure my hectic day is over. I've been having mild contractions on and off for weeks which is completely normal. But having one just as I was being looked at by the midwife today, I wish I paid more attention as to when exactly she said I should get myself to the hospital. I'm up and having a cup of tea (oh how English), timing the contractions and trying to decide what to do next. Shower? Wake my husband? Read the instructions of the TENS machine that I've hired but haven't quite got round to looking at?
A quick look online tells me that "When you have four to six contractions for two hours in a row, it's time to call the doctor. Chances are good that you're in labor...". I've had 7 in the last forty minutes, but they don't yet appear to be all that regular. I think it could be time to wake Ivan. Shame that I don't yet have a doctor. Looks like it's going to have to be A&E.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Ten stone
37 weeks, 5 days
Today is the day that I tipped the scales at ten stone. Officially the heaviest I've ever been, and fast catching up with my husband :-). "Jack Sprat could eat no fat his wife could eat no lean" springs to mind. So that's just shy of two stone so far. Given that the baby weighs in at less than a quarter of this (just over 6 pounds at the latest scan), it seems a lot, but I've been assured that anything between 25 to 35 pounds is considered normal.
I've been reading about one of the not quite so pleasant post partum effects...profuse night sweating as my body attempts to shed all of the extra fluid it's been holding on to. And if my legs are anything to go by it feels like there could be quite a lot. I look down at them and feel about a hundred and fifty years old. Ankles bones appear to be history for now.
And my activities for the next day or so? I shall be mostly eating it seems, which may just blow the "normal" 35 pounds out of the water.
And why shall I be mostly eating? I have been left in charge of my in-laws' house and their dogs as they head to Madrid. Last night I was given a tour of the kitchen to show me all of the food that has been left for us. They are away for 36 hours. The amount of food makes it look as if it could be nearer 36 weeks. Both fridges and the freezer are packed to the gills with pre-cooked and fresh food, the table is groaning under the weight of the fruit fresh from yesterday's market and they've bought in extra chocolate in case my sweet cravings kick in. At least taking the dogs for a walk will give me some exercise, although a 19 year-old Yorkshire terrier and an 8 year-old Basset Hound that has to be coaxed out of the door with biscuits don't threaten much of a sweat.
Today is the day that I tipped the scales at ten stone. Officially the heaviest I've ever been, and fast catching up with my husband :-). "Jack Sprat could eat no fat his wife could eat no lean" springs to mind. So that's just shy of two stone so far. Given that the baby weighs in at less than a quarter of this (just over 6 pounds at the latest scan), it seems a lot, but I've been assured that anything between 25 to 35 pounds is considered normal.
I've been reading about one of the not quite so pleasant post partum effects...profuse night sweating as my body attempts to shed all of the extra fluid it's been holding on to. And if my legs are anything to go by it feels like there could be quite a lot. I look down at them and feel about a hundred and fifty years old. Ankles bones appear to be history for now.
And my activities for the next day or so? I shall be mostly eating it seems, which may just blow the "normal" 35 pounds out of the water.
And why shall I be mostly eating? I have been left in charge of my in-laws' house and their dogs as they head to Madrid. Last night I was given a tour of the kitchen to show me all of the food that has been left for us. They are away for 36 hours. The amount of food makes it look as if it could be nearer 36 weeks. Both fridges and the freezer are packed to the gills with pre-cooked and fresh food, the table is groaning under the weight of the fruit fresh from yesterday's market and they've bought in extra chocolate in case my sweet cravings kick in. At least taking the dogs for a walk will give me some exercise, although a 19 year-old Yorkshire terrier and an 8 year-old Basset Hound that has to be coaxed out of the door with biscuits don't threaten much of a sweat.
Monday, 9 November 2009
Five times a day
3 meals a day here is not acceptable.
5 meals a day are a must.
Any less and the locals feel as if they have been conned.
1. #1 Breakfast. Taken between 6-7am.
Coffee and toast. A pat on the back for getting out of bed.
2. # 2 Breakfast. Taken between 10-11am.
An omelette sandwich. Self congratulation for making it to work, and an excuse for a break.
3. 1-4pm: Lunch. A well deserved rest from the long working day. A four course meal usually eaten out (menu del dia). A standard ration would be soup, salad, main course, dessert and coffee.
4. 5-6pm: Merienda (afternoon snack). Usually biscuits, cake, or perhaps some fruit to keep the sugar levels up until dinner.
5. 9-11pm: Dinner. A chance to discuss the day and of course to talk about what everyone's eaten that day. A full family affair around the table with starter, main course and dessert.
No wonder the working day here is so long. About half of it is taken up with eating!
5 meals a day are a must.
Any less and the locals feel as if they have been conned.
1. #1 Breakfast. Taken between 6-7am.
Coffee and toast. A pat on the back for getting out of bed.
2. # 2 Breakfast. Taken between 10-11am.
An omelette sandwich. Self congratulation for making it to work, and an excuse for a break.
3. 1-4pm: Lunch. A well deserved rest from the long working day. A four course meal usually eaten out (menu del dia). A standard ration would be soup, salad, main course, dessert and coffee.
4. 5-6pm: Merienda (afternoon snack). Usually biscuits, cake, or perhaps some fruit to keep the sugar levels up until dinner.
5. 9-11pm: Dinner. A chance to discuss the day and of course to talk about what everyone's eaten that day. A full family affair around the table with starter, main course and dessert.
No wonder the working day here is so long. About half of it is taken up with eating!
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Strange cravings and rice pudding
It's odd, now that I'm not in the UK, I find myself missing things that have never been especially important to me.
On Friday as part of my trip into the city I definitely wanted to pay a visit to Barcelona's one and only Bagel shop. I can't remember the last time I ate a bagel in the UK, but making sure I had half a dozen on Friday for the weekend suddenly seemed very important.
There are the obvious things that I knew I would miss but our vast amounts of luggage when we left meant that I didn't bring any of them with me. I know they will taste all the sweeter when I do finally get to eat them again...
Baked beans
Salt & vinegar crisps
Marmite
Flapjacks
Tabasco sauce
Sliced bread - you can buy it here but the size of each piece of bread is about enough for two bites, and in most cases the crust has been removed. Eating anything here with the skin on is just considered to be wrong. I'm eyed with enormous suspicion when I bite into an apple or a peach. "Man alive, she's eating the skin."
That said, my mother-in-law has just made me a rice pudding and I've been ordered up the road to go and eat. Rice pudding is something which I've always associated with being very British. But rice here is the food of the Gods and they do know how to make a good one, even if it will inevitably be served cold.
On Friday as part of my trip into the city I definitely wanted to pay a visit to Barcelona's one and only Bagel shop. I can't remember the last time I ate a bagel in the UK, but making sure I had half a dozen on Friday for the weekend suddenly seemed very important.
There are the obvious things that I knew I would miss but our vast amounts of luggage when we left meant that I didn't bring any of them with me. I know they will taste all the sweeter when I do finally get to eat them again...
Baked beans
Salt & vinegar crisps
Marmite
Flapjacks
Tabasco sauce
Sliced bread - you can buy it here but the size of each piece of bread is about enough for two bites, and in most cases the crust has been removed. Eating anything here with the skin on is just considered to be wrong. I'm eyed with enormous suspicion when I bite into an apple or a peach. "Man alive, she's eating the skin."
That said, my mother-in-law has just made me a rice pudding and I've been ordered up the road to go and eat. Rice pudding is something which I've always associated with being very British. But rice here is the food of the Gods and they do know how to make a good one, even if it will inevitably be served cold.
Friday, 6 November 2009
Couples of today are too selfish to be parents...
...that's what I'm listening to now on the radio.
The world population is growing but the European population is shrinking. The chief rabbi has said that Europe is dying as the indigenous population is too selfish to have children. His explanation: that we are hooked on consumerism and instant gratification.
One of nine children has just called into the radio show to say the important things are not constant presents, nintendos or holidays...but much more important is to go for long walks, to learn your place in the family and to always have someone to play with. A mother of two young boys has called in to say that two is her limit and yes she does now want to be selfish and find time for herself and also to dedicate the time that she does have to the development of her two existing children, not to have any more. Clearly there are benefits to both. Any children at all are a blessing but there will be differences in opinion in what provides the best environment to raise them.
It's true that in the UK today it is normal to be one of two or three. A little more unusual to be one of four and considered very unusual to be one of more than five.
In my own direct linage my paternal grandfather was one of eleven (spot the Irish link), my maternal grandmother an only child, my maternal grandfather was one of four, and my maternal grandmother one of four. My father one of two, my mother an only child. I'm one of two, before complicating the scene with step-siblings of which I have another four. My husband is one of three.
But is it true that we are now a generation of people far too selfish to have any children or at a push more than two? And are the chief rabbi's comments correct?
Being 35 and about to have my first, then it's pretty clear that I won't be having nine. I'm simply too old for having a large family to be a consideration. Which triggers a whole host of additional questions: why did I wait so long? did I consciously put my career and my financial independence first? did I deliberately spend my earlier years as avoiding starting a family? I could probably write a book on this, but not here today.
Would I like more? Of course I would - there's nothing quite like growing up with a brother or sister close in age to share life with, but let's see how this one goes and how the integration goes with our "blended" family. Step-parenting is considered to be even more difficult than parenting, and step-families are more likely to break up than any other family. Throw in a mixed culture (or three) and undoubtedly we have some challenges ahead.
The world population is growing but the European population is shrinking. The chief rabbi has said that Europe is dying as the indigenous population is too selfish to have children. His explanation: that we are hooked on consumerism and instant gratification.
One of nine children has just called into the radio show to say the important things are not constant presents, nintendos or holidays...but much more important is to go for long walks, to learn your place in the family and to always have someone to play with. A mother of two young boys has called in to say that two is her limit and yes she does now want to be selfish and find time for herself and also to dedicate the time that she does have to the development of her two existing children, not to have any more. Clearly there are benefits to both. Any children at all are a blessing but there will be differences in opinion in what provides the best environment to raise them.
It's true that in the UK today it is normal to be one of two or three. A little more unusual to be one of four and considered very unusual to be one of more than five.
In my own direct linage my paternal grandfather was one of eleven (spot the Irish link), my maternal grandmother an only child, my maternal grandfather was one of four, and my maternal grandmother one of four. My father one of two, my mother an only child. I'm one of two, before complicating the scene with step-siblings of which I have another four. My husband is one of three.
But is it true that we are now a generation of people far too selfish to have any children or at a push more than two? And are the chief rabbi's comments correct?
Being 35 and about to have my first, then it's pretty clear that I won't be having nine. I'm simply too old for having a large family to be a consideration. Which triggers a whole host of additional questions: why did I wait so long? did I consciously put my career and my financial independence first? did I deliberately spend my earlier years as avoiding starting a family? I could probably write a book on this, but not here today.
Would I like more? Of course I would - there's nothing quite like growing up with a brother or sister close in age to share life with, but let's see how this one goes and how the integration goes with our "blended" family. Step-parenting is considered to be even more difficult than parenting, and step-families are more likely to break up than any other family. Throw in a mixed culture (or three) and undoubtedly we have some challenges ahead.
Thursday, 5 November 2009
London - not so expensive after all
Barcelona - Day 29
37 weeks - officially classed as full term today, although not expecting any appearances for a few weeks yet
We've been in Spain for almost a month. The transition from the UK has been a fairly expensive one (husband, please don't read on as you will again accuse me of being obsessed with money which is neither true nor fair).
Major move costs included:
Preparing our flat in London for rental - just shy of £4,000 for the year: (safety certificates - £150, boiler repairs due to shoddy installation - £300, decorating - £1,000, deep cleaning - £300, key cutting - £50, professional inventory - £120, estate agent costs for the year - £1,750).
Perhaps it's not fair to include this as a move cost as we would have had to move anyway - a one bedroom flat on the third floor with no lift would have surely scored highly on the impracticability index. Most of the costs should be (hopefully) one-off costs not to be seen again, but we'll see. The good news is that the monthly mortgage payments have reduced by almost £250 so the rental income now more than covers the mortgage and running costs. One less thing to worry about.
Storing items that we didn't ship - £80 per month
Shipping items that we didn't store - £400
New luggage to maxmise our baggage allowance - £200
Excess baggage costs to cover the additional weight we managed to cram into our extra large suitcases - £100
One-way flights from UK to Spain - £150
Equipping our new flat in Barcelona from Ikea with basic living items - £350
Spanish estate agent costs - £550
I'm fast discovering, that other than property rental and public transport; and it is well known that the cost of public transport in London is obscene; that living here in Spain is really no cheaper than living in London. On many counts it certainly feels as expensive if not more so. Our timing as far as the £/Euro rate is concerned has been pretty poor, but even if we were living in the heady times of a couple of years ago when a British pound bought about 1.4 euros, I still think that my conclusion would be the same. Perhaps I need to adjust my buying to buy the same as the locals, which is largely what I've been trying to do, but there are some things that really do feel like daylight robbery.
A bottle of Listerine mouthwash, 6 euros (in the UK, £2.50)
A bottle of baby lotion, 18 euros (in the UK, £2 for a well known brand)
A babygrow, 30 euros (in the UK, £10 for 6 and they would be "not just any babygrows")
5 bananas, 4 apples and 2 custard apples from the market, 6 euros
I have already started compiling my list of things to bring back from my first trip home.
37 weeks - officially classed as full term today, although not expecting any appearances for a few weeks yet
We've been in Spain for almost a month. The transition from the UK has been a fairly expensive one (husband, please don't read on as you will again accuse me of being obsessed with money which is neither true nor fair).
Major move costs included:
Preparing our flat in London for rental - just shy of £4,000 for the year: (safety certificates - £150, boiler repairs due to shoddy installation - £300, decorating - £1,000, deep cleaning - £300, key cutting - £50, professional inventory - £120, estate agent costs for the year - £1,750).
Perhaps it's not fair to include this as a move cost as we would have had to move anyway - a one bedroom flat on the third floor with no lift would have surely scored highly on the impracticability index. Most of the costs should be (hopefully) one-off costs not to be seen again, but we'll see. The good news is that the monthly mortgage payments have reduced by almost £250 so the rental income now more than covers the mortgage and running costs. One less thing to worry about.
Storing items that we didn't ship - £80 per month
Shipping items that we didn't store - £400
New luggage to maxmise our baggage allowance - £200
Excess baggage costs to cover the additional weight we managed to cram into our extra large suitcases - £100
One-way flights from UK to Spain - £150
Equipping our new flat in Barcelona from Ikea with basic living items - £350
Spanish estate agent costs - £550
I'm fast discovering, that other than property rental and public transport; and it is well known that the cost of public transport in London is obscene; that living here in Spain is really no cheaper than living in London. On many counts it certainly feels as expensive if not more so. Our timing as far as the £/Euro rate is concerned has been pretty poor, but even if we were living in the heady times of a couple of years ago when a British pound bought about 1.4 euros, I still think that my conclusion would be the same. Perhaps I need to adjust my buying to buy the same as the locals, which is largely what I've been trying to do, but there are some things that really do feel like daylight robbery.
A bottle of Listerine mouthwash, 6 euros (in the UK, £2.50)
A bottle of baby lotion, 18 euros (in the UK, £2 for a well known brand)
A babygrow, 30 euros (in the UK, £10 for 6 and they would be "not just any babygrows")
5 bananas, 4 apples and 2 custard apples from the market, 6 euros
I have already started compiling my list of things to bring back from my first trip home.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Bag packed
La Canestilla (the hospital bag)
37 weeks is the official time to pack the bag if not already done. Hospital stays here in Spain seem to be a little longer than in the UK (and I know that Ivan is counting on this to tidy the flat). If everything goes to plan with no complications then a two night stay is normal, and the time can be a little longer if things don't go quite as smoothly as one would hope.
I was given a list of "things to take to the hospital" at home but I asked the midwife here if she had one as I had a suspicion it would be different. And it is. First on the Spanish list for me is.....a hairdryer. I suppose that they must be thinking about the first few photos here and giving you the opportunity to ensure you look your best, but I was a little surprised to see it on the list. Other than that, the list for me is surprisingly short. Slippers, dressing gown, wash bag, 3 night dresses, 6 pairs of knickers and a couple of bras. So nothing to go home in then.
The list for the baby is quite extensive and includes among other items a fairly long list of baby toileteries (including perfume). Perfume?! I had to read it twice and then ask if I'd read it correctly. I'm not quite sure that I dare mention to anyone here that the advice I received during the NCT classes was that soap is really not necessary for the first few months - water and cotton wool is quite sufficient. And simple olive oil is about the best moisturiser you can use. Just as well as a standard bottle of baby lotion retails in the pharmacies here for a whopping 18 Euros. Things for babies are pretty much only available in pharmacies in Spain. The inevitability of this is a hefty price tag on just about everything. Apparently there were riots a couple of years ago when supermarkets won the right to sell formula and baby food.
Other items to bring include:
4 vests (tick)
4 babygrows (tick)
4 cardigans (we don't have any)
4 pairs of socks (tick)
2 hats (tick)
2 - of something that neither of us know what it is - arrullos. Perhaps they mean blankets.
We've also been told that we have to make up daily bags for the baby to hand to the nurse who will dress the baby every day. Each bag must contain a vest, a babygrow, a cardigan, a pair of socks, and a hat (which can be used twice...). I was regarded with horror when I suggested using supermarket plastic bags. No, not surprisingly you can buy special bags fit for purpose. From the pharmacy, of course.
37 weeks is the official time to pack the bag if not already done. Hospital stays here in Spain seem to be a little longer than in the UK (and I know that Ivan is counting on this to tidy the flat). If everything goes to plan with no complications then a two night stay is normal, and the time can be a little longer if things don't go quite as smoothly as one would hope.
I was given a list of "things to take to the hospital" at home but I asked the midwife here if she had one as I had a suspicion it would be different. And it is. First on the Spanish list for me is.....a hairdryer. I suppose that they must be thinking about the first few photos here and giving you the opportunity to ensure you look your best, but I was a little surprised to see it on the list. Other than that, the list for me is surprisingly short. Slippers, dressing gown, wash bag, 3 night dresses, 6 pairs of knickers and a couple of bras. So nothing to go home in then.
The list for the baby is quite extensive and includes among other items a fairly long list of baby toileteries (including perfume). Perfume?! I had to read it twice and then ask if I'd read it correctly. I'm not quite sure that I dare mention to anyone here that the advice I received during the NCT classes was that soap is really not necessary for the first few months - water and cotton wool is quite sufficient. And simple olive oil is about the best moisturiser you can use. Just as well as a standard bottle of baby lotion retails in the pharmacies here for a whopping 18 Euros. Things for babies are pretty much only available in pharmacies in Spain. The inevitability of this is a hefty price tag on just about everything. Apparently there were riots a couple of years ago when supermarkets won the right to sell formula and baby food.
Other items to bring include:
4 vests (tick)
4 babygrows (tick)
4 cardigans (we don't have any)
4 pairs of socks (tick)
2 hats (tick)
2 - of something that neither of us know what it is - arrullos. Perhaps they mean blankets.
We've also been told that we have to make up daily bags for the baby to hand to the nurse who will dress the baby every day. Each bag must contain a vest, a babygrow, a cardigan, a pair of socks, and a hat (which can be used twice...). I was regarded with horror when I suggested using supermarket plastic bags. No, not surprisingly you can buy special bags fit for purpose. From the pharmacy, of course.
Where exactly does the milk come from?
Boob holes
I've found myself looking at my boobs and wondering where the holes are. They've certainly done what was expected of them so far...outgrown every bra I've ever owned and made a grand effort to keep up with my expanding belly. But I can't help wondering just quite where the milk will come from. It's not as obvious as one might have thought. Yet another discovery on the path of enlightenment. Speaking of which, no lightening as of yet. Officially full term tomorrow (37 weeks) but no sign of dropping so I think it could be a while yet.
I've found myself looking at my boobs and wondering where the holes are. They've certainly done what was expected of them so far...outgrown every bra I've ever owned and made a grand effort to keep up with my expanding belly. But I can't help wondering just quite where the milk will come from. It's not as obvious as one might have thought. Yet another discovery on the path of enlightenment. Speaking of which, no lightening as of yet. Officially full term tomorrow (37 weeks) but no sign of dropping so I think it could be a while yet.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Domestic Goddess...not
Barcelona - Day 26
Trying to integrate into life here has seen a change in my cooking. It's partly to reflect what's available, and partly to learn some new skills in my remaining few weeks where I have little time.
So last night's attempt...deep fried calamari. Yummy.
I didn't bring any recipe books with me so I'm relying on my memory and online recipes. Having bought a whole squid at Saturday's market and knowing that I had eggs and flour I thought I was set. Not so. As I looked online, I read with dismay that eggs are the enemy of a good batter. All I needed was flour, baking soda and sparkling water (or beer). So I duly followed the recipe, prepared my batter (no eggs), heated the oil (and I'm always worried it will catch fire, so damp tea towel at the ready), dipped my squid in the batter and threw it into the oil for 3-4 minutes. All remarkably simple. Except the batter didn't stick, so we had succulent tender naked squid and a lovely crunchy empty batter.
Perhaps I needed a little egg after all.
Trying to integrate into life here has seen a change in my cooking. It's partly to reflect what's available, and partly to learn some new skills in my remaining few weeks where I have little time.
So last night's attempt...deep fried calamari. Yummy.
I didn't bring any recipe books with me so I'm relying on my memory and online recipes. Having bought a whole squid at Saturday's market and knowing that I had eggs and flour I thought I was set. Not so. As I looked online, I read with dismay that eggs are the enemy of a good batter. All I needed was flour, baking soda and sparkling water (or beer). So I duly followed the recipe, prepared my batter (no eggs), heated the oil (and I'm always worried it will catch fire, so damp tea towel at the ready), dipped my squid in the batter and threw it into the oil for 3-4 minutes. All remarkably simple. Except the batter didn't stick, so we had succulent tender naked squid and a lovely crunchy empty batter.
Perhaps I needed a little egg after all.
Monday, 2 November 2009
What's in a christian name?
We had a large family lunch yesterday to celebrate la Ya-Ya's (grandma's) 64th birthday. By large, it was no larger than usual since it seems to be normal here that the entire family meets for lunch weekly. But this time there was cake and cava. Lovely.
My brother-in-law and his wife are expecting their third baby in April and announced yesterday what the name will be. Heavens above, they don't even know the sex yet. After we came home Ivan chatted to a friend of his who is expecting in March, and they have also named theirs. It seems once again I am in disgrace for not naming ours. Other than managing to conceive at all, it seems I am failing this crucial test.
I’m not especially superstitious but perhaps a little fearful of counting my chickens before they hatch and of bringing bad luck to the birth of my child. There's almost a need to avoid personifying the baby too much or creating an image of my child in my head before it's born. I have no idea what he'll look like let alone what sort of temperment he'll display. And a name is so important and so final. So what's the rush?
What I find really quite unnerving is people who use their baby's name in public before birth. We're using a nickname during pregnancy..."Popcorn"...which refers to my description of how it felt when I sensed those precious first movements all those months ago. At 37 weeks, the movements may not feel like popping corn anymore, but the name has stuck. Relax, I'm fairly sure that it will be discarded the moment he has a real name.
As for the real name, we'll keep that to ourselves until we feel it's a good fit (which we'll have to do pretty quickly given the time constraints for registering the birth). It seems that I am not alone in this, although I may be the only woman in Spain to think this way. To quote Seinfeld talking about people who refer to their baby using his or her name in the run up to when it's born, who cover the nursery with embroidered bed linen and pictures using the name, "Not that there is anything wrong with that…it’s just creepy to me." My sentiments entirely.
There are also practical reasons why I don’t want to share the name until he's born. During pregnancy, relatives and friends often feel free to criticise the chosen name or worse, become insulted if the child isn’t named after a certain loved one, or a certain tradition. My experience of throwing just a few names onto the table is exactly that. But it’s harder to be critical of the name if it’s announced with the arrival of a precious newborn. After all, it takes real nerve to confront brand new parents over a name. Or perhaps not in Spain.
My brother-in-law and his wife are expecting their third baby in April and announced yesterday what the name will be. Heavens above, they don't even know the sex yet. After we came home Ivan chatted to a friend of his who is expecting in March, and they have also named theirs. It seems once again I am in disgrace for not naming ours. Other than managing to conceive at all, it seems I am failing this crucial test.
I’m not especially superstitious but perhaps a little fearful of counting my chickens before they hatch and of bringing bad luck to the birth of my child. There's almost a need to avoid personifying the baby too much or creating an image of my child in my head before it's born. I have no idea what he'll look like let alone what sort of temperment he'll display. And a name is so important and so final. So what's the rush?
What I find really quite unnerving is people who use their baby's name in public before birth. We're using a nickname during pregnancy..."Popcorn"...which refers to my description of how it felt when I sensed those precious first movements all those months ago. At 37 weeks, the movements may not feel like popping corn anymore, but the name has stuck. Relax, I'm fairly sure that it will be discarded the moment he has a real name.
As for the real name, we'll keep that to ourselves until we feel it's a good fit (which we'll have to do pretty quickly given the time constraints for registering the birth). It seems that I am not alone in this, although I may be the only woman in Spain to think this way. To quote Seinfeld talking about people who refer to their baby using his or her name in the run up to when it's born, who cover the nursery with embroidered bed linen and pictures using the name, "Not that there is anything wrong with that…it’s just creepy to me." My sentiments entirely.
There are also practical reasons why I don’t want to share the name until he's born. During pregnancy, relatives and friends often feel free to criticise the chosen name or worse, become insulted if the child isn’t named after a certain loved one, or a certain tradition. My experience of throwing just a few names onto the table is exactly that. But it’s harder to be critical of the name if it’s announced with the arrival of a precious newborn. After all, it takes real nerve to confront brand new parents over a name. Or perhaps not in Spain.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
