Spawn – Page 29 – Disco Knitter

Mama, how do girls pee if they haven’t got a penis?

You’d be surprised at the vast array of things girls can do without a penis my darling….

Perhaps it’s to early to be discussing sexism and the other horrors of the world? I’ve told him that Libyans are getting killed because they don’t like their boss, that Japan got a big owie and it might get a lot bigger, and that having a morals clause on permanent residency is just plain mean, but I am not sure that feminism is going to sink in, since he is still not exactly sure what the difference between girls and boys is.

Comments?

Fiji

We’re off on Tuesday the 26th, and back on the 5th of May. We all have passports, and apparently I will be able to travel on my ticket despite the fact that my passport is still in my old name. We have Fiji dollars, we have sunscreen, and we have a small budget (Mark’s company will reimburse us for “expenses”, but I don’t want to bankrupt them with my daiquiri bill!).

Inigo asks every day, “are we going to Fiji today mama?”, and Bev and Ted have been showing him pictures of his father in Fiji at a similar age.

I’m not excited yet, because I still feel like it’s not real. It’s too amazing, and generous, and crazy, and I suppose I am still a little out of touch with reality.

I went to the neonatal loss support group at SIDS & Kids today, and consequently was a bit of a mess this afternoon. But there were women (and a man) there whose losses were a lot more recent than mine, so it was a positive experience to reflect on the rawness of their grief, and to realise that I really have come a long way in a short space of time.

Archie would have been six months old the day after we get back from Fiji. I’d be getting info about when to start solids for his adjusted age, and watching his gross motor skills develop in leaps and bounds. His curly hair would be doing its thing, and I’d be watching him get fatter and fatter week by week as I breastfed him, and breathed in his scent as he fell asleep in my arms.

Of course, if we had Aubrey too, the fantasy has a few more vomit stained tracksuits and a lot more screaming, but hey, it’s my fantasy…

FFS People!

As I sit here on a Saturday morning, cuddling my boy in his pink t-shirt that he insisted on wearing to bed last night, I came across this. Via Hoyden.

Apparently a woman and her son playing with pink nail polish together (he’s five, his favourite colour is pink), is -exploiting young Beckett to advance the cause of “liberal, transgendered identity politics.” Whatever that is.

I can see this becoming more of an issue when the Squish goes to school. If his favourite colour is still pink in 2011, if I succeed in teaching him non-violence, if he follows both of his parents and becomes a nerd, a kid who is interested in life and everything around him, there will be those who will criticise and seek to undermine.

But I can’t see any way I can homeschool and go to uni…

Lactation Suppression

After Archimedes died, doctors told me they were going to give me a pill to dry up my milk.

I asked for more information about the side effects of the medication (which include seizures, depression and heart problems – in retrospect, I think that I made the right decision, given everything else that was going on!). My file was marked “Refused Treatment”, and I was ignored after that.

Because I am a breastfeeding counsellor, I knew a Lactation Consultant, who reminded me to check the electronic ABA files I have access to. The ABA publish a booklet called “Lactation Suppression”, for when a baby dies or a mother is unable, or chooses not to breastfeed her baby for whatever reason, and needs to suppress lactation. I was able to log in and download a copy of this booklet from my hospital bed, and treat myself, after being punished by the hospital for asking for information.

At the funeral, I asked people for donations instead of flowers. It was my intention to use these donations to buy bulk supplies of the lactation suppression booklet, and to have them on hand in Sydney hospitals for women who found themselves in a similar situation to me. I also talked to my regional rep within ABA, and a few other contacts.

Well, my story got out. And today I was emailed a link to the ABA website where the lactation suppression booklet has been uploaded in full, for anyone to access. I feel a huge sense of relief, and I hope that if there are women out there who need the information, they are able to access it easily, and not have to suffer through what I went through.

My body was able to cry the tears of milk that should have been nourishing my babies. And now I need to find a new “mission” for the generous donations.

A Squishy being squished

As a precaution after the accident last week, both Squish and I went to the physio. At first he was quite scared, but after I showed him a few of the bits of equipment, and opened up the curtains so he could see out, he relaxed a little bit. I told him that the physio was a special kind of doctor that knew all about muscles and joints, and that she wouldn’t do anything scary or painful. I told him that our physio is also a mama, and she knew how to be gentle with little kids.

Now he wants to know when we can go back!

PS. The car (Bernard) is fixed. We had a service done, and the rear brakes were pooped. Which means that it might not have been all my fault after all. But I was driving a car that had dodgy brakes. ARGH!

Crash

Just when I thought the crap was on a wee hiatus….

I had my first ever at fault car accident. Rear ended a lovely woman on her way to work. Thank goodness Inigo is OK (we were on our way to Papa and Grandma’s house when it happened), so both of us saw the GP and the physio yesterday. Inigo seems perfectly fine, I have some whiplash, but because I got it treated early it is much better than I expected. So as well as wasting an entire day of study, Bev and Ted spent the whole day ferrying Inigo and I to appointments, and Ted took our car to the repairers. Bernard is going to cost $1,500 to put right enough that he will be driveable again, but we won’t be fixing to cosmetic damage. Goodness knows how much the other car is going to cost to fix, but I just feel awful for the other woman who was just minding her own business until I crashed into her and turned her life upside down.

A friend recently told me that I am too high needs and that I create drama in my life. She subsequently decided that the cost benefit analysis on our friendship was not in my favour, and terminated the friendship. So I spent a lot of time yesterday really down on myself, and thinking that she was right, that just when things were going well, I sabotaged myself.

But really, it’s only sabotage if I allow it to drag me down, right? If I maintain my positive mental attitude and soldier on, I am still in charge of my own destiny – even if only control how I react to shit, though I can’t control the shit itself.

That is why they call them accidents.

Nice Stuff

The pain of the last few weeks is getting better. I’ve submitted my first assignment, and have only to wait for results. Mark is moments away from booking our fabulous free holiday (Fiji, a few nights in a posh resort, and a few nights in an even posher hotel). Inigo is giving me (and asking for) lots, and lots, and lots of love. He is a little bit worried that we are going to run short of love because we are using so much of it, but I have assured him that the supply is infinite.

So I am going to continue to add little bits of good stuff to the blog to keep posting something, anything, that isn’t maudlin and depressing.

Here are a few things I came across today that lifted my mood a little, so I thought I would share.

Via Sally, an article about a lace knitting Master. Nothing earth shattering, but lovely.

Nature thrives in Chernobyl. Awesome. Even though we have irradiated the whole area, just the fact that we have left the area alone for so long has meant that the flora and fauna are thriving, despite the radiation.

Baby Lily (Maree’s new baby, she was due the day after Archie and Aubrey were due) slept in my arms for over an hour today. I think she likes me.

I’m doing a naming ceremony for a friends baby in a few weeks, and I finally got the draft ceremony completed. And I have a wedding coming up in September!

Oh, and I found out that next year I can do a subject called “Psychology for Parents” (or something like that), which sounds really interesting!

And my last “thing” is about my hair – it’s been falling out drastically for about 6 weeks now. My hairline has noticeably receded, and I feel like my hair has reduced in volume by about 50%. You can also see my scalp where before my hair used to be very thick. I know some hairloss is normal after pregnancy, but this is getting to the point where it’s not normal. I spoke to a lactation consultant who said that my loss is beyond what is normal after a pregnancy, and is probably related to the stress and shock of what I have been through. This makes sense, as my fingernails also have a noticeable ridge… Anyway, that all sounds crappy, but the GOOD news is that my hair will probably grow back.

I bloody well hope so, I’d look crap as a baldy.

I’ve decided to stick with uni

I’ve spent a bit of time thinking about how I can connect better with the kid, so he doesn’t feel like my sadness is overwhelming for him. And frankly, dropping out of uni isn’t the answer. I think that the key to being less sad around the kid is actually being less sad. And actually achieving something with my life that isn’t about doing something for Inigo (not that that isn’t fulfilling 😉 ) is ultimately going to be the fastest ride out of sadville.

I’ve also connected with another mum who lost a baby at 23 weeks. She is a few years further down the road than I am, so I am really interested in both her experiences of loss and how she survived, but also in how her elder child is dealing with things. She sent me an email telling me that my crazy “why not do a psychology degree” behaviour is actually pretty typical in her experience. She said that in her support group, a lot of the mums did something a bit crazy within about 4 months of losing their babies. Some moved interstate or overseas, some left marriages, some began to study, or quit study if they were already enrolled. She tried to cut all her hair off and move interstate, but was talked down by a kind hairdresser. So what I am doing isn’t abnormal, or strange for those of us “in the club”, it just looks quite mental from the outside. I can live with that.

Inigo is an awesome kid (who apparently prefers his name to be written in a serifed font), and I suppose there are just going to be more and more times when he outsmarts me. So the sooner I get that psych degree (with a major in child development!), the better.

Tomorrow I am off to the ABA conference, where I hope to see Dr James McKenna (click the link then scroll down to see his theory about limbic regulation, fascinating) speak about co-sleeping, and all sorts of other wonderful insights about boobs and how to use them. And then Thursday with the kid, then Friday to finish my essay for Environmental Peace (I am doing salinity in the Murray Darling Basin), the weekend to play with the kid and do a final draft of my essay, ready to submit on Sunday night.

And by then, of course, this shitty, shitty fortnight will be behind me, and I will be looking forward to my first High Distinction. Onwards and upwards!

Another conversation

Miriam, come here!

Mama is right here baby, what do you need.

No mama, I want Miriam, go away.

What is wrong baby?

I don’t want you to be my mama. I want a mama that isn’t sad all the time.

———————————————————————————

And right there, I wanted to die. I thought that I wasn’t going to be able to draw another breath into my body. How can I recover from that, repair my relationship with the most important person in the world? I thought I was doing a great job of staying positive, and upbeat, and jolly. I thought I was succeeding in being a good mama, despite my huge sadness.

But no, I suck. So now I am wondering if I need to give up uni and spend more time with my baby, despite the fact that uni has been one thing that I have really been enjoying. Should I quit and try to be more focussed on Inigo, or should I keep going and hope that it makes me happier so that I am more fun to be around in the long run?

We had a long talk in the car on the way home, and he assures me that tomorrow, when he wakes up from a big sleep and feels better, he will ask me to be his mama again. I hope so. Otherwise, mama won’t know how to keep breathing.

A conversation in the car

Mama, our babies died.

Yes darling, they both died.

But I wanted to bring them home with us. I wanted to have my baby brothers.

Me too baby.

I miss them, I want my brothers. Why did they die?

I miss them too – and we did everything we could to keep them with us. Sometimes, if you try really, really hard, you can change the outcomes. But sometimes, it doesn’t matter how hard you try, how hard you work, or how hard you hope, some things just don’t work out the way you want them to.

And they just died.

Yes bubbaloo. They died. And we’re very sad.

But I want my brothers. I want my brothers.

___________________________________________________________________

Just when you think things are going well, it all turns to shit. I am assured by my gorgeous grief counsellor that I am handling Inigo’s questions well, but it kills me to have to be so calm and considered, when all I want to do is sob and scream, and rage. But I don’t, because my baby needs me to be a grown up. And that’s a choice.