In the morning we cuddle, I put her tiny body onto mine and she starts pulling my face with her little hands, shrieking with excitement. The sun is dripping in through the tomato plants in the kitchen window, its long arms reaching the couch. My feet are cold and so are her hands, there’s fall in the air.
When she’s sleeping (finally she accepted the pacifier), all I want to do is read. Or write. Throughout the day my head is full of stories, but when faced with a white page, my brain is blank. The screen is staring back at me.
“Why do you keep posting all these details on motherhood on fb? Do you really think people care?” To tell you the truth, the response is secondary. I mean sure, it’s nice if people can relate, not so nice when others write things belonging to a totally different era and you can sense the scorn of others again, for why did she have to wait until 40s to have a baby, “other people have 20 years old children already”, as someone told my mom.
But with all the risks of oversharing, writing is cathartic for me, it’s always been like that. And the funny little stories are a coping mechanism with days that are pretty much alike, too little sleep and the realization that, as much as I’ve always wanted a child, this child is here to stay. I mean forever. Good God in heaven! (Don’t get me wrong, I feel blessed every single day!) I remember this feeling when I got a cat- they live for 10-12 years?! And then another and then Sam- what, will I always be a dog-owner, for as long as he lives? I would think it’s the responsibility of it that sometimes feels overwhelming, nothing else.
Contrary to many of my friends’ experience, I managed to read quite a lot of books during my maternity leave. Mostly because she sleeps so lightly and I don’t want to wake her up. But also since I need some me-time and folding bed linen can be done when she’s playing next to me. 😉 And reading is supposed to lead to writing… haha!
I only have 4 weeks left, before daddy takes over. And then 6 more weeks from February. I can’t wait to talk about other things than the baby. To be able to get a massage or go to the hairdresser without needing a baby sitter (not that I have had a baby-sitter!) To the string of Sundays that my freelance life combined with paternity leave I’m hoping will feel like.
Until then, I have to go to the veterinary with Madde in a pram and Sam in a leash. I’ve been dreading it since last week. Wish me luck!
So I got a call from a friend just after I wrote the last entry and she told me she’d laughed so hard and asked me if I’d had Madde all over again had I known it was this hard- or maybe I interpreted her question that way, since I’m even more easily offended these days than usual- haha. And so I thought I should clear up any misunderstandings by writing a bit more about the good stuff this time.
First, I just needed to get the other things off my chest. The things you never talk about, the difficult and embarrassing feelings, the shame, the guilt. I hate pretending and smoothing things over, although I’m a badass at that, too, people with my background tend to be. (Eastern Europeans who grew up with their grandma and spent their whole life begging for other people to love them.)
But now that I did all that, I’ll tell you more about the amazing feeling it is to be a mom. Because even if it never stops, even though she’s in bed and you still think you can hear her cry, even though you go to her room to check up on her and end up waking her up and restarting the whole shebang of her trying to lull herself to sleep, even when you’re so tired you hang up half of the laundry just to discover the other half still wet on the table the day after, motherhood is the best feeling ever! Nothing can even come close to having borne a human being inside you (even though I hated being pregnant most of the time and I’d never do it again!), pressed her out of you (the most painful thing there ever was, even with an epidural!), held her in your arms, fed her, soothed her, stroked her skin, smelled her breath.
At night, she wakes up shivering from hunger and she eats with her eyes closed, while we kiss her cheek or stroke her hair. When she had fever from the vaccine, she would cling to us like a bird with a broken wing, save me, do something, make me better. (That’s when the picture is from, she’d been crying for 4 hours straight.) I’ve never had that before. I mean sure, I’ve had pets as long as I can remember and I’ve loved them to death, but it’s not the same. I used to get upset when people said you can’t compare a dog with a child, but it’s true. Sure, you can love the dog to the moon and back (and I do!), buy him all the fancy toys and the best beef jerky and check on him at night to see if he’s still breathing, hold him in your arms when the fireworks or storms are raging outside, but it’s still not the same as having your own baby. Or anyone’s baby, for that matter. (For many years I considered both adoption or foster parenting, but I’m glad I didn’t have to go through all that paper hell, in the end. Plus it’s so much fun to see yourself or your partner in the baby, I have to admit that!)
In the morning, she wakes up happy and wants to play. You could say it’s her job. It’s so funny to see how dedicated she is to discovering the world! Back and forth, from one toy to another, touching, tasting everything, turning around to see what I’m doing- usually I’m boiling feeding bottles, making milk or brewing coffee- haha.
During the day we play, we go out for walks with the pram, we meet friends, sometimes we visit dad at the office, we sit in the shade and clap our hands, we read books with furry animals you can touch. And we play music, all kinds of baby music- from Brahms to silly tunes I never saw myself listening to, let alone humming! 😉 haha!
When she sleeps, I usually research things she needs and order them online or agree to meet with people selling used baby stuff. A baby has all sorts of expensive needs (haha) and the maternity leave payment is around half the money I used to make before. No, not complaining, just doing my best to keep everybody happy, including mommy. ‘Cause mommy loves shopping and in 5 months she’s just been on one “shopping spree”, at Fretex (Salvation Army Shop)! haha! Don’t let yourself be fooled, I chose silk and designer wear there, too! haha! They have pretty amazing stuff if you’re in the mood for searching, which I can be once in a blue moon, if money is tight. 😉
This corona shit messed up our plans of going to Romania and France to show Madeleine to our families. It’s been lonely to raise a child alone, without anybody offering to even take her out for a stroll. Friends tell me the culture is different here, that people are afraid to offer, they’re afraid they might be imposing, that I should be the one asking for help. But I’m different, too, not only culturally different, but on account of my being so messed up, I’d rather cut people off than ask them for a favor, because the fear of being rejected is greater than anything else. And then there’s my pride. I’d rather die than admit to needing help. 😦
My mother was supposed to come for a month and help us out a bit, like minding the baby a couple of hours here and there, but she tripped on a stool and fell and she’s been recovering slowly for the past week. I really hope she didn’t break anything, they’ve been reticent to go to the doctor’s on account of Covid, but she’s having a scan on Monday. So what can I say, not only I don’t have a lot to look forward to in terms of baby sitting, but I worry about her, too. 😦
But I’m sure it’ll get easier. I’ve just bought baby oat meal and she seemed to like it. This might mean she’s going to be fuller and sleep better at night and God knows that would come in handy. Until then, I’m off to play with her on the mat. She seems to be getting bored of entertaining herself.
So what can I say, besides long time, no see, because time has become a precious commodity and my thoughts feel scattered all over the place, irrelevant or just boring. Most of the time I worry about Madeleine’s sleeping pattern, get annoyed at the fact that she’s discovering her voice-with sheer shrieking all day as a result- and wonder if I’ll ever get the feeling of being myself back. But today we’re celebrating the nothing-less-of-a-miracle called Madde and I’ll be rewarding myself with the long overdue personal space by going out for drinks with a couple of girl friends. (Bring it on, bitches!)
I’ve been meaning to write a stripped down honest review of motherhood for so long, I don’t even know where to start. For 5 months now I’ve been deliriously happy, tired as f*, angry as never before, irrational, apprehensive, anxiety-ridden, disengaged in the world and hateful- towards corona, people who don’t give a damn about my pram, scooters and men, in general.
I’ll start with my body. Good old body that has served me for 40 years and used to do a pretty good job. Suddenly it didn’t feel like mine any more. For the longest time, it was like living in a nightmare. Although I’d only gained 8-9 kg during pregnancy, which I lost right away, the irregular meals and the corona baking transformed my belly into a snail-looking flab. I was so disgusted every time I took a shower, I started eating cottage cheese for breakfast and cutting down on the 10 pm ice-cream bowl. Slowly (and painfully haha), I’m starting to resemble myself again. A pale version of myself, but still.
Then you have the boobs! First, you can’t believe your luck, when the milk is filling them, you look like Pamela Anderson before she removed her silicon. Then, after only one week of trying to breastfeed, they started looking like empty shells. Not to mention they were constantly leaking and they hurt so bad I felt like cutting them off altogether. The doctor didn’t give me medicine and so I had to tie them up with a scarf and I’d sleep like that for 2 weeks. I would stare at them in the mirror, sickened and feeling like covering them up. All of a sudden I was 17 again, powerless and shamed by my own body. Somehow, they seem to have mended themselves, too, in the course of these months. Phew! (I was seriously considering a lift.)
But the worst humiliation was peeing myself every time I sneezed (I still do!), laughed or even turned on the tap. A couple of times it was so bad F fetched a wet wipe and cleaned me up. One night I was walking Sam, I saw a rat and got so startled I peed my pants. Really peed, not just a little. I came home wet and shameful and hid in the bathroom until I convinced myself it’s not my fault.
And that’s just the body. The lack of sleep is an altogether new story. Simply excruciating. Although you somehow get by, not so much by getting used to it, but rather by knowing you don’t have a choice and that it’s not going to last forever, sleep deprivation makes you ruthless. I could scream to people all day long- bus drivers for not caring to lower the floor, so I can get on board with the pram, F for not choosing his words carefully, older ladies for telling me how much they enjoyed being at home with their babies and making me feel like a horrible person because I sometimes get bored. Because let’s face it- if you’ve been your own person for 40 years, are used to napping during day time just because you can, both your work and your social life are that of a busy bee, staying at home with a baby and tending to its needs all day long can be challenging. First, the change is pretty drastic: Madeleine’s first two months were those of a monkey baby, she only wanted to be on top of me. She slept on my chest and my belly, I carried her around in a baby wrap and the minute I put her down she’d wake up screaming. I could barely shower, I went to the loo with her in the baby wrap, I cooked with her sleeping in the baby wrap, I walked Sam with her in the baby wrap. At 6-7 pm I would wait for F to come back from work so eagerly that, when she didn’t want to be held by him, I’d burst into tears. On a couple of occasions, I threw myself on the floor and sobbed. He was so puzzled that instead of giving me a hug, he started poking me- hey, what’s up with the attitude?
At the other end of the scales, she’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever see. She gives purpose to our life and now we know what we’d be missing if we didn’t have her. She wakes up smiling and although it’s wayyyy too early (somewhere between 4 and 6!), she brightens up our day. When she takes my face in her tiny hands, my fear melts and so does my pain. I still can’t get over the fact that I’m somebody’s mom and that she needs me and loves me more than anyone else in the world. It’s such a blessing. And she’s such a happy baby. No colic, no colds, no fuss.
We’re reading books and we’re singing songs and all the things I thought would be boring, until it’s about her and it’s not boring anymore. Now she turns from her back to her stomach and back and she sometimes screams for help because she rolled on a toy or her own hand. So I sit myself on a sheep’s skin beside her mat and I tend to her needs from there.
As for the personal space, she goes to bed somewhere between 6 and 8pm. So until we fall asleep on the couch, there’s “plenty” of time to gather oneself. I usually don’t know what to do first- cook, eat, have a long shower, have a beer, water the plants, be. When we have Sam, I walk him and ring my mom. When we don’t, I read a couple of pages. Most days I want to do so much I end up “wasting my time texting”.
Almost 10:30 am, need to get ready to hit the city, otherwise we’ll drive each other nuts at home. You see, when I walk her in the pram, she sleeps most of the time! Win-win!
On account of this stupid virus and since Madde is so little, we decided not to go anywhere this summer. Instead, we’ve been waiting for the sun to come back and although the hot days of June seem to be gone for now, we’ve done our best with the Scandinavian temperatures of 18-21 degrees. We’ve been meeting friends for coffee or beer, roaming the woods with Sam and Madde (in a pram!) or cooking a better meal at home. And is there anything more summerly than a bottle of bubbles? Sometimes a label catches my eye and this is how we ended up with this cremant– it tasted like unripe apples and the sea. Continue reading →
Although she’s had ten days of growth spurt when she woke up every other hour at night for milk and the heat prevented her from sleeping well during the day to the point where I felt I had nothing more to give, I still have to pinch myself every time I see her face- I’m a mother! The thing that others take for granted has been such a lifelong dream for me and what do you know, I’ve got the “café baby” I’ve always wanted! At least for now. What I meant to say is that she’s usually in a good mood and puts up with all my socializing without complaints.
Hi again! Long time, no see, I hope you’re all doing well! Today I feel like writing, so I’ll grant you my thoughts. 😉
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been in and out of a state of existential anxiety. The one that has to do with my choices in life, my studies and my career. Or the lack of the latter, the arbitrariness of it all, the fact that working as an interpreter is only a way of making money, that it doesn’t lead anywhere. Not that I need a fancy title and an office, but it would be nice to get some acknowledgement. It is an important work and a difficult one, too and the unpredictability of it is both a burden and a blessing. I know I’ve been writing this stuff for the past 6 years, but bear with me. Now it feels different on account of the Corona pandemic and Madeleine. I feel I need to “get my shit together” once and for all.
Yesterday we had some guests over for lunch, secretly hoping that our girls would play together, but instead they napped, and so I made some minestrone soup and these buns to go with. I would have made the garlic buns, but on account of an intolerance I had to be more creative. These babies I found on trines matblogg and we all liked them so much I decided to make them again today. The original version is no knead, but then you have to have them rise overnight, but I added more yeast and baked them the same day.
How did I live for almost 40 years without tasting brunsviger?! So delicious and so easy to “whip” together!
You see, our little girl turned 2 months yesterday and although it was a crappy day (I didn’t get enough sleep and was cranky as hell, Sam had the runs and so on), I did manage to bake a cake, mostly to ease the pain and take my mind off of things- haha. The fact that I could eat it outside in the sun with a glass of Cremant de Jura helped a lot. In the picture you see the cake before it hit the oven, I didn’t have the patience to wait for it to bake in case the baby should wake up. You’ll have to trust me when I say it looked like a pretty focaccia. ❤