Introducing Paige

Paige

She's 52cm, 3.345kg at birth, probably lots more now, since i'm actually retiring some of her new born clothes. She sleeps like an angel, feeds like a barracuda, coos a lot and hardly cries, unless I've delayed her feeding by a substantial amount of time. She's the spitting image of Maeve when Maeve was born. in other words, once again, my progeny looks exactly like her daddy. She is exactly as we prayed for and we're still in shock that God humoured us and answered our prayers to the T!

As for pregnancy and delivery and the afterwards bit, lets say I'm done for now (although you may want to ask me again in a couple of years when amnesia and old age have set in). I've clearly forgotten just how painful everything is when I asked God to give me another little miracle...and its all rushing back in triple speed. Thank God the bleeding nipples have healed thanks to Paige's ability to drink expressed breastmilk from the bottle (which gave my poor abused boobs a break to heal), and the C wound wasn't any more painful than i remembered, although i really don't want to be cut up again. Funnily enough, my bladder hurts. Why this is so is anyone's guess and i hope its not because they left a pair of scissors or something in me. i hope its just one of those things when you do an operation. some part has to hurt.

The good thing is I've got a confinement nanny this time round, which really makes me the queen bee. it is heaven to be able to pass Paige to her when I'm done nursing at night. no need to change diapers, no need to wash and sterilise the pump, no need to cook or even make my own breakfast...how wonderful is that! So while I'm paying good money for queen bee status, I might as well really just laze in bed with good and easy reads. I'm almost done with the entire collection of jodi picoult paperbacks and now looking for another author whose books i can devour by collection. The wonderful thing about this confinement nanny is she also turned out to be exactly what we prayed for, that is, 7 years experience, speaks english, pretty modern, good sense of humour. We knew we had a match when the agency introduced her as Christine. we all fell in love with her when she smiled and showed her dimples and starting chatting nineteen to the dozen. Even in small things, God is faithful and He honours our prayer requests, no matter how trivial it sounds.

As for Maeve, she's reached almost saint status by the amount of love, care and thoughtfulness she's been showing. I expected a little acting up, a little jealousy or attention-seeking behaviour, which is all natural, but amazingly, zilch. she's been nothing but wonderfully positive (can anyone beat her comment at the hospital, "my sister is the most beautiful girl in the whole world". "more than you?" someone asked in jest. "of course! she's more beautiful!" so says the older one, beaming with pride.), very caring towards me ("mummy, you need to rest in bed because of your operation", "finish up all this red date tea mummy, its good for you") and a real delight in every way.

The last days

These are the last days. 5 more days before I meet my 2nd little darling. From her scans, I know she's going to be bigger than Maeve at birth, chubbier, with chipmunk like cheeks and pouty lips. I can't wait to meet her, and her big sis is getting mighty impatient. Thankfully, Maeve has stopped demanding to perform a C section on me! (for a whole month, she would come at me with her plastic knife and ask permission to cut my tummy to take Paige out!) 5 more days of rest, of long chats with hubby, of painfree non-leaking boobs. Soon, the house will be a whirlwind of activities, of feeding, of diaper changing (thank goodness I have to only deal with one bum now, since Maeve trained herself off her nighttime diaper some weeks ago..I can't imagine having to do double diaper duty!), and strangely, I'm looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to meeting my 2nd little miracle, the one that God surprised us with, the one that we pray God will use mightily for His service. Paige, I'll see you really soon!

Hormones and emotions

Today was a day with great emotions unleashed, that is, I cried 3 times. I think the last time I did something as dramatic as this was when I was in actual pain in hospital. I wasn't in pain today though, at least not the physical kind. It started in the morning when an old neighbour asked me (for the 3rd time) if I'm expecting a boy. I told her no, it was a girl, and she had the audacity to console me, saying it was all fate, that I could try again! I mustered up all graciousness in me to tell her thank you, but both hubby and I prefer daughters and that daughters tend to be closer to their parents when they grow up. She looked at me with great pity and said (I can't believe this woman), well, its all fated, I'm still young, I can still try for a son!!! Is this woman for real??!! This time, given we were botht trapped for a while in the lift, I became rather unchristian. I told her that sons won't care so much about their parents the way daughters would and most would take a daughter anytime. Daughters won't dump their children on their parents the whole week and turn up only for visits. (Which is exactly the plight of this grandmother who looks after her grandson all day, all night, all weekday, all weekend). I wasn't proud of myself, but the grace took a backseat to vindictiveness. Of course, i went home to cry. Not only because of her callous words, but also the callousness of every single aunty I've encountered from the lift to the supermarket who all give me looks of pity and words of consolation when I tell them I'm expecting a baby girl, AND I've got an older girl. What is wrong with these women?? Old men are not like that. If women discriminate against their own kind, what hope do we have in the world?

The 2nd instance happened when my preschooler came home from school and for reasons only known to the 3 year old set, started ranting and raving at me and even holding up a pebble and aiming it at me. I don't even know or remember what caused the fury,except that she was on the war path. My usual reaction would be to calmly tell her the behaviour was unacceptable and she would stay in the corner till she was prepared to apologise for that bit of nonsense. Well, I did put her in the corner, but I also burst into tears, heartbroken that she behaved in such a fashion. She was shocked and I think a little frightened, which caused an outpouring of apology and genuine contriteness, and of course, a scurrying around for tissues and whatever was needed to make mummy less sad. In the end my little one decided that the best course of action was to climb into my lap and cry with me. After which we both felt much better!

Finally, at night, a call came that threw my plans out of whack. I was REALLY angry and due to the poor planning of this person, everyone else was inconvenienced. I did what my daughter did earlier on, I threw a tantrum. I hurled angry accusations at hubby for not handling the situation better and being firm. Of course, the angrier I got, the greater chance of those tears being unleashed again. Once again, angry tears sprouted as I growled, petulant and spoilt. Hubby, already weary and beyond exhausted asked me calmly if I would like him to call said person to scold her. Believe it or not, I actually said yes! So he called and calmly settled the matter ( at least for today, as said person can sing a different tune again tomorrow). There is a part of me that says, think, there is a solution, just logically think. However, the logic bit appears to be off duty today and the emotional part is handling the control tower. So intead of giving way to another crying bout, I've decided to unleash those runaway emotions in this entry. Typing helps me keep my cool. You can't reflect when you are awashed with emotion.

I guess this is probably due to the crazy pregnancy hormones. I've never had this while pregnant with Maeve, but I hear it is common in the 1st and 3rd trimester. I guess this season too is fleeting and will pass, hopefully sooner than later, before more people get to witness this other side of me that very few, if ever, see.

another dress

The wonderful thing about 3 year olds is that they are willing to wear just about anything you make, so I'm capitalising on it now! I'm sure give a couple of years, she'll not want to be caught dead in a home made dress! So introducing my little model....the dresses are made from grandma's discarded pillowcases!

Nesting

I've suddenly gotten a spurt of energy and must channel it somewhere, so I decided to do the convent girl thing. I started sewing! With a machine that went bust a few years ago, churning out too many costumes for a whacky teacher's day musical, I have only my good ol hands to do the job. The inspiration came as I couldn't find a chinese new year dress that i liked enough to buy for Maeve, so decided to make one.



While on a roll, I decided Paige deserved something too, so made her a cutsey top using a hand me down singlet. And while at it, made Maeve a matching bag too! Something to put her Ang Pows!

9 months

The thing with carrying a larger foetus is one gets beached a little earlier. When carrying Maeve, i worked till 38 weeks or something like that and was runnning up and down stairs, sitting on floors in the studio and bouncing back up. Now with a rather large Paige, my earlier gymnastics have been curtailed very early (or maybe its just age catching up) and at 35 weeks, i find myself unable to do the simplest things without feeling like I've run a marathon. I can't get up from the floor easily (which means no jigsaws with Maeve), i can't play dress-up and run around the house without keeling over, i can't even shower my little one as i can't bend very well...which hence makes my helper playmate extraodinaire and me, the useless beached whale stuck to the sofa. Thankfully, my little darling has been taking it in her stride with no accusations of "mummy can't do anything" but rather, with sensible instructions of "mummy, put your legs up".

I'm grateful for the sweet and understanding little girl my baby has become. While I nest and buzz about putting baby things to wash, packing tiny booties and mitts, sewing new pillow cases, my grown up 3 yr old has been helping around the house, changing toilet rolls when necessary, putting clothes to wash, setting the table every meal and just yesterday, helping me to clean up the cot and change table without prompting. I only hope and pray that she continues to be the angel she is now and not regress when Paige arrives (as I've heard older siblings tend to do).