I have a friend I've known for a long time. I chatted with her by Facebook this morning.
She has a theory: everyone in life is either Ernie or Bert. Ernies need Berts and Berts need Ernies. Two Ernies can be friends but not two Berts. I declared that my husband and I are two Berts (this may explain alot about our marriage).
She stated I couldn't possibly be a Bert. she pointed out some Ernie things i had told her about. For example, a fantastic and hilaious telephone conversation I had with a bored IRS tax guy on a Friday night (who else but a Bert woudl call the IRS on a Friday night? Even the IRS guy was making fun of me for having no life....But then, only an Ernie would have tons of fun talking to an IRS guy).
I remembered I was teaching Kai to catch fish by calling "HEEEEEERRRRRE Fishy Fishy Fishy!" and we used to have dozens of rubber duckies in our bathtub in Fairfax. Kai and I (OK lets be honest...I...) love them.
I postulated that perhaps i was a 1/2 Ernie: the Berts in life, like my husband, bring out the Bert in me while the Ernies bring out the Ernie in me.
We contemplated what color that would make me. she suggested Oopma Looma but i prefered tangerine, because I am truly more yellow than Oompa Loompa. She perceives me as being far more Ernie than I see myself.
She suggested I shoudl find some Ernies to be friends with, because too much of Bert isn't a good thing for me.
And that is why we have been friends for over a decade.
Does anyone else out there buy into the Ernie and bert theory? what are you?
I wish I coudl make a Johari Ernie and Bert Window for myself. What percentage of me is Ernie and what percent Bert?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Some folks lives roll easy.
This weekend Kai and I played with and got to know some expats in our area.
First I went to a really great birthday party. As far as the party itself, it was the typical kind of kids-and-toys-and-food everywhere kind of affair, complete with pinata full of goodies Kai rarely gets, cake and such. The kids ages ranged from baby to 8 or 9. it couldn't have been a more typicval party from that point of view. what made it great was the fact i actually liked...really liked...the other moms there. When forced to be in a room full of women, i generally only find one I like and stuff the rest. Although I never had a hard time getting along with guys growing up, women are a whole different story. Generally, they irritate me to no end.
But I actually honestly liked every woman I met at the party! this was a very unusual expereince for me and I was really quite happy. I had planned to get in and get out as soon as possible. Mabo was sick, I was in an unexplicably poor mood, and the thought of being at a party full of domineering and/or catty helicopter mothers didn't thrill me.
I know it was unfair of me to think about people I didn't even know that way, but women, often, are catty, and when it comes to thier kids, can become truly obnoxious. Not these ladies! I was so relieved and felt totally comfortable.
The other thing that happened is that one of the women invited Kai and I to a play date the next day. We learned a little more about each other and she taught me alot about things she had learned during her four years living in my neighborhood. What a great teacher and a great example. Her husband is also a stay at home dad, and it's possible he may be a source of comraderie for my husband, too. They seemed like a nice team too. She has fantastic supportive in laws, her parents live downstairs, she owns multiple pieces of property, and has money for kindergarden, a live in nanny, a kind and supportive stay at home hubby...she has support systems on top of support systems. And her school sounds pretty fun and cool.
Her expereince is so different from mine here. Although she lives literally not even a block away from me, we are living in such different worlds.
She made me think of a Paul Simon song. It's been runniung through my head all day. (As anyone who knows me knows, i know a Paul Simon song for every occasion. he really is such a genious.)
Some folks' lives roll easy as a breeze
Drifting through a summer night
Heading for a sunny day
But most folks' lives, they stumble
Lord they fall
Through no fault of their own
Most folks never catch their stars
And here I am, Lord
I'm knocking at your place of business
I know I ain't got no business here
But you said If I ever got so low
I was busted,
You could be trusted
Some folks' lives roll easy
Some folks' lives never roll at all
They just fall
They just fall
Some folks' lives
Its amazing all the kinds of lives people have. I'm not saying I have a terrible life at all, or that i feel i won't reach my star or am "falling" or anything. Actually, if i were to compare the song's falling people to people I know, I woud say my mother fits the bill best. I know, from her, what's it's like to feel low and busted, and my life now is not like that at all!
And yet, my life most certainly doesn't roll easy either. I like my life, and I'm certainly not afraid of hard work, but still, I wonder how I can get a life that rolls easy?
First I went to a really great birthday party. As far as the party itself, it was the typical kind of kids-and-toys-and-food everywhere kind of affair, complete with pinata full of goodies Kai rarely gets, cake and such. The kids ages ranged from baby to 8 or 9. it couldn't have been a more typicval party from that point of view. what made it great was the fact i actually liked...really liked...the other moms there. When forced to be in a room full of women, i generally only find one I like and stuff the rest. Although I never had a hard time getting along with guys growing up, women are a whole different story. Generally, they irritate me to no end.
But I actually honestly liked every woman I met at the party! this was a very unusual expereince for me and I was really quite happy. I had planned to get in and get out as soon as possible. Mabo was sick, I was in an unexplicably poor mood, and the thought of being at a party full of domineering and/or catty helicopter mothers didn't thrill me.
I know it was unfair of me to think about people I didn't even know that way, but women, often, are catty, and when it comes to thier kids, can become truly obnoxious. Not these ladies! I was so relieved and felt totally comfortable.
The other thing that happened is that one of the women invited Kai and I to a play date the next day. We learned a little more about each other and she taught me alot about things she had learned during her four years living in my neighborhood. What a great teacher and a great example. Her husband is also a stay at home dad, and it's possible he may be a source of comraderie for my husband, too. They seemed like a nice team too. She has fantastic supportive in laws, her parents live downstairs, she owns multiple pieces of property, and has money for kindergarden, a live in nanny, a kind and supportive stay at home hubby...she has support systems on top of support systems. And her school sounds pretty fun and cool.
Her expereince is so different from mine here. Although she lives literally not even a block away from me, we are living in such different worlds.
She made me think of a Paul Simon song. It's been runniung through my head all day. (As anyone who knows me knows, i know a Paul Simon song for every occasion. he really is such a genious.)
Some folks' lives roll easy as a breeze
Drifting through a summer night
Heading for a sunny day
But most folks' lives, they stumble
Lord they fall
Through no fault of their own
Most folks never catch their stars
And here I am, Lord
I'm knocking at your place of business
I know I ain't got no business here
But you said If I ever got so low
I was busted,
You could be trusted
Some folks' lives roll easy
Some folks' lives never roll at all
They just fall
They just fall
Some folks' lives
Its amazing all the kinds of lives people have. I'm not saying I have a terrible life at all, or that i feel i won't reach my star or am "falling" or anything. Actually, if i were to compare the song's falling people to people I know, I woud say my mother fits the bill best. I know, from her, what's it's like to feel low and busted, and my life now is not like that at all!
And yet, my life most certainly doesn't roll easy either. I like my life, and I'm certainly not afraid of hard work, but still, I wonder how I can get a life that rolls easy?
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thanksgiving every day!
About 20 years ago, the folks up at UC Berkeley got bored studying illness and psychopathy and started doing research on a field up until then only one person had ever studied: Why people are NOT mentally ill. What brings them joy and fulfillment and happiness?
20 years later, UC Berkeley now have a whole department devoted to The Greater Good project an the research into finding what makes people happy. What they found was that that absolutle key, regardless of the circumstances of the individual, was gratitude. Without gratitude, there cannot be sustainable meaningful joy and happiness.
Maybe that's why I love Thanksgiving so much: I alwys felt happier on that day than any other holiday. It was probably because that was the only time I made any conscious effort to be thankful for what I had instead of focusing on what I didn't have.
And I always thought it was the yummy turkey making me happy!
As a child, it was hard to feel grateful on a daily basis. What coudl i say? " I'm grateful that half my trailer still has electricity," or "I'm grateful I at least have runnning water 9 months out of the year" or I'm gratful the crack in my TV only elctrocutes me occasionaly," or "I'm grateful the bullies didn't actually kill me yet". But on Thanksgiving, I felt deeply grateful that someone, usually one of my aunts, woudl cook up a feast and invite me and my mother to eat it up, along with the hordes of boys (AKA cousins) that whooped in and out of the house at intervals. And i was grateful they gave us the leftovers so I coudl have turkey the next day too.
And their houses were always very warm and cozy, and I was grateful for that, because heat was hard to come by in my hunk of tin. And my typically depressed mother was smiling and joking, and kept smiling and joking for at least a few hours after we left, whcih was a pleasant and welcomed change. And my grandparents stopped bickering for just one day, and trying to drag me into their endless hateful wars, and I was deeply grateful for that as well. Occasionally, my cousins even let me use their Game Boy, whcih was a rare treat. Plus, I didn't hav eto go to school for two whole days!!! :-)
So I was just plum full of gratitude on Thanksgiving. I never felt happier any other time of the year than Thanksgiving. It is the single most important holiday to me, and the only one I insisted my husband ever partake in. it was also the only time my husband ever met my mother in person before she died. It is the most precious memory I have, with my uncle and aunt and cousins (and cousins kids) and grandmother and mother all stuffed into my grandmother's kitchen and my aunt trying to teach me how to cook a turkey and it was a whirl of fun and noise, just like the old days. Looking back at the pictures, we all have a bit of a haunted look, because we were sure Mom was going to die at any moment, but she hung on through the entire season, and i couldn't have been happier with all the people I loved in the world all in one place for the first, and only, time.
UC Berkleey recommends that to be happier, we need to be grateful every day for all the little joys and things that are good in our lives, and recommend we keep a journal to record those days to "arm" ourselves when things aren't going well.
So from this day forward, i will take time, every day, to find at least three things I am grateful for and try to record them in a journal (or blog when i have time). Because, really, I can't imagine how great it would be to feel like every day is Thanksgiving!
20 years later, UC Berkeley now have a whole department devoted to The Greater Good project an the research into finding what makes people happy. What they found was that that absolutle key, regardless of the circumstances of the individual, was gratitude. Without gratitude, there cannot be sustainable meaningful joy and happiness.
Maybe that's why I love Thanksgiving so much: I alwys felt happier on that day than any other holiday. It was probably because that was the only time I made any conscious effort to be thankful for what I had instead of focusing on what I didn't have.
And I always thought it was the yummy turkey making me happy!
As a child, it was hard to feel grateful on a daily basis. What coudl i say? " I'm grateful that half my trailer still has electricity," or "I'm grateful I at least have runnning water 9 months out of the year" or I'm gratful the crack in my TV only elctrocutes me occasionaly," or "I'm grateful the bullies didn't actually kill me yet". But on Thanksgiving, I felt deeply grateful that someone, usually one of my aunts, woudl cook up a feast and invite me and my mother to eat it up, along with the hordes of boys (AKA cousins) that whooped in and out of the house at intervals. And i was grateful they gave us the leftovers so I coudl have turkey the next day too.
And their houses were always very warm and cozy, and I was grateful for that, because heat was hard to come by in my hunk of tin. And my typically depressed mother was smiling and joking, and kept smiling and joking for at least a few hours after we left, whcih was a pleasant and welcomed change. And my grandparents stopped bickering for just one day, and trying to drag me into their endless hateful wars, and I was deeply grateful for that as well. Occasionally, my cousins even let me use their Game Boy, whcih was a rare treat. Plus, I didn't hav eto go to school for two whole days!!! :-)
So I was just plum full of gratitude on Thanksgiving. I never felt happier any other time of the year than Thanksgiving. It is the single most important holiday to me, and the only one I insisted my husband ever partake in. it was also the only time my husband ever met my mother in person before she died. It is the most precious memory I have, with my uncle and aunt and cousins (and cousins kids) and grandmother and mother all stuffed into my grandmother's kitchen and my aunt trying to teach me how to cook a turkey and it was a whirl of fun and noise, just like the old days. Looking back at the pictures, we all have a bit of a haunted look, because we were sure Mom was going to die at any moment, but she hung on through the entire season, and i couldn't have been happier with all the people I loved in the world all in one place for the first, and only, time.
UC Berkleey recommends that to be happier, we need to be grateful every day for all the little joys and things that are good in our lives, and recommend we keep a journal to record those days to "arm" ourselves when things aren't going well.
So from this day forward, i will take time, every day, to find at least three things I am grateful for and try to record them in a journal (or blog when i have time). Because, really, I can't imagine how great it would be to feel like every day is Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Macau
We went to Macau this weekend. Macau is just a ferry hop skip and jump away from HK. And boy can those ferries hop!
I expected Macau to be somewhat like Hong Kong in that it was also a foreign post for East-West trade between mostly closed China and the Europeans, was owned and operated by said European colonialists, and eventually returned to China when they had no better excuse to keep it, as an SAR.
Macua is equally proud of their Chinese and Portuguese roots. Their cultural sites include ancient Chinese statues and buildings, juxtaposed among old Portuguese sites. One of the only standing temples to a local Macau god is cared for by Jesuit priests, and you can worship local gods or christianity there harmoniously.
It was the harmonious blending of Chinese and Portuguese that struck me most. Portuguese and Chinese are blended into the food, language, buildings, daces, music, everything. Macua is neither Chinese nor is it Portuguesse. It reminds me of Kai, who doesnt look Japanese or Caucasian , but has his own look, and his own way of doing things, and is equally confortable with his Japanese and American heritage.
of course, in the casinos, this was not evident. but the casinos lent an interesting twist to my view of Macau. Step inside, and you enter a bizzarre world where you can live in a casino for 10 years and never have to leave and there will still be places you haven't been. Casinos the size of small cities, almost completely self reliant, with their own shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues. It took us hours to get through just one of the casinos---- and because of Kai, we couldn't even go into the gambling part!!!! It even had an entire recreation of Venice, complete with an indoor canal with gondolas with singing gondoliers!!! Oh, and a fake blue "sky" overhead with clouds Mabo swore were moving.
I can't imagine how people ever find their way out. I guess if you are broke and can't pay the bills, the security will help you to the door!
Kai and mabo went two days ahead of me to see the macau Grand Prix races. they had such a good time, kai kept saying over and over I LOVE macau! I LOVE macau! I want to live there! I guess he thinks the Grand Prix goes on every day there. I'm sure the locals are glad it doesn't!
I expected Macau to be somewhat like Hong Kong in that it was also a foreign post for East-West trade between mostly closed China and the Europeans, was owned and operated by said European colonialists, and eventually returned to China when they had no better excuse to keep it, as an SAR.
Macua is equally proud of their Chinese and Portuguese roots. Their cultural sites include ancient Chinese statues and buildings, juxtaposed among old Portuguese sites. One of the only standing temples to a local Macau god is cared for by Jesuit priests, and you can worship local gods or christianity there harmoniously.
It was the harmonious blending of Chinese and Portuguese that struck me most. Portuguese and Chinese are blended into the food, language, buildings, daces, music, everything. Macua is neither Chinese nor is it Portuguesse. It reminds me of Kai, who doesnt look Japanese or Caucasian , but has his own look, and his own way of doing things, and is equally confortable with his Japanese and American heritage.
of course, in the casinos, this was not evident. but the casinos lent an interesting twist to my view of Macau. Step inside, and you enter a bizzarre world where you can live in a casino for 10 years and never have to leave and there will still be places you haven't been. Casinos the size of small cities, almost completely self reliant, with their own shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues. It took us hours to get through just one of the casinos---- and because of Kai, we couldn't even go into the gambling part!!!! It even had an entire recreation of Venice, complete with an indoor canal with gondolas with singing gondoliers!!! Oh, and a fake blue "sky" overhead with clouds Mabo swore were moving.
I can't imagine how people ever find their way out. I guess if you are broke and can't pay the bills, the security will help you to the door!
Kai and mabo went two days ahead of me to see the macau Grand Prix races. they had such a good time, kai kept saying over and over I LOVE macau! I LOVE macau! I want to live there! I guess he thinks the Grand Prix goes on every day there. I'm sure the locals are glad it doesn't!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
White privilege
One thing I have been struggling with for years is white privilege--the myriad of ways whites receive different (and typically preferential) treatment.. There is a huge difference between when my Japanese husband needs help and when I need help, and we experienced this everywhere in the US and Hong Kong. Lately, we have been talking about the different experiences we’ve been having when we go out in Hong Kong.
When I need help:
EX 1:
A few weeks ago, at a restaurant, an old woman was having dinner with her two adult sons. When it seemed clear we had no idea how to read the menu, she forced her (barely) English speaking son to walk over to our table and read the entire thing out loud to us. After a few minutes, we got a bit embarrassed and told him we were OK now and he didn’t have to continue, but he insisted his mother wouldn’t hear of it and he HAD to read the whole thing to us! After dinner, as we were leaving, she waved and smiled and was having the best time, feeling so good she could help us out.
Ex 2:
The other day, at another restaurant (yes, we are eating out a lot recently, because often eating out is cheaper than buying the ingredients and cooking at home which I think is bizarre) I ordered iced lemon tea (which no one in the world makes as good as in Hong Kong…I’m addicted!) for myself and Kai. I ordered in Cantonese: “ping lemon cha.” I repeated “ping” several times because I know the tone is high and I don’t say it right most of the time. We got hot tea, so I know the “ping’ was not comprehensible to her. Kai was upset, but I told him to deal with the hot tea because I didn’t want to make a fuss and it was my fault for not saying Cantonese right and he needs to learn from this that pronunciation is that important.
But the couple next to us overheard the conversation and insisted the waitress bring iced tea, which she did. I thanked them for intervening on our behalf. Then, when our food arrived, the two ladies on our other side asked the waitress to bring us forks. It was a nice gesture, although we didn’t need or want forks (how do you eat noodle soup with a fork anyway?).
Ex 3:
And whenever I ask for directions or need assistance, people are always willing to try to help, even though many in my neighbourhood are terrified of using English and feel very self conscious about talking to me, to the point sometimes they just run away out of sheer fear of making a mistake. But they almost always try, and their body language makes it clear they feel they are the ones to be ashamed for not knowing English. No one gives me a hard time about not knowing Cantonese.
Every time I ask for directions in English, I am asserting power and dominance and making people feel ashamed that they don’t speak MY language, even though I live in THEIR country. It’s not intentional: I don’t mean to assert power and dominance. I just don’t know Cantonese yet and I just happen to be white. But it’s there all the same, whether I like it or want it or not. But my Japanese husband has a very different experience.
When Mabo needs help:
Mabo is absolutely certain these things never ever happen to him when I am not there. When he is out on the town with Kai, he is treated either indifferently, or downright rudely, by the locals when he asks for help. They seem to resent having to talk to him in English.
Sometimes it’s clear they think he is Filipino (his pudgy nose and curly hair is not stereotypically Japanese looking). I feel incredibly bad for how Filipinos are treated here, but that is another blog topic. You can see it in their eyes, how they think of him when they don’t realize he is Japanese (this sometimes changes when he speaks Japanese, because HK people LOVE all things Japanese!)
This is actually helping his Cantonese, because when people see me, they either run away or try to speak English. When they see him, without me, they insist on speaking Cantonese, even when he clearly doesn’t understand. So he gets a lot of input and feedback and corrections that no one does for me.
But on a daily basis, he is amazed at how very different his experience is with the locals when I am with him and when he is by himself, or with just Kai.
I have heard similar stories among other countries people, in the Middle East, Africa, US, Canada, Mexico, South America: all say lighter skinned people in their parts of the world fare better as well. They are generally perceived as more beautiful. They are perceived as more valuable, more intelligent, smarter, cuter, [insert any number of positive adjectives here]. If anyone knows any place where the darkest skinned people are percieved more favorably, I would be interested to learn, becauase it's depressingly the same story every time I ask.
Asians, crazy about lighter skin, actually put big bucks on the table to buy “skin lightning” creams that guarantee to lighten you at least a shade or two if used regularly. That can’t be healthy. I had a Japanese friend that put sunscreen (very expensive in JP) all over her car windows so she wouldn’t get tanned while driving in the car. It was somewhat difficult to see out of her windows and probably dangerous, but she was happy.
This is completely crazy behaviour! 1,000 years ago, when most indigenous people didn’t even know white skin existed, I doubt lighter skinned people were given any special status. If any of you is a social historian, I would be greatly interested to know if this light skin preference, a global phenomena, dates back any further than the European colonialism era.
I struggle with this, because day to day, white privilege makes things easier and better for me. But at the end of the day no one, not even the whites, benefit when one group is treated differently from another group, even when the treatment is better. I feel that as a single individual I don’t have the power to change an entire planet’s preference for lighter colored skin. On the other hand, I don’t want to be like a co-worker who said “Hey, the [ESL] world likes us whites more. We have an easier time getting hired [for ESL jobs] and our students are happier [that they have white ESL teachers]. We can’t fight it, so just enjoy it.”
Monday, November 15, 2010
Confession: my birth expereince and struggle with PPD
This is my birth and post partum expereince. It was a painful one in more ways than one. I am writing this after all these years becuase I never have talked about it, but the past few days there are signs around me that perhaps I should talk about it. At least once. just in case there is a woman feeling her expereince is bad or shameful and she feels alone. if you happen upon this blog and don't want to know the gory details of my expereince, feel free to skip this one.
The Signs:
The other day, I got a very simple message from an old dear friend.
When she was preganant she asked me about my expereince with Kai as a newborn. I had not told anyone about the first months just after my child arrived for three and a half years. I just couldn't talk about it with anyone. I may have shared a detail here and there, but for some reason, on that day about 7 months ago, I wanted to tell my old friend my expereinces, good and ugly.
Her message the other day simply thanked me for being the only person who had been honest with her about how bad it could get. Her baby is a just a couple of weeks old now. I hope she reads this and remembers it does get better, and if she needs help, to ask until she recieves what she needs.
I also read this article that a very new friend had posted in her blog. I truly admire her courage to talk about her traumatic expereinces during and after labor and her worries about the new pregnancy.
And just the other day, i told a fairly new aquaintence that I despised my son when he was a newborn, somehting I never told anyone else except my husband, and relized that time was so far behind me, and my bond with my son so strong now, I was no longer ashamed and afraid of my feelings.
In fact, i think its helpful to tell women the darker truth, so they don't feel ashamed and alone and afraid of themselves.
The Hollywood version:
I understand for a large number of women, birth and life with newborns is very much the idyllic situation Hollywood protrays it to be. You are walking down the street, or eating a piece of cake, and suddenly your water breaks. you do whatever you need to (call the family, take a shower, take a walk, engage in hilarious antcis, whatever) and when you get into serious labor, you are whisked off to the hospitol where after a few good pushes, out pops your beautiful newborn that coos and smiles right awaay, completely clean and already wrinkle free. Any problems you expereince with baby are just fodder for comedy (pee in the face on the first diaper changing, food thrown at you from baby's first spon, etc).
But, just like everything else in Hollywwod, the vast majority of people don't expereince life the way it is portrayed on the silver screen.
of course, I had more realistic expectations than that, but I did expect i would get contractions, go to the hospitol when they were a few minutes apart, push a while, and cuddle with my baby who would instantly take to my breast and all would be well.
Warning: Graphic descriptions ahead. proceed at your own risk.
The reality: My birthing and postpartum expereince.
that didn't happen. my doctor decided he didn't want me to be pregnant anymore. (yes, HE decided this, not me or Kai) and insisted i go to the hospital where they could force my child out by hook or by crook. After 8 hours of not responding to ever increasing doses of drugs to force labor, my doctor decide to break my water with a long metal stick. Still nothing. more drugs. When the contractions started for real, my cervix refused to dialate. No part of my body or Kai was ready for labor and yet drugs were forcing the muscles to contract against a tightly closed cervix. I did this for hours when out of sheer exhaustion I asked for some pain meds becuase i had been strapped down to a bed and not allowed to move a muscle for 15 hours and was sore and tired even when there werent any contractions. Added to having "Dry, back labor" two intensley painful kinds of labor, I was about to pass out. As soon as the drugs hit, i slept through two hours of contractions, to wake up crying in pain because the drugs stopped working entirely, to which the nurses scoffed, "nonesence" . it was all my imagination. i was in imagionary pain for hours until the doctor came and yelled a tthe nurses to unstrap me, get a monitor that wasn't broken, give me more meds if I wanted them, and so on and so forth. by the time those meds set in, kai was fading fast as was I and the nurses decided I needed a C-section. i was crying half hysterically because that was the LAST thing i had wanted, and the doctor was furious the nurses had prepped me for surgery without his order. because i was on so many drugs (which i had sworn i wouldn't take) i didn't even feel the doctor use a tool to stretch opn my cervix by hand forcibly so Kai coudl pass through.
I pushed, he pulled.
And Kai entered the world, greyish white, cool, and completely quiet. they let me see him for less than a minute before they whisked him away from me to NICU and didn't let me see him for 1/2 a day. When i did visit, it was only for a few minutes. I was bleeding becuase i didn't completly deliver the placenta for a whole day and i was very badly torn. Kai had all these tiny tubes and monitoring tools and untangling him took so much time i hardly had a minute to hold him before he had to hook him back up. The thing is, it was all to "monitor him", not because he needed to be tube fed or couldn't beat his own heart. they just didn't like how grey and quiet he was, so they put al these tools on him "to be sure".
the nurses asked if i was planning on breastfeeding, and i said of course. they asked me how many classes and how many books I had read on the subject. Considering i was in graduate school and desperately trying to finish all my courses before the baby came, I had doubled up my courseload and was working day and night on my graduate portfolio and didn't have a minute to spare. i finished my last sentence the very day I was admitted to the hospitol, about 30 minutes before in fact. perhaps i shoudl have read a book about breastfeeding during the 15 hours i was strapped to the bed with nothing to do. i didn't think about it.
In disgust, the nurse walked off and came back 30 minutes later and tossed a book on my bed. "Here," she said and she flicked the book across the room onto my lap, "Why dont you try educating yourself if you are going to do something that important!" (or something to that effect)
needless to say, I was more than happy to get out of there. Nobody ever bothered to cut me a break.
Homecoming:
Life was not easier after Kai came home. he never stopped crying. he refused to breastfeed. he never slept more than 20 minutes at a time. he never cooed or did anything cute; it was just scream scream scream all day all night. I hated him. I hated my husband for doing this to me. I couldn't sleep becuae of the constant screaming. I was completely alone. I had no support. No family, no friends; even Mabo was out of the house from 7:30 am to 10:00 pm most days. My mother had died just the year before and I greived for her harder than I ever had before.
I hallucinated that Kai had grown horns and fangs and was the Devil's Baby (and i'm not even Christian!). I left him. Sometimes i couldnt stand the noise, so i would leave him alone and take a shower with the music on so i didn't have to hear him scream. Sometimes i sat outside on the steps pretending to look at my mail, intensely engrossed by the grocery store flyers, becuase I knew I KNEW if I went back inside that house I might just kill that demon baby. I yelled at him to shut up!!! And i was more guilty and ashamed of myself for feeling and doing those things and isolated myslef even more becuse i didn't want anyone to know what a bad mother I was. I cried more than Kai did. I cried and cried and I hated myself and everything was a whirl of suffering and hoplessness and shame.
Nothing worked out the way i wanted. nothing was as i had hoped it would be. My girlfreind had a baby not long after and she woudl call me because her baby just slept and slept and she was bored with nothing to do. And i hated her too.
In fact, i hated anyone who was having fun and enjoying their lives and their children because I got Rosemary's Baby and all I wanted was to put both of us out of our misery. And of course, I hated myself for hating others fortune.
When kai was 6 months old, several things happened. First, my breasts stopped producing milk. I had been fighting this issue for six months but Kai just wouldn't drink my milk and drying up gave me the excuse to finally toss in the towel and not feel guilty about that. i tried. My breasts failed. My son failed. But now I could just give him a bottle without feeling bad about it. I had no milk, end of story.
Then, I went back to work part time. i am very sure i was an awful teacher, becuase I was still throttled by depression and guilt and shame and exhausted beyond human capacity for sanity.
I was probably half insane. I'm sure i was the worst teacher those students ever had.
But it got me out of the house and gave me a reason to get out of milk soaked pajamas and shower and comb my hair, which in itself made me feel better.
Also, Kai was tested for a kdney infection and it turned out he had a raging one, and might have had it for several months, possibly almost his whole life. Imagine if you had a kidney infection your whole life! You'd scream too. With medication, he magically stopped screaming within days.
Also, we tested kai for allergies, and it turned out he was allergic to just about everything. Fortunately these days nothing really bothers him much, but at 6 months, he reacted to 10/20 tests. So he was allergic to my breastmilk and every formula I tried, and had a raging kidney infection.
but once i got him on soy formula, and the meds for his infection kicked in, I got my first smile. And it was the most incredible moment of my life. After a long drink, Kai gave this satisfied sigh, gazed up at me, flashed a toothless grin, and slept for a glorious two hours. I cried, but a happy cry, and slept snuggled up against him for those two hours, the quiestest and happiest two hours since birth.
kai was almost a year old before i couldn honestly say i loved him. Oh sure, I said it before, but I felt I was a liar. A fake, a fraud. i didn't love this creature. but i has duty-bound to care for him and i did my duty. I met my obligations, but I didn't do anything out of genuine love.
Our relationship was slow to start but once we got in sync with each other, we have enjoyed a very strong bond and we very deeply love each other now, the way I think only a mother and son can love each other. he is my greatest joy and my greatest strenght, and everything i do is for him and his happiness.
I later learned that i was suffering from post partum depression and probably post partum psychosis, which is a real medical ailment. many women have these thoughts and feelings, and with help and support they recover and their relationships with their children are not permanently damaged. it is a very good thing children dont have long term memory capacity before two.
Several of my freinds are preganat now and several people have asked me when is Kuwata #2 coming along. I am so afraid of PPD again, I would only consider it if i found myslef surrounded by loving supportive people, and if i found myself at a place where I can do a homebirth, becuase i would rather die than deliver in a hospital again. I'm also afraid of back labor and dry birth, because those are incredibly painful situations and i expereinced both.
if I knew I woudl have a regualr birth, hollywood style, that is natural, and a regualr child who slept several hours at a time and did cute things like coo and smile, and if i knew i woudl have appropriate support after delivery and if i can do it and be a sane rational human being again instead of a greiving raving hallucinagenic lunatic, then i would consider a Kuwata #2. But that's alot of "ifs".
The Signs:
The other day, I got a very simple message from an old dear friend.
When she was preganant she asked me about my expereince with Kai as a newborn. I had not told anyone about the first months just after my child arrived for three and a half years. I just couldn't talk about it with anyone. I may have shared a detail here and there, but for some reason, on that day about 7 months ago, I wanted to tell my old friend my expereinces, good and ugly.
Her message the other day simply thanked me for being the only person who had been honest with her about how bad it could get. Her baby is a just a couple of weeks old now. I hope she reads this and remembers it does get better, and if she needs help, to ask until she recieves what she needs.
I also read this article that a very new friend had posted in her blog. I truly admire her courage to talk about her traumatic expereinces during and after labor and her worries about the new pregnancy.
And just the other day, i told a fairly new aquaintence that I despised my son when he was a newborn, somehting I never told anyone else except my husband, and relized that time was so far behind me, and my bond with my son so strong now, I was no longer ashamed and afraid of my feelings.
In fact, i think its helpful to tell women the darker truth, so they don't feel ashamed and alone and afraid of themselves.
The Hollywood version:
I understand for a large number of women, birth and life with newborns is very much the idyllic situation Hollywood protrays it to be. You are walking down the street, or eating a piece of cake, and suddenly your water breaks. you do whatever you need to (call the family, take a shower, take a walk, engage in hilarious antcis, whatever) and when you get into serious labor, you are whisked off to the hospitol where after a few good pushes, out pops your beautiful newborn that coos and smiles right awaay, completely clean and already wrinkle free. Any problems you expereince with baby are just fodder for comedy (pee in the face on the first diaper changing, food thrown at you from baby's first spon, etc).
But, just like everything else in Hollywwod, the vast majority of people don't expereince life the way it is portrayed on the silver screen.
of course, I had more realistic expectations than that, but I did expect i would get contractions, go to the hospitol when they were a few minutes apart, push a while, and cuddle with my baby who would instantly take to my breast and all would be well.
Warning: Graphic descriptions ahead. proceed at your own risk.
The reality: My birthing and postpartum expereince.
that didn't happen. my doctor decided he didn't want me to be pregnant anymore. (yes, HE decided this, not me or Kai) and insisted i go to the hospital where they could force my child out by hook or by crook. After 8 hours of not responding to ever increasing doses of drugs to force labor, my doctor decide to break my water with a long metal stick. Still nothing. more drugs. When the contractions started for real, my cervix refused to dialate. No part of my body or Kai was ready for labor and yet drugs were forcing the muscles to contract against a tightly closed cervix. I did this for hours when out of sheer exhaustion I asked for some pain meds becuase i had been strapped down to a bed and not allowed to move a muscle for 15 hours and was sore and tired even when there werent any contractions. Added to having "Dry, back labor" two intensley painful kinds of labor, I was about to pass out. As soon as the drugs hit, i slept through two hours of contractions, to wake up crying in pain because the drugs stopped working entirely, to which the nurses scoffed, "nonesence" . it was all my imagination. i was in imagionary pain for hours until the doctor came and yelled a tthe nurses to unstrap me, get a monitor that wasn't broken, give me more meds if I wanted them, and so on and so forth. by the time those meds set in, kai was fading fast as was I and the nurses decided I needed a C-section. i was crying half hysterically because that was the LAST thing i had wanted, and the doctor was furious the nurses had prepped me for surgery without his order. because i was on so many drugs (which i had sworn i wouldn't take) i didn't even feel the doctor use a tool to stretch opn my cervix by hand forcibly so Kai coudl pass through.
I pushed, he pulled.
And Kai entered the world, greyish white, cool, and completely quiet. they let me see him for less than a minute before they whisked him away from me to NICU and didn't let me see him for 1/2 a day. When i did visit, it was only for a few minutes. I was bleeding becuase i didn't completly deliver the placenta for a whole day and i was very badly torn. Kai had all these tiny tubes and monitoring tools and untangling him took so much time i hardly had a minute to hold him before he had to hook him back up. The thing is, it was all to "monitor him", not because he needed to be tube fed or couldn't beat his own heart. they just didn't like how grey and quiet he was, so they put al these tools on him "to be sure".
the nurses asked if i was planning on breastfeeding, and i said of course. they asked me how many classes and how many books I had read on the subject. Considering i was in graduate school and desperately trying to finish all my courses before the baby came, I had doubled up my courseload and was working day and night on my graduate portfolio and didn't have a minute to spare. i finished my last sentence the very day I was admitted to the hospitol, about 30 minutes before in fact. perhaps i shoudl have read a book about breastfeeding during the 15 hours i was strapped to the bed with nothing to do. i didn't think about it.
In disgust, the nurse walked off and came back 30 minutes later and tossed a book on my bed. "Here," she said and she flicked the book across the room onto my lap, "Why dont you try educating yourself if you are going to do something that important!" (or something to that effect)
needless to say, I was more than happy to get out of there. Nobody ever bothered to cut me a break.
Homecoming:
Life was not easier after Kai came home. he never stopped crying. he refused to breastfeed. he never slept more than 20 minutes at a time. he never cooed or did anything cute; it was just scream scream scream all day all night. I hated him. I hated my husband for doing this to me. I couldn't sleep becuae of the constant screaming. I was completely alone. I had no support. No family, no friends; even Mabo was out of the house from 7:30 am to 10:00 pm most days. My mother had died just the year before and I greived for her harder than I ever had before.
I hallucinated that Kai had grown horns and fangs and was the Devil's Baby (and i'm not even Christian!). I left him. Sometimes i couldnt stand the noise, so i would leave him alone and take a shower with the music on so i didn't have to hear him scream. Sometimes i sat outside on the steps pretending to look at my mail, intensely engrossed by the grocery store flyers, becuase I knew I KNEW if I went back inside that house I might just kill that demon baby. I yelled at him to shut up!!! And i was more guilty and ashamed of myself for feeling and doing those things and isolated myslef even more becuse i didn't want anyone to know what a bad mother I was. I cried more than Kai did. I cried and cried and I hated myself and everything was a whirl of suffering and hoplessness and shame.
Nothing worked out the way i wanted. nothing was as i had hoped it would be. My girlfreind had a baby not long after and she woudl call me because her baby just slept and slept and she was bored with nothing to do. And i hated her too.
In fact, i hated anyone who was having fun and enjoying their lives and their children because I got Rosemary's Baby and all I wanted was to put both of us out of our misery. And of course, I hated myself for hating others fortune.
When kai was 6 months old, several things happened. First, my breasts stopped producing milk. I had been fighting this issue for six months but Kai just wouldn't drink my milk and drying up gave me the excuse to finally toss in the towel and not feel guilty about that. i tried. My breasts failed. My son failed. But now I could just give him a bottle without feeling bad about it. I had no milk, end of story.
Then, I went back to work part time. i am very sure i was an awful teacher, becuase I was still throttled by depression and guilt and shame and exhausted beyond human capacity for sanity.
I was probably half insane. I'm sure i was the worst teacher those students ever had.
But it got me out of the house and gave me a reason to get out of milk soaked pajamas and shower and comb my hair, which in itself made me feel better.
Also, Kai was tested for a kdney infection and it turned out he had a raging one, and might have had it for several months, possibly almost his whole life. Imagine if you had a kidney infection your whole life! You'd scream too. With medication, he magically stopped screaming within days.
Also, we tested kai for allergies, and it turned out he was allergic to just about everything. Fortunately these days nothing really bothers him much, but at 6 months, he reacted to 10/20 tests. So he was allergic to my breastmilk and every formula I tried, and had a raging kidney infection.
but once i got him on soy formula, and the meds for his infection kicked in, I got my first smile. And it was the most incredible moment of my life. After a long drink, Kai gave this satisfied sigh, gazed up at me, flashed a toothless grin, and slept for a glorious two hours. I cried, but a happy cry, and slept snuggled up against him for those two hours, the quiestest and happiest two hours since birth.
kai was almost a year old before i couldn honestly say i loved him. Oh sure, I said it before, but I felt I was a liar. A fake, a fraud. i didn't love this creature. but i has duty-bound to care for him and i did my duty. I met my obligations, but I didn't do anything out of genuine love.
Our relationship was slow to start but once we got in sync with each other, we have enjoyed a very strong bond and we very deeply love each other now, the way I think only a mother and son can love each other. he is my greatest joy and my greatest strenght, and everything i do is for him and his happiness.
I later learned that i was suffering from post partum depression and probably post partum psychosis, which is a real medical ailment. many women have these thoughts and feelings, and with help and support they recover and their relationships with their children are not permanently damaged. it is a very good thing children dont have long term memory capacity before two.
Several of my freinds are preganat now and several people have asked me when is Kuwata #2 coming along. I am so afraid of PPD again, I would only consider it if i found myslef surrounded by loving supportive people, and if i found myself at a place where I can do a homebirth, becuase i would rather die than deliver in a hospital again. I'm also afraid of back labor and dry birth, because those are incredibly painful situations and i expereinced both.
if I knew I woudl have a regualr birth, hollywood style, that is natural, and a regualr child who slept several hours at a time and did cute things like coo and smile, and if i knew i woudl have appropriate support after delivery and if i can do it and be a sane rational human being again instead of a greiving raving hallucinagenic lunatic, then i would consider a Kuwata #2. But that's alot of "ifs".
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