Spoiled little rich moms
22 Mar 2009 3 Comments
No matter how much we complain of working hard and having too much to do, there are our counterparts in the west that definately have it worse.
I’ve always considered myself really lucky because my mom came to live with me for around a month after every delivery. Besides having her around, I have always had a maid (partime and now full time) and then the ever famous massage lady, who came in every day for 40 days to massage me and the little one. She even bathed the baby and when she left, the little buggers would sleep for hours.
After my c-section, I really milked the extra help I had on hand. I had water brought to me, my meals served, and almost everything I desired came to me, not the other way around. Now I’m not going to say that I had an easy ride. Of course I’ve pulled my weight in some way or the other, but honestly, I’ve heard stories of friends who gave birth in the west, or even regular moms who live in Canada or America that will tell you how hard it is.
A friend who had a c-section lived in a two story house. The kitchen was on the bottom floor, and since there was no one to help her, she was doing stairs after 1 week of surgery. Another girl had a normal delivery, but had a really bad case of the blues, and didn’t eat properly for months. One girl had two kids in school, and had to do school pick and drops within days of her c-section. Different girls, going through different experiences. And in fact, the reality is that most women who give birth in the west have no one to turn to. No extra pampering and no extra love.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to go through something as difficult as child birth and then the early days of motherhood without my mom and all the other accessories that made it easier. Just the mere thought of it is scary, and while my sympathy goes out to all those western moms, I must say, I am deeply impressed with their achievements in motherhood. I know I couldn’t have done it alone.
The Two Kinds of Moms
20 Mar 2009 8 Comments
There are so many different categories that we can divide mothers into. Good/Bad, Clean/Dirty, Hot/Not, Strict/Relaxed… you name it! For every category there is its nemesis. But in my world there is only one category.
The mom’s who have their kids clean up before leaving, and those who don’t.
If I had 100 dhs for every time someone’s kid came to my house and left a HUGE mess, I’d be able to start an early college fund for my kids. WHY?? I mean seriously why do moms do that? Isn’t it just as essential to teach our kids to tidy up at someone else’s house as much as it is in our own? Why don’t mothers think that it’s impolite to leave behind a great big mess? I’ve always been really bothered by these kinds of women, those who collect their kids and their bags and waltz right out of the tornado their kid helped create.
As a rule I have always made my kids tidy up before leaving. Not because I’m trying to show the other person down, but because I think this is an essential character trait to have. We need to learn at a young age that we are responsible to clean up the mess we make. And no matter how many moms I meet, this is the one criteria I use to judge them. It might sound extravagant, but really, at the heart of it, when we try to raise good responsible children, how can we overlook something so critical.
Ladies, I love you all dearly, and hope that none of you is that kind of mom. Teach your children to clean up their own mess, at least when they come to my house 
Parenting a Toddler: 201 – The Self Tutorial
19 Mar 2009 3 Comments
I started writing this post with an entirely different idea in mind. I was going down the road of how, in the past, I had changed the “twos” from terrible to terrific. In sight of that, I had gone back to my original blog to dig up the link for my Terrific Twos post – and once I found it, I found a whole host of other posts. In a bizzare world, there was the Hina of yesteryear, parenting a toddler and being honest about the experience. I must have spent a good few hours reading my own entries while nodding and shaking my head. It was hilarious, saddening, entertaining, but most of all – eye opening.
So I HAVE done this before, and it WAS hard then too! Who would have thought! All this while, I had spent telling myself that Ayzah was just a little terrorist, harder than Iman had been, but the truth is… Iman was just as bad. So Kudos to Ayzah for not being as much of a trouble maker as I had made her out to be! And shame on me for not seeing it before.
The series of posts that I managed to read through really enlightened me as a parent. I’ve done this before, it’s a familiar road, I have the directions, I just need to travel the journey, and it’s going to be up to me to enjoy the scenery along the way. I am leaving you girls with the link to my Terrific Two’s entry. When you read it last, it must have made little to no sense at all. So go back and read it again, and now, as you all stand in the same shoes as me, it should have a lot more meaning.
The Man/Woman Photo Phenomenon
18 Mar 2009 6 Comments
I’ve never understood why men always look good (well at least the good looking ones) and the women (most of us) need a little make up to be presentable. As a parent this ends up being a huge dilemma because it takes away from the spontaneity of picture moments. I have SO many pictures of the girls and Omair doing all kinds of random things, but I have never posed for the camera unless I was all made up.
On one hand it’s a sad truth, but what can I say… the real spontaneous me looks a tad scary, and I refuse to leave behind a legacy of pictures where I could be mistaken for the grim reaper. Although most of it is because of the kids themselves. Had I been sleeping 8 hours a day, I probably would have eyes in place of my black holes. But really, I find it quite unfair that in order to be a part of our photo collection, I have to do my hair, take out concealer, lay out the foundation, cake on some powder, etc.
Ok so it’s not that bad, but it’s not that good either. I guess the only consolation is that the kids always look adorable, so at least when that spontaneous moment arises, I can still capture it – while hiding behind the camera!
What newborns aren’t capable of
17 Mar 2009 1 Comment
There are a lot of things we forget about early parenthood. Usually we forget how small the babies are, and how difficult it is to change those first diapers. We forget how hard it is to give them a bath and squeeze thier teeny tiny arms into the undershirt. We forget that it takes SO long to burp them, that by the time you get them to burp, it’s almost time for another feeding. There’s a lot that we forget.
Last week Ayaan started showing more alertness when he was awake. So I tried to make the most of it. I tickled his tummy, played little games, and did all kinds of things to entertain him. But since he’s so young, he didn’t respond. That’s when I realized that one of the things that I forgot about newborns is that they don’t get entertained so easily. It’s going to be a while before I see a smile
1 month old already!
16 Mar 2009 2 Comments
Ayaan turned one month old today! And here’s the stuff I know about him so far…
He likes to grunt (a lot).
He likes to fart a lot.
He doesn’t like being wrapped up, in fact he struggles (while grunting) until he is free.
He likes to sleep between 7-9 am every day.
He likes to pee and poop as soon as we set him in the bath (it’s really gross).
He turns all red and purple (as though he’s about to poo) but then just grunts and turns back to his normal color.
I have mastered a technique so that I don’t get shot in the face with baby boy pee
Happy 1 Month Birthday Ayaan!
Strip Tease
14 Mar 2009 2 Comments
Ayzah has a new thing… stripping. She can take her clothes off faster than you can imagine, and then she runs around the house naked!! She’s even managed to take her diaper off and go streaking around the house. Aahhhh… the joys of toddlerism. I hope she grows up and read this.
PS – I could have posted a picture, but I’m nice, so I didn’t.
A litte something to add cheer
12 Mar 2009 4 Comments
Baby Ayaan (as Ayzah likes to call him), is lying next to me in bed. I could be sleeping right now, but instead decided to blog. I love mornings, even now. Even though I haven’t slept most of the night, there is something about the morning light that brings so much hope with it. The new day promises a fresh new start. Today will be a good day – InshAllah.
PS – Did I mention it’s also the weekend? Woohoo!
In Limbo, with the Blues
10 Mar 2009 4 Comments
Having a newborn is hard work. No matter how happy or excited you are, the truth is that it’s hard work. And somehow, because I’ve done this twice before, it is naturally assumed that I no longer need help. In truth, I also thought I didn’t need help. I know this stuff like the back of my hand, but the back of my hand doesn’t have to deal with tiredness and fatigue.
These past three weeks have been tough. Starting from the trauma of a complicated birth, and then being flung head first into the new mom thing after surgery. This time around I don’t have the pampering or the sympathy. And in this I am referring not only to my own immediate family, but also all friends and visitors. Somehow I have surpassed the “awww you poor thing” and gone on to “see, we told you so”.
Yes, it’s true. They DID tell me so.
But it’s done. I’ve gone ahead and had the baby, and now I don’t need to be reminded DAILY how hard my life is going to be for the next couple of years. We had tried to prepare ourselves for this. Omair and I knew that life would be in “limbo” for the first 2 months, as it always is with any kid. We all need time to work in another member of the family, get used to the new dynamics, and start loving the change. But somehow, the events unfolded in quite an unsavory manner, and now I am stuck in this bizarre space that I don’t want to be in.
It feels like I can’t do anything right, and not to mention, because of the C-section, it feels like I can’t do anything at all. I am carrying a lot of guilt with me. Guilt of not being able to pick up Ayzah and be the mom that she remembers. Guilt that I have to ask others to do so much for me, guilt that despite all that I have been given, I am being ungrateful.
But let me just come out and say it… This is unfair. A simple surgery has left me with a life that I can’t seem to live. I feel handicapped, and in pain a lot. It’s been 3 weeks, shouldn’t it be getting better?? Ok, it is better. But shouldn’t it go away now?? And even if the pain goes away, there is a list of don’ts that will dominate my life for the next 6 months. Don’t pick up your older children, don’t drive, don’t bend, don’t run around, don’t over do it… in other words, don’t be the person you used to be… but the good news is that you’re fine.
Well I’m not. Not fine, not at all. I was ready to go head on with a new born and a toddler and a preschooler, but this isn’t me. This is someone else, someone handicapped who is still in a lot of pain, even though it’s been three weeks.
Yes I am getting the blues. And I’m trying to keep my head on straight and work around it, but somehow the hormonal imbalance is getting the better of me and I find myself hiding in the bathroom almost every night crying. I knew the limbo would be hard, but between the C-Section, the tired fatigue and the constant reminders that I was told not to do this… I could seriously use a break. Maybe the hardest part about all this is that every time I try to turn to Omair for help or just comfort, the conversation never goes well. It’s like we’re in alien space. This isn’t us, maybe because this isn’t me.
This too shall pass… has been my motto since forever. All hard times blow over, we just have to hang in there. But the sooner I am on the other side of this, the better. Because even the strongest of us, those who have been told that they are supermom, have their weaker moments, and perhaps this moment, is the weakest of mine.
The Story of Ayaan
03 Mar 2009 5 Comments
I was in bed, it was 1 am and my water broke.
This was all too familiar for me, and I was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. Fear for the labor ahead, excitement to see the new baby, nervousness about leaving my kids. It was almost mechanical. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I woke up Omair, called my neighbor to come and sit with the kids and changed before leaving for the hospital.
As we drove our 2 minute drive, Omair and I kept exchanging nervous smiles. This was it. I was about to give birth to the last of our clan, and it felt good.
At the hospital I was checked in and strapped to the machines and monitors. Once we were settled, Omair looked at the room clock and said… “So by fajar we’re going to have another little one!”. Time ticked away. I waited for contractions. They came, few and far in between. Some of them harder than others, but nothing regular. By 6 am we were still waiting for something to happen. The night had been rather uneventful. The doctor came by and said that she was going to send me in for an ultrasound. Since my water had broken much earlier, she wanted to make sure that there was enough water for the baby to breath. So in another couple of hours I was wheeled to radiology where they did my scan. When the little bugger appeared on screen, I knew right away that things weren’t right.
There wasn’t enough water left. In fact, it was almost all drained, and soon the baby would struggle to breath. But that wasn’t the start of it. The little one, who for the past four weeks had his head fixed in my pelvis, had disengaged and was now in the transverse position. Sideways. He was lying sideways across my belly. As his image appeared in fuzzy blotches on the screen, I knew I would need a C-section.
Surely enough, the doctor came and told me that they would need to do an emergency C-Section. The baby was stable, but there was no option to attempt a normal delivery. I was ok about it. Some how it just felt like the right way to go. Next thing I know, I was being prepped to go to the OT. As they wheeled me inside, Omair walked beside me. We exchanged one last kiss and a smile. The nurse handed Omair a gown and told him that she’ll be out with the baby in 15 minutes. I could see him both excited and nervous. Inside the OT, they explained the procedure. Everything was going according to clock work. It felt normal. I wasn’t upset or angry, I just went along with things as they happened. They had administered an epidural, so I was really excited to be able to witness all the proceedings. I was talked through the entire procedure, and then, the nurse said… in another 2 minutes you’ll hear your baby cry.
Time ticked on. 1 minute, 2, then 3 and then 4. No baby, no crying. At the same time I could hear nervous tension among the doctors and nurses. I knew something was wrong, but I kept assuring myself that sometimes things take longer than we anticipate, so I kept praying and waiting to hear the cry. It didn’t come.
Instead, the doctor, my doctor of 5 years, the one who was the “rock” stable and solid, started getting nervous. I heard her saying words like “more suction” “retract, retract, I need more retraction!” her voice was getting more and more worked up. I heard her say… “Oh God, oh God”. Everything started blurring for me. I tried grasping at the moment, wanting to know more, but afraid to ask any questions. The scene became something out of a medical drama. The doctor struggling, nurses hovering around in tension, words being thrown around, hands pulling and amidst all that, I heard my doctor say “This baby will not die on my table!”, and with that, my entire world stopped. I could still hear the chaos but I had stopped listening. I just lay there praying, praying really hard for all of this to end. For everything to be over. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. It was so surreal. How could things have gone so wrong?
The struggle continued, and I closed my eyes. Tears were rolling out, but my hands were tied to the side, so I could wipe them away. It had been a long time. Something that felt like an eternity. There was still no baby and still no crying. I could feel pulling and tugging and a lot of struggle. I could hear my doctor continue to say “Oh God, my God”. There was a man on top of me, pushing down and my doctor instructed “more pressure on the fundus”. There was pulling and more struggling. And during all this struggle, the curtain that they had put in front of me slipped a little. I couldn’t see much, I didn’t want to see anything at all. But I did see my doctors face and then she looked at me and said “pray Hina, pray right now that Allah gives life to your baby boy”. It was a surge of emotions. I had everything I had been praying for all these months. A little baby boy, but all this hanging by threads.
The next thing I know, the baby was handed to the neonatal team waiting behind the doctor. They put my son on the table and started working on his resuscitation. I couldn’t see much, but between the people, I could see a little blue leg and a little blue foot. He lay still. Not moving. The doctors were all moving to fast, I heard one say… “There’s no circulation” and then “The heartbeat is getting fainter”. At that moment, as I lay there on that table in that OT, I spoke to Allah, and I said… “It’s ok, I understand. You can take him”.
As I was being wheeled into the recovery room, I regained consciousness and my mind immediately flooded with all that had just happened. I looked up at the man at the head of the gurney and asked him “my son, is he…?” and the man said, “He’s fine, they’ve taken him to the nursery.” I saw Omair and asked him again… “The baby, is he ok?” and Omair said “He will be”. We were told that because there were complications in the birth the baby had been injured. They were afraid that he had fractured his collar bone, his arm and his rib. Aside from that he hadn’t cried fully, so there was a question about circulation and the supply of blood to his brain. We were told that he would be under observation for 4 hours, and then the doctors would decide what to do.
We spent those 4 hours in silent prayer. Each of us in our own way, hoping that things would get better, someone would come in and tell us that our baby is fine. I kept closing my eyes, hoping that all this was all a nightmare. Those 4 hours passed, we waited painstakingly to hear the result of the doctor’s exam. He called our room and told us that everything was fine. The baby was out of danger, and that circulation was normal. His brain activity showed proper function, and the bones were looking better.
There was a sigh of relief in the room. We all had on a nervous smile. Finally it felt like we could be happy about having a baby.
Later on that night when we spoke to the doctor, I asked her what went wrong. And she told me that in any C-Section there are 6 complications. In my case, all 6 things went wrong. First, the baby was transverse. Second, when she made the incision, I started losing too much blood too quickly. Third, as she cut through the uterus, the baby’s spine was on top. Fourth, there was no water left, so my uterus was contracting and sticking to the baby, in other words, trapping him inside. Fifth, the baby was premature, and too delicate, and couldn’t be pulled out with the same force as a full term baby. Sixth, once they had opened me up, they baby was no longer breathing.
But as they say… all is well that ends well. It had been a long night and a longer day. But the worst was behind us, and it was time to focus on the future. Our family of five. We had thought of several names, and when they wheeled the little one into our room at 8:30 that night, it was just Omair and me, and immediately when we looked at him, we both decided that his name had to be Ayaan – gift of God.
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