Babies...

There's a new baby in my house. And Bryan is behaving very very lovingly... and that's such a sweet sight to behold. Havent had the chance to take too many pictures of the 2 month old baby (and I didnt dare to use flash too... but here's some adorable pictures....)

Children Safety Awareness

SEPT 20, 2007 - Lately the rising of rape and kill rate of children are quite alarming. And it saddens me to see all these things happening to innocent young girls… There are more and more perverts out there and I really don’t feel safe anymore. Did you hear about the latest news, about a website called, MarryOurDaughter.com, which was created by a guy who wants US to do something about the minimum age for marriage and also try to encourage US to enhance their law on statutory rape and the loose law against rapist using marriage to escape from their sins. That website has lots and lots of young girls profile in there (age below 16) where the parents urge young eligible men to write in and propose to their daughters. There were a lot of response, from ppl all over US and the website had few hundred thousand hits in just 2 weeks. There were even requests from parents to add in their daughters into the site. So you see how pervertic both parents and men in the US.

The site, thankfully, is a hoax, created to spread awareness among the citizens as an urge for the legislative department in the US to do something to curb the “selling” of daughters (flesh trade) and hopefully save young girls from marriage-rape, or date-rape.

Just wanna create some awareness here with this article…

Well, I know you guys must be trying to go into the site as I speak… well the site has been taken down as of yesterday when the creator took his case to CNN to report his findings and urge the US Legislative department to do something. The thing is, this site may be a hoax in the US but in other parts of the world, it’s already happening and most government is not doing anything or cant do anything about it.

I am very worried… Maybe paranoia… I am thinking if I could ever manage a daughter in such a world. I think I would be having sleepless nights everyday, worrying about her… .. :P

Of Nurses and Paediatricians And Daddy - 15 June 2002

Bryan is 26 days old today and has already been out of the house twice after coming home from the hospital. We had to call on a doctor again this morning to check why his sticky eyes have not cleared after so many days.

For Bryan, it was another adventure. At such a tender age, he already knows the joy of “kai-kai” (going out). He would be nice and quiet the whole morning just before the journey. He wouldn’t sleep after his bath but feast his eyes at all the commotion around him as we get ourselves ready and also prepare his baby bag. We had to get him ready before “Poh Poh” (grandmother) comes to take him to the paediatrician. He must be thinking why everyone including himself is all dressed up today. I really melt at the way he stared at me as though he was asking why Mommy looked so beautiful today. He seems contented knowing that he is going to broaden his horizons today, extending out of the four pink walls of his nursery. He is too naive to know that future trips to the paediatrician may not be as enjoyable in the coming weeks when he is scheduled to take his immunization vaccines.

He was such a good boy when we took him for an early bath. Bryan seems to enjoy playing with the bath water with his ever-active hands and feet. Oddly enough, he wasn’t as fussy as usual even though we haven’t fed him. It was as though he knows that we are taking him out today. We usually bathe him before his feeds so that he can be lulled into deep sleep after his meals. Most of the time, he would be so impatient when we dress him. He would flap his little mitten-protected hands, kick up a fuss with his bootee-covered feet, and start wailing for his bottle.

However, his wails don’t usually come with tears. As such, we categorized that as crocodile tears whenever he yells for our attention. We thought nothing of the sticky yellowish substance that oozes out of each eye every time he becomes frustrated or whenever he wakes from his sleep. On his first visit to the paediatrician, the specialist told us that the sticky eye could be due to an infection on the umbilical cord. Well, he’s the specialist, so we believed him and paid a good sum for the diagnosis! Unfortunately, after finishing the whole course of eye drops and the umbilical cord has detached, there is still no sign of improvement to his eyes. We now know not to trust doctors who go around giving name cards at the maternity wards.

Our confinement lady advised us to check with another doctor to see if anything was wrong with Bryan’s eyes. Through her experience with other mothers and babies, she suspects that there could be something wrong with Bryan’s tear-ducts. True enough, the child specialist that we brought him to this time established that Bryan’s tear-ducts could be blocked. As such, we will need to massage areas around his eyes and nose to clear it. A little eye drops would help prevent further infection. Hopefully this specialist knows what she is doing to our baby.

Speaking of which, Daddy is really concern on whether the doctors and nurses knows what they are doing. When Bryan was still at the hospital, the nurses had to take some blood samples from the soles of his feet to perform the jaundice test. The anxious Daddy saw how the nurse poke three times on poor howling Bryan’s feet and scowled angrily at the nurse. The nurse sensing displeasure in Daddy’s eyes, stopped what she was doing to explain that the baby’s tiny feet were too cold for blood sampling. She further clarifies that she would have to redo the test later. Daddy was even more infuriated as the nurse should have known better not to cause so much agony to his precious baby and yet fail to accomplish anything. Even though Daddy refrained from taking the nurse to task, his angry stare was enough to ensure that the nurse did a successful and careful sampling the second time.

Bryan’s next visit to the paedatrician would be for his second dose of Hepatitis B vaccination. So far Daddy has not accompanied him for these visits (which is good news for the nurses) due to his busy work schedule. He feels really bad about this and on the nights before the visits, he would make a list of questions for me to ask the doctor. His lists are quite comprehensive, and really shows how prudent and cautious he is in noticing Bryan’s needs even though he sees Bryan for only a couple of hours a day. For example, he noticed a black dot on his belly button (a mark left behind after the cord detach), which I have carelessly missed. He also ensures that I check with the doctor various things which would not have crossed my mind at all, such as how to clear his nose and whether it would be safe to shave his head. (It is Chinese custom to shave a baby’s head on the baby’s full moon ceremony).

Well, even though Baby Bryan didn’t lament on the absence of his Daddy on those “first” occasions in his life, I am sure he wanted to hear the soothing voice of his Daddy after the doctor’s rough handling just as much as Mommy wanted to. I was really lost the first time when Bryan screamed in my arms after the doctor gave him his Hepatitis jab. I almost fainted but I garnered enough strength to console him. We really need him the most now that we are at our most vulnerable times, both emotionally and physically.

However, since it’s Father’s day in a few days time, I shall refrain from complaining too much about him not being around for Bryan and me during my confinement period. I am sure he wanted just as much to be there for us. After all, it’s HIS first time at being a father too. I understand that his responsibilities and his commitment to provide a roof over our heads and bread on the table have spread his time very thin. This weekend however, it’s going to be different. He has promised to spend the entire weekend with us, both to celebrate his first Father’s day and also Bryan’s full moon. He is taking Monday off too, just to distribute the full moon packages to our friends and relatives.

Daddy, if you happen to read this, Bryan and I would like to send you our hugs and kisses to thank you for trying so hard to be a good Hubby and Daddy. We love you, Daddy.

Confinement Blues - 19/6/2002

Tired would be in most women minds after labour. A little relieve maybe. I, however, was wide alert. I quickly ordered my husband to take pictures of baby Bryan. I also made sure he followed baby Bryan in case he got mixed up with the 11 other babies in the nursery. There was still enough strength left for me to ask the doctor how many stitches I have had after the episiotomy and the nurse whether I had passed motioned while pushing.

Soon after, my exhausted body took over my enthusiastic mind and I collapsed into deep slumber. The last thing I remembered was my husband taking pictures of me; shivering and disheveled. I woke to the whispers of my mother in law, her sister and my younger sister-in-law. That marks the beginning of my confinement period. On the hospital table was a tiffin full of yellow wine chicken. Being courteous, I picked up my weary self to welcome their arrival. Orders were quickly passed for the sister-in-law to bring the wine for me to drink. I was instructed to finish the wine while it was hot. And hot it really was, and spicy too, due to the large amount of ginger. Ginger is supposed to relieve the weak postpartum body of wind. I must have been really hungry, as I manage to finish a whole bowl of wine and I ate the chicken too. In fact, I could have finished more if not for fatigue and the uncomfortable eating position (I am not used to meals in bed!).

The first few days of confinement in the hospital passed by quite smoothly with me getting enough rest and assured that the baby was in good hands in the nursery next to my room. My baby didn’t give me much of a problem except for being lazy at getting his food. He prefers being bottle fed to doing the hard work of getting it directly from my breast. I didn’t think much of this until engorgement kicks in on the third day. After telling the nurse about my discomfort carrying two big packages of milk, she gave me two pieces of frozen cabbage leaves to ease the swelling. When the morning came, I was handed a manual pump the express the overflowing milk. Since baby doesn’t want to do the hard work, mommy has to do it.

Baby and I were fit enough for discharge on the fourth day and the confinement lady (an experienced babysitter hired for a month to take care of the baby and the postpartum mother) and my mother in law was there to greet me as I stepped into my house. Home sweet home. Home seems different, as Hubby has cleaned it up while I was at the hospital. Smells different too. The confinement lady or Aunty as we call her, has started to boil the red dates juice and ginger water. The red dates juice is to be drunk over the whole confinement period of a month while the ginger water is used for bathing. I was forewarned not to drink any plain water, especially cold water, so that I will not catch a cold. My postpartum body was still weak and could easily fall ill. I was to drink only the red dates juice, Milo, wine and herbal soup.

It was consider taboo to stand up whenever I consume anything. I must be seated whenever I eat or drink any of the above mentioned. My sister in law even said that it would be best if I could eat or drink while lying down. This as they say, would prevent bowels and prostate problems during my elderly years. Well-meaning relatives would also remind me of this taboo whenever they call to congratulate me. They usually would quote an instance of a friend or a relative, who did not conform to the taboo, has the misfortune of having problems with going to the washroom in their later years. I quickly obliged, as I was afraid that I might become one of the examples when they relate this taboo to others.

There were a lot of restrictions on food too. I have to consume tons and tons of ginger, kidneys, wine, “muk yue” (black fungi) and sesame oil. I am not a fan of spicy food and I get rashes when I drink wine, so imagine the torture of having to eat these for the whole month. I was petrified at the thought of confinement period during pregnancy as I don’t like ginger at all. Luckily, Aunty is a good cook and she alternate and fabricate the ginger into something that is appetizing to me. One day she would slice the ginger, and another day she would fry it into crispy strips and yet another would be diced into tiny cubes. Sometimes it would come in soup form or sprinkled onto the fish or meat that she serves. So, the food wasn’t as horrible as I had imagined.

Food was very important to me during this period as I am determined to breastfeed. I had to make sure that I was getting enough energy to produce good quality milk. Too much ginger and wine would be bad for the baby so I limit my consumption to only during lunch and dinner. I violated the rule of taking a nightcap (good for keeping the mother’s body warm at night) as I was afraid of getting a drunkard baby.

Breastfeeding took up most of my confinement time. I had to express the milk using an electric pump after failing to get a good yield using a manual one. However, as time goes by, the produce becomes less. It used to take half an hour for a bottle but now it’s down to only half a bottle in an hour! I still persevere, as I know mother’s milk is the best for my baby. I sometimes wish I had an extra breast so that there would be more milk for my baby. I can’t help but wonder why science has not created a way to mass-produce this good food. I am sure there could be a way to increase the hormones which induce the milk production. I also wonder why entrepreneurs have yet to make money out of selling mother’s milk. Since it is so precious, I am sure many mothers who fail to express milk would want their child to have it. Hubby has also wondered why cows are able to produce so much milk consistently. He wondered if gravity was a factor and asked me if I was willing to let him try milking me! Thank goodness he made an effort to make me laugh because stress could affect milk production.

One of the less tolerable confinement taboo would be bathing and hair washing. I was confined to only wiping my smelly, sweaty body with warm ginger water. Ginger water will help eliminate wind from my frail body and avoid ailments. Washing my hair was a definite no-no for the whole month. Poor Hubby has to put up with the stench reeking from my dandruff filled head! I could see a tinge of delight in his eyes during Bryan’s full moon when I was finally allowed to wash my hair. The hairdresser did a good job with my hair, but they too had funny rituals. They requested 2 ang pows, one for the lady who wash my hair and another for the salon owner. The former one is understandable, as it is already a torture to wash and blow-dry a head full of thick and natural curly hair, now she has to endure one that has gone unwashed for a month! I find the latter quite unreasonable. Reluctantly, I presented them with the ang pows, (incidentally the salon owner has a lot of ang pow packets in her drawer!!) as I did not want to cause a scene in the busy salon.

Another taboo/advice was to sleep a lot. Even if I don’t literally sleep, I had to lie on my back especially after food. Too much standing or walking around will slow down the healing process and weaken my feeble body. Sitting is still considered not good enough, as this would hurt my back. Being bedridden ensures that I don’t get backaches during my retirement years. I thought had no problem with this, as sleeping is my favorite pass time. However, having nothing to do for too long rendered my mind restless. I had to do something as I had so much free time in my hands. After all, I was taught that,“An idle mind is the devil’s workshop”. I began miss my friends and getting out of the house. I felt as though I was isolated from the rest of the world. The only access to the real world was through the television, my room window, the telephone and of course the internet. I miss my computer and emails so much that I defied this taboo for a couple of hours a day to access my emails, read the news, chat with my friends, transfer funds and paid the various utility bills. I now understand why Bill Gates calls his creation, Windows! During this period, it was one of the most important windows to the world outside the four insipid walls of my home!!

Aunty will be leaving tomorrow, marking the end of my confinement period. As I sigh with relieve and wave goodbye to all the taboos and rituals, I am a little saddened by the fact that it would also mean the end to my “freedom”, the closing of all windows to the world for the time being. The only window left open will my heart to cater to all Bryan’s needs. I would have to be a full time mother from now until the end of my maternity leave. So, this would be my last installment. With all the things I have to do, I would not be able to churn out a good read. I might return, after all the dust has settled, when mother in law is comfortable with babysitting Bryan. Meanwhile, I have go and express more milk. Till the next bulletin, good-bye and thank you for reading.

A mother’s Thoughts…. By Kelly Rivers 24/5/2002

A mother’s thoughts…. By Kelly Rivers 24/5/2002

Looking at the sight of my baby gives me a sense of satisfaction, yet with a tinge of fear. It’s hard to explain what I am feeling right now but it’s really overwhelming. Tears well up in my eyes. I cannot cry though. The old folks say it’s not good to cry during my confinement (postpartum) period, as this will affect my health. According to them, the postpartum period is when the mother is the weakest.

I just can’t help it though. The thought of Bryan being such a fragile little boy, embarking on his life journey, sends sparks of joy and tears. Part of me is so happy to see him finally here in this world, and yet another part of me worries so much for him. He is ever so dependent, so trusting of his mother. And I, being a new mother who is so inexperience in everything; from breastfeeding to nappy changing; want so much to give him the best, yet do not know how. The nine months of preparation has not really equipped me with the skills of being a good mother.

I remember the first time I brought him home from the hospital. He slept for 6 hours straight. I thought nothing of it as the nurses thought me to feed him only when he cries. Little did I know that a jaundice baby would be too lethargic to wake for feeds. Luckily my sister called me soon enough to alert me to wake him for feeds before he goes into hypoglycaemia (low blood sugar level). His jaundice has gone now, after a few days in the morning sun and plenty of fluids. Thank goodness for that as it had me worried sick for a couple of days.

Initially, I was adamant to fully breastfeed him. I didn’t know that it would be such hard work and time-consuming! Furthermore, my baby gets frustrated very fast. The nurses at the hospital say that he is very lazy and would not suck hard at my breast to get his milk. Thus, he prefers to be bottle-fed where he doesn’t have to work so hard for food. So in order to satisfy his appetite, I resorted to pumping my milk out into a bottle for him. This is better for the both of us as it is faster and I know how much I am feeding him. My friends tell me that pumping milk could lead to exhaustion of the milk sooner but I am willing to take my chances. As he needs to be fed every 3 hours, I have alternate with formula milk to satisfy his ever-growing appetite.

Now that my own wound has almost completely healed, I worry about his umbilical cord wound. It’s almost 3 weeks now and it has not detached. Books have advised that it should drop off on it’s own by the first week. Consultations with doctors and friends assured me that it should drop off on it’s own. I can only pray that it would drop off soon so that it would not lead to infection and further complications. Meanwhile, I would have to keep it dry and disinfect it with surgical spirit every time he takes a bath.

Watching him have his bath every morning is a joy. He seems to enjoy playing with water, as he would smile a little whenever we put him into the tub. This month, Bryan would be bathed by the confinement lady (an experienced babysitter hired for a month to take care of the baby and the postpartum mother). According to Chinese believe, the postpartum mother should not touch water too much. Failing to obey this would lead to arthritis or rheumatism for the mother in later years. As such, this task will be taken over by his father later once the confinement period of a month is over. The father has been keeping an eye on how the confinement lady washes his son. My mother-in-law is quite worried though. She has not been caring for babies for a long time now and she’s not sure if she could carry out the task when his son is not around. Ah well, everyone worries for little Bryan but he is still ever so trusting that we could and we would do a good job for him.

All these challenges build character, both for Bryan, his father and myself. His father is currently too busy with his work to worry about all these domestic needs. However, deep inside him, I know he loves his son very much. Every night when he comes home, he would sit by the cot to sing to him even though he is asleep.

Brandon was there when I was in labour and he was there to witness how Bryan was born. He could not explain what he felt when he first set his eyes on Bryan. He was too shock to say anything when he saw Bryan all covered with blood, crying in the hands of the doctor who brought him to this world. I had to jolt him into reality by asking him to snap photographs of his son! He wasn’t allowed to carry his son for the first few days as he was having a very bad flu then. Maybe that has set him back a little, as he must have felt rejected. Even now, he still has the jitters when he carries Bryan. He is worried that his rough hands might hurt Bryan. I just hope that they manage to bond well.

As I write, Bryan is sound asleep in his bassinet beside me. The serenity that surrounds his innocent little face, the tenderness of his tiny chest going up and down with every breath, and the comfort of him being swaddled in a bundle, reminds me that all the sacrifices, and all the hard work is worthwhile. What will become of him later in life? Will he be good, will he be handsome or will he be rich? Well, Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see.