Happy New Year!

Goodbye 2012, hello 2013!!

What a year. And the world didn't end. ;-) For me, 2012 was a good year. A great year, in fact. My last and 4th baby was born. Safely, healthy and perfect. My second daughter. How happy can one be? Sometimes I think I'm ontop of the world, there's nothing more that could make me happier. And then something happens. Something like the birth of a child, and I realise now I'm as happy as one can be! It was a beautiful year. The first half was spent in a haze of nausea, but it was all worth it. Every second of 9 months of nausea. I see so many people comment online that "now their family is complete". That's how I feel. At long last, I can say that in all honesty. I have the children I wanted. I'm done with pregnancy and babies and having more children. Because I'm happy with those I have. I'm satisfied. I'm complete. I'm so so so grateful that I too could say that and mean it. I think if given unlimited funds and health, I could've and would've had more babies. But for what I was given, I'm very happy and grateful to have 4 children. And two of each. How blessed am I!

So 2012 was a good year. At the end of 2011, I was tired. I was nauseous. I was done for. The pregnancy came too quickly after Boeboe's operation and the 2-year long road I had to travel to get to that point. Even though 2011 was a good year, and turned out well, I couldn't face it. I couldn't see it and deal with it. But now I can. I can look back at both 2011 and 2012 and realise we had 2 good years. We have so much to be thankful for. Four healthy, beautiful, exceptional children. Each with their own difficult paths that they had to travel. But we travelled it step by step, with God as our lead, and we ended up in green pastures. I'm so thankful. For Boeoboe's operation. For the success it was. For the seizing of Mr N's epilepsy - holding thumbs! So far so good. Three months without medication and no seizures that we've noticed. For Monkeyman's improvement of school. For Peanut's birth. So much we're grateful for in 2012.

So what will 2013 bring? I hope it will be a quite year. An easy year. A non-medical year!! A year where we won't need to see specialists and doctors and hospitals and such. I know it's not possible. Boeboe and Peanut both need regular check-ups. But as long as it's just check-ups and nothing more. We can only pray and hope and believe that that would be 2013. And we'll take it day by day, enjoy Peanut's first year with her, and be a family of 6!!

I hope that everyone that frequent this blog will also have a wonderful, peaceful and good 2013. Happy New Year!!!

Not much news here. It's school summer holidays, and the kids went to visit their grannies for the week. All but the baby, of course. Sounds like they're having a lovely time! We got their report cards when the schools closed, and they both did really, really well. We're absolutely amazed at how much Boeboe improved. Not just improved, but excelled!!! She especially did well in her maths, which pleases us no end. If you can do maths, you can do anything in life! We're slowly accepting that all our worries about her were unfounded. She just needed time. There was too much pressure on her, too soon. She would've done better earlier if she was in school 20 years ago. But with today's fast pace and work overload, she needed more time to find her feet and get the work under her belt. I'm so grateful. Very very grateful.

Mr N also did well like always. Exceptionally well, and we're proud of him. He studied hard this year. But to be honest, what makes us prouder than his good marks, is the fact that he READS. He read the Harry Potter books in about 1 month, in between the exams!!! So he was only allowed to read evenings and a bit over the weekends when he was done studying. Still, he finished ALL 7 books in little over a month! What's really amazing to us, is not only the fact that these books have a total of over 3000 pages, but it's all in ENGLISH! That means, he read the books in his 2nd language, not his home tongue!!!! Translations of the books are available in his home tongue, but we've always believed it's best to read books (when possible) in the language it was written. So we decided long ago to wait until Mr N can read the books in English before giving it to him. A while ago he read a handful of Roald Dahl books. About 2 or 3 a week. So when he ran out, he asked me what can he read next. I scrolled through my Kindle books and said, well, what about the first Harry Potter? I just assumed it would take him weeks or months, by which time we'd have found some more books for him. Well, a few days later he declared it finished and asked if he could read the 2nd one! I never thought him ready for book 4 or 6 or 7, with all the sadness and violence in the books, but he flew through them and handled everything beautifully. We spoke about it a bit, and like me, the problem with him is that he's visual. He can handle reading the written word, but he can't handle seeing the same thing on TV. I was so happy about this, because I was secretly starting to think he's too sensitive for a boy his age. Now I know, it's just tv that upsets him. Though, now that he's read the books, he can also handle the movies. He just looks away on the worst parts, which is fine by me, since I too look away, LOL!

Monkeyman isn't doing so well. When I took him to the pead a few months back, we made the decision to take him off his reflux medication. He's been on it since he was 6 weeks old. He was never diagnosed via a ph study though. I took him for his 6-week checkup those days, and told the pead that I'm pretty sure he has reflux. Based on our family history of GERD, she put him on reflux meds and he immediately shown huge improvements. Since then, he's been on the medication. But most babies do actually outgrow their baby reflux. We just assumed that he wouldn't, because the elder 2 kids was diagnosed with GERD when they were 4 and almost 2. Which in children means they would never outgrow it. And with my GERD diagnoses, it seemed a given that Monkeyman thus also had GERD and not just baby reflux. Anyway, so me and the pead thought lets see if Monkeyman will be fine without his medication. Unfortunately, he's been off it for about 2 months now, and has had about 4 colds! Very light colds, but still. They all started with a painful throat, his voice croaks and then 2 days or so later he would have a runny nose for a day or 2. Then he'll be over it. So clearly his immune system works well, but the reflux is attacking his throat, making it a weak spot for germs. I'm pretty sure it's the reflux, because he usually gets about 1 or 2 colds a YEAR, and it's now summer in our country, when my children usually don't even get ill. So to get 4 colds in 8 weeks is severely abnormal for Monkeyman. We now have to make the decision to either just put him back on his medication, or give him a ph study first to see if and how bad he has reflux (GERD), or put him through a gastroscopy and check how his throat and stomach valve looks. He's the same age now as what Mr N was when he had his first gastroscopy. I'm loath though to put Monkeyman through yet another sedation. I'm a bit sad that it seems that Monkeyman too will be diagnosed with GERD. My poor kids. :-(

It's going well with Peanut. She still sleeps extremely well at night. Usually she has a 6-hour stretch, then a 3-4 hour stretch, then another 2 hour stretch at night. Bliss!! During the day she would mostly sleep well, but sometimes her naps are cut short and then she'll clearly not be happy until she can nap again. She's rarely difficult though. Even when tired, she would just moan a bit to let you know. She doesn't cry easily. I do try to anticipate her needs though, so she doesn't really have the need to cry. Her cues are very easy to read.

Here's some pics of the last month or so:

My big-eyed baby girl! She's a serious little thing, LOL.

But fortunately she does sometimes share her lovey smile with us!

Sleeping for the last time in her carry cot (in the caravan while we're camping).

Having fun in the sun!

Me and my gorgeous 2 little girls.

Drying off in the hot summer sun.

Our big monkeyman! He loves his glasses...

Boys playing together

Our absolutely gorgeous little "organpipes" (from the tallest to the smallest)

It's Christmas time!!!!

Adoring her little baby sister

Also loving his little sister

My beautiful babies

Mr N in the tree

Best Christmas prezzie I could ever have asked for

A tribute to my mother

I miss my mother. I always miss her this time of the year. Naturally. I wonder if one ever stop missing his or her parents? I was very close to my mom. People tend to think that if you lost a parent, you weren't that close to that parent. Because they can't imagine that it could happen to them. Loosing their parent. So if they're that close to their mom, it is simply unimaginable to loose her. Thus, you couldn't have been that close to yours, because the pain would be too much to bear.

Unfortunately for those that think like that....yes, you CAN be that close to your mom, and still loose her. And yes, sometimes, especially in the beginning, the pain IS too much to bear. But somehow, with the grace of God, I got through it. And still get through it. The pain is never gone. I have acceptance, yes. I don't cry anymore every time I look at a photo of her or think about her. But it's still a hole in my heart. It will always be a hole in my heart. But, 11 years down the line, it's bearable. The missing stays, though. It never gets any better. I still wish I could phone her and tell her about the horrible day I had. Or email her and get that twinge of excitement when I see there's a reply. I wish for her wise words to sooth me, her support to carry me through the hard times.

My mom was a very special person. Yes, I know, everyone says that. But as a person, as a human being, mine was really, really special. She had what we call in my mother tongue, a depth of spirit that was unequaled. I've never came across anyone else that had such depth, such soul, such beauty. She was an intellectual, and she understood human nature like no one else. She had empathy for the worst kind of human beings. Whereas I saw things and people as black and white, she saw them in shades of grey. She understood how I felt, but she had empathy for everyone. Good or bad. She could summarise people immediately and knew where they came from. She understood what shaped people.

These unique abilities made her the perfect highschool teacher. She didn't work in the normal school environment though. She went to teach the poorest of the poor. Communities that had very little to give. Very little support. Very little going for them. And she threw her whole weight behind her job. She gave everything. Her mind, her body, her soul. I can't remember much of the mourning service we gave her after her death. But what I do remember, was the beautiful words that her collegue spoke. You could hear how much he (they) valued her at the school. How much she meant to them. Professionally and personally. And how much they're going to miss her.

My mother loved music. Apart from her family and work, this was her big love. She loved Handle, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Schubart, etc. All the big composers. For relaxation, she would lie down in the afternoons, and for an hour or two, she would put her music on loud and just gave herself over to the music. It calmed her. It restored her soul. I could never get into classical music like she did. Unfortunately. Her other hobby was sewing. She made most of my clothes, and allot of her own. She also loved to study. I lost track with the number of degrees and majors she got behind her name. She loved geography the most. When I think of her, I remember her sitting by her desk, plotting the topography maps laid out. She studied through the post. The number of times I went to her desk to kiss her goodnight.... such bittersweet memories. And flowers. I can't see a beautiful flower, without thinking about my mom. She loved, loved, loved flowers. ALL flowers. She planted as much as she could afford, and tended to them like a mother. She would adorn her home with them. She loved putting welcoming flowers in all the rooms for visitors. When I developed severe hayfever from flowers, she would pick those that affected me least, and put one or two in my room. She simply couldn't NOT welcome me home without a flower in my room.

And the sea. Waenhuiskrans, to be precise. That's where her heart was.

I wish she could see me and my children today. I wish she could hold my babies, and get to know them as little people. See how unique and special they are. She would've LOVED them, I know. She would've most definitely have had a very special relationship with Mr N, because he sees the world like I do, and my views made for lots of interesting conversations between me and my mom. She would've had the same with mr N. She also would've loved seeing Boeboe. My spitting image. How special would that have been for her, to see her own baby repeat in her granddaughter. She would've been so please to see me as a stay at home mom. And even more pleased if she saw I had 4 children. She too had four children. And she always thought that I wouldn't be able to have as many. Because times have changed and all that jazz. She would've loved seeing me defy the odds and be as bold as to go and get what I want. To make my dreams come true. It would've pleased her no end. All that she wanted for us, was that we would've turned out well-balanced adults who live productive and happy lives. It would've made her very proud to see that that was exactly what we all did, in the end. It would've also please her very much to see all of us living so close together as we're doing. To see us support each other, care for each other. She would've loved seeing the bonds that formed between her grandchildren.

I do believe that she's with us, always. That she DOES see them. That she does get to know them, even if it's not with us in body. But in spirit, I know she's with us. I feel her sometimes. And sometimes I can even feel her emotions. I know, that sounds strange. But it's what I feel. I miss her so much. She was my rock, my support. The one person that didn't care what I say or do. That was always there for me. That always understood me. I'm fortunate that my husband and sister covers some of the hole in me. But nothing can ever take her place. I loved her like I loved no other human being for 22 years, until I met my husband and had babies. For 22 years, my mother was my whole world. The horror of loosing her...it left a permanent scar on my heart.

It hurts me to think that one day, my children will also experience this pain. But I hope that like me, they would find peace after their mother's death. That they'd have acceptance. And that they too would think of me with love, respect, longing and a sense of all encompassing support and care. I hope that they'd get over the initial sharp pain of loosing me, and then find solace in the life I lead. That they too would know I was ready. That I had the life I chose. That I was happy and had no regrets.

End of year depression

Yeah, it's that time of the year again. Silly season coming up. I love December holidays, and I love Christmas. Yes, it's commercialised. Yes, people tend to forget the deeper meaning of it. Yes, people misuse and abuse. That doesn't mean it's wrong to love Christmas. Or wrong to give gifts. Or wrong to prepare beautiful meals. I adore Christmas, and spoiling the children! For one day a year, I try to forget that we're not rich. That kids should not get everything they want or ask for. That kids should learn money doesn't fall from the trees. For one day, I want to spoil them SILLY. I want to see the joy on their faces when they open a gift they really wanted. Or when they see the stocking that I filled with small toys and treats they never get to have "because it's too expensive".

But November....that's the month that depresses me. I don't know why. It probably started when I was a child. Exams, stress, knowing I'd have to say goodbye to my friends soon when we leave on our 6-week long seaside holiday. It all contributed to me hating Novembers. To this day. :-( Once December starts, I'll get into the holiday spirit, the children will be done with school, exams and homework and afterschool activities would be over, and I'll have a ball and be happy as larry. But November...I hate Novembers. I'm constantly sad, close to tears and feeling sorry for myself. Fortunately I know it's seasonal and I'll be fine again SOON.

Isn't it strange how Christmas seems to bring the best and the worst out in people? Some would give to charities, where they tend to forget the needy during the year. Some would hand bonusses out to their employees. Some would go to extra lengths to see and commit to family. But then you get the inevitable family twists during the silly season as well. Some would hate having to spend so much money. Others would hate to spend so much time. And some would hate to spend so much emotionally. And some would give their last sent, their last free hour, and all their love and commitment, to others. I, myself, am very guilty of not wanting to spend my time. Time to me is precious, much more so than money. It's easy to hand someone a R100 note. But to go look for a gift, now that's not so easy to do. It costs me time I don't always have, and it costs me emotionally and physically because I'll have to deal with at least 2 kids in the shop, sometimes 4!

I bumped into a friend's friend in the shop earlier this week. She gave one look at a tantrumming Boeboe, a teary-eyed Monkeyman, a helpful Mr N and a very tired Peanut, and declared me brave! She was shopping without her kids. She had a choice, you see. She has a full-time domestic/nanny at home that can look after her toddler, and her older child was still in school. My kids came out early due to the exams, and it just so happened that the best time to go shopping was after school came out, not before, because of Peanut's nap. At the very best, I have to take 1 baby to the shops. If I plan it well and are able to, I try to go while Monkeyman is in playschool (which is once a week) and the older 2 in their school. That leaves me only Peanut to deal with in the shop. She's usually not difficult, but can't last more than about 45min then she's either tired or hungry (or both!). Because she already spent about an hour in the car and at Monkeyman's school by this stage. Space in the trolley is also limited because of the carseat in which she sits. She's now too heavy for me to carry while we shop. And she hates the sling. I should try out other carriers but they're so expensive in my country. I already own 2 others, but the one is for bigger babies and the other is just awful in its design, so it gives me backache. I can't spend any more money on more carriers.

In any case, so that means if I plan it well, I have about 45min once a week to shop, with 1 baby in tow. Otherwise, I have to take Monkeyman with. He's usually very good in the shops, but it does add to the fact that I need to keep an eye on him as well. If Peanut's naps doesn't work out, then I not only have to take a baby and a small child, but also the bigger 2 children along. You'd think it wouldn't be an issue, but man oh man oh man, Boeboe is DIFFICULT in shops!!! She will CONSTANTLY ask me: "Mommy, can we have this cookies?", "Mommy, can we have a chocolate?", "Mommy we haven't had these sweeties in forever!!" - all of this in a whiney, LOUD voice. And then when I say no, or her brother brush against her shoulder or Monkeyman step on her toe by accident, she would throw a massive tantrum. She won't worry AT ALL about who looks at her or what the other people think of her (and me!). She wants what she wants and she wants it NOW. So there I am, baby in the carseat in the middle of the trolley, groceries stacked precariously all around her. A 4-year old running circles around the trolley trying not to offend his big sister by accident while trying desperately to make her smile at him, a tantrumming 9-year old that behaves worse than a 2-year old, and an 11-year old that is a PLEASURE to take along. Mr N....ah, my little helper. He's amazing these days. He'll carry the nappybag for me, push the trolley when needed, look out for Monkeyman, comfort Peanut if she's getting tired, fetch the breadrolls from the other side of the shop for me when I realised I forgot it, etc. So yes, to tag Mr N along is just pure bliss. Even though he CAN be demanding as well by seeing things he want.

So when my friend's friend declared me brave, I told her No, don't make a mistake. I'm NOT brave. I'm STUPID. I'm so stupid to take FOUR kids shopping. Any mother must be stupid to do that to herself. But sometimes, I just don't have a choice, you know? I don't have someone to help me look after my kids. I don't have a mother anymore. I don't have a close-by, non-working family member. My husband works full-time. My friends have their own little ones to take care of.

I wanted 4. I can handle 4. But it aint easy every day. Some times I get the impression that people think that because I had a 4th, I must find having kids extremely easy, so they don't need to sympathise with me. They don't need to feel sorry for me. They don't need to offer me any help. I must be having everything under control, because I chose to have 4! I wonder what gave them that impression? Don't get me wrong. I LOVE having 4 kids. And I do not find motherhood to be so difficult, that I don't want to repeat it with another child, or that I wish it over with. But that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes suffer, trying to handle or deal with 4 kids. Of which 2 are special needs. Though, Mr N is doing so well, I don't think he really qualifies as special needs anymore, LOL. But ya, 4 kids are a handful. It's NOT easy.

So life with four kids are BUSY!! I can't deny it, however much I'd like to make it sound as if I could easily handle another few kids, it's a fact that 4 kids = HARD WORK. I don't regret having Peanut for even 1 minute. I don't resent her for adding to my workload. Instead, knowing it's my very, very last, I enjoy every last bit of having a small baby. But it's a fact...babies are hard work. And adding 3 other demanding kids into the mix, and you get a mommy that's overworked and overstressed and needs a holiday!!

Mr N is busy with exams. I just do not have the time to spend on him that I wanted to, at the moment. So he's mostly left to his own devices. Studying. I do try and keep him to a schedule, and help him whereever I find a few minutes. Fortunately he's a very selfsufficient little boy. And he usually does well, even though he's a slow learner. There's little over a week left, then he'll be all done with grade 5!! Can't believe I'll have a grade 6-er in my house soon. Wow. Just 2 years left, then I have a child in highschool! Scary.

Boeboe. Well, she's Boeboe. Tantrums, after tantrums after tantrums. I'm so TIRED of fighting with her! She's ALWAYS in trouble for something or other. Just when I feel the anger leaves me, she does the next stupid thing. Sigh. I hate feeling angry at her ALL. THE. TIME. I love her so so much, I want her to feel it, to know it. But how can she, when I'm CONSTANTLY fighting with her over something? But can I just drop it, and let her get away with awful behaviour or tantrums or not doing homework, just because I'm tired of being a parent? Of being the disciplinarian? I try to look the other way when I notice a small transgression. But some things are non-negotiable and I simply can't overlook them! Like lying. Or hurting your brother. Or screaming like a banshee when your babysister tries to sleep. She's tired. I know that. It's every time a problem when we reach the end of term. All we can do now is cope until it's holidays and she can rest and de-stress.

I'm not sure if I mentioned the new product I found for her. It's like a pantyliner, but thicker and more absorbent and shaped for children's bodies. It works like a charm for her! Much better, and she absolutely loves it. It's expensive, about half the price of a nappy, but I don't even mind, because it keeps her underwear (mostly) clean and dry. And it also seems to absorb some of the smell, as long as it's not a big accident.

Monkeyman is taking a bit strain. I don't think I spend enough time with him at the moment. I'm hoping that as Peanut grows, life will get easier and would leave me with a little bit more time to spend on Monkeyman. Usually, babies are much easier (for me) once they reach about 6 months old. The next 2 months would also be easier on Monkeyman while they're all on holiday. Having fun, and having siblings around him constantly to play with. And no homework and exams that takes up their time. And when they're back in school in January, Peanut should be in a routine of napping once in the morning and once in the afternoon, which should leave me with time in the morning to spend with Monkeyman. He's really such a lovely little boy. Even though he's taking strain, he's still such a good boy. Rarely any upsets with him. When he's tired at night, he doesn't listen to us as well as he should, but that's understandable. He's doing really well with school now, after the dip he went through in September. He loves it, though he still refuses to participate in the singing and dancing. I stay for about 20 min and then leave him all happily playing or eating his snack.

Peanut, my baby. She's also doing very very well. Weighs 6kg already!! That's more than double her birth weight, and she's not even 4 months yet. She got her last set of vaccinations today. Poor thing, but thank goodness it's now done for, for quite a while. She's such a lovely little lady. Her smiles are so precious. She doesn't laugh out loud much. And we struggle a bit with her naptimes at the moment, which is what's keeping me so busy! Some days are very, very good and others are just horrible. It has happened numerous times in the past 2 weeks that she sleeps nothing for 5 hours straight. And then it has happened numerous times that she's barely awake for 2 or 3 hours all day long. Weird. On the days she doesn't want to sleep, I would rock and carry and wear and sing and walk her all day long. It's TIRING. Those days are difficult, because Monkeyman would feel neglegted and the older 2 kids would take advantage. Not doing their homework, being too loud, throwing balls in the house, etc. And my tether would be SO short already from trying to get a very overtired baby to sleep. Fortunately, Peanut doesn't cry much. Even after not sleeping for 5 hours, she would be okay. Just giving a little moan every now and then that I know means "help mommy, I'm tired!". Poor thing had such a day yesterday, only sleeping twice for 30 minutes each time in about 7 hours. And today she's falling asleep like a champion. I put her down, give her dummy and within 2 minutes she's asleep. And sleeping for hours and hours. Only waking up for milk. Poor thing must be exhausted. Fortunately, she still sleeps well at night. Always having one long stretch of 5-7 hours, and thereafter waking up every 2-3 hours for milk. And she's such a good breastfeeding baby. She only drinks for about 5 minutes, and falls asleep right away once she's done every night. So I'm not really tired from lack of sleep. Just physically tired from carrying a baby almost constantly all through out the day, and emotionally from dealing with 4 kids. I have to say, I absolutely LOVE carrying my baby around. Or "wear" her, as other people has labelled it. I love having her close, feeling her warm body, smell her babysmell, and see the happiness and contendness in her eyes when she's close to me.

Not the best photo, but it does show how FAT my little baby got! Too cute!

 

Having a ball bathing the doll in Peanut's bath, just after Peanut was bathed.

Dressed warmly during a cold day, for a walk outside with Daddy



Beautiful Boeboe in the dress we bought for her, for Peanut's Christening.

Adoring her Monkeyman brother. :-)

 

One in a million...

Firstly, for those that may not have noticed. I got some interest from people that just quickly wanted to read about Boeboe. They might not want to scroll through all the years' posts to try and find out what happened to Boeboe. You can now just click on the 2nd tab underneath the top photo, on "Boeboe's story". I still want to make it look neater later on. In there is a short version of what Boeboe went through, and links to the most relevant posts if you're interested in learning more.

So while looking at the old posts, I read the one about her surgery. And I relived through some of the emotions. The one moment I haven't written too much about yet, was the one that stood out to me more than any other moment the past 4 years with Boeboe. It was the moment the neurosurgeon came out of theatre to give us an update on Boeboe's untethering surgery. He told us that when he opened her up, he couldn't find anything that tethered the cord. The filum looked normal, not fatty or enlarged. Very thin in fact. And he couldn't cut it because there was too many nerves entangling it.

The feelings that filled my heart at that moment....it was indescribable. Horror, dread, unbelief, despair, but most of all, guilt.

When Boeboe was about 4 or 5 years old, I heard about a friend who was diagnosed with Spina Bifida Occulta. Before that, I only knew that Spina Bifida was something that you fear newborn babies might have, and that it meant something bad. I've never met anyone with Spina Bifida before and knew nothing about it. I was amazed that it could apparently be diagnosed years or decades later as well. Usually, in that instance, it would be Spina Bifida Occulta. Meaning, it was hidden. So the backbones have an opening in them that never developed fully, but the skin was/is closed, unlike when you have Spina Bifida (open vertebrae and open skin in the back - literally a big hole in the back). They estimate that Spina Bifida happens in about 1 out of 10 000 people (depending on the country). They also estimate that Spina Bifida Occulta happens much, much more often - probably about 5-20% of people (different studies came to different conclusions). The far majority of people with Spina Bifida Occulta will never have any problems. Most won't even know they have it, except when it's picked up by chance on a x-ray.

A small few people though, will have not only Spina Bifida Occulta, but also the accompanying tethered cord. And most people with tethered cord will develop symptoms at some point. This is the goal of the untethering operation. To halt the inevitable progression of these symptoms. With the hope that some of the nerves would not have been damaged beyond recovery, so that there will be some improvement of the symptoms.

So there I stood next to my 7-year old daughter's hospital bed in the pediatric intensive care, rooted to that spot on the ground. The room started spinning around me and for the first time ever, I got tears in my eyes in front of a doctor. I've never cried in front of people if I can help it. Especially not about my babies, or in front of doctors. You may wonder why, there is certainly no shame to it. But for me, it's too intense, too personal, to degrade it by crying. Even when my baby was in NICU after birth, struggling for every breath and fighting to stay alive, I didn't cry. But here I stood, and the dr just told me Boeboe's cord wasn't tethered after all. Nothing I've ever experienced, came close to what I felt at that moment.

Because it was my fault. There's no 2 ways about it. I brought this down on my daughter. It's all on me. Nobody else can take the blame. I've put my daughter through unnecessary back surgery. Not cutting her tummy open. Or her thigh. Or her hand. Her BACK. I let them cut her back open. Cut the dura open. Expose the most sacred, sterile piece of her body. A direct link to her brain. All the functions that make her body move, react, work. I did that.

When I heard about my friend having Spina Bifida Occulta when Boeboe was age 4 or 5, I had sympathy, and for a fleeting moment thought "thank goodness that's not Boeboe's problem" - or is it? I couldn't shake the thought, so I googled it. And decided no, it can't be. So I let it slide. Then, when she was 6 I took her to a urologist. She turned Boeboe over on the table and then showed me a very flat indent in her back. Large, about 10cm's. It was triangular in shape. To me and all other doctors after this moment, it looked normal. But this urologist said - that looks like possible Spina Bifida. It was as if everything came together at that moment. As if it clicked in my brain. I just knew. It was as if I've been waiting for it. For that moment.

I went on the internet again and I started extensive researching into this condition. And with the help of one particular forum, I basically self diagnosed my daughter a few months later. I believed she had a tethered cord, even though x-rays showed she didn't have Spina Bifida Occulta. So I went to the orthopediac surgeon who mentioned doing an MRI earlier the year. And yes, he was keen, so it was ordered. Two months later, I stood with the report in my hand. It was negative. Her MRI was clean. No visible tethered cord.

I was flabbergasted. I was so certain!! Everything pointed to it! All her symptoms. So back to the drawing board I went, and I learned about Occult Tethered Cord. These days, some neurosurgeons believe that not all tethered cords are picked up on the MRI. They believe that sometimes it is hidden - thus, Occult Tethered Cord. And again...I knew. This is it!

Unfortunately, in my small country, this isn't something that happens to every 2nd person. Even having a tethered cord was rare. Occult tethered cord....well, you had to be one in thousands upon thousands. I read that about 5% of tethered cords are probably hidden. Since Tethered cord happens to about 1 in 10 000 people, it means about 5 in 100 000 must have an occult tethered cord. And even much, much less would have an occult tethered cord in the absence of Spina Bifida Occulta.

One neurologist told us "It would take a very brave neurosurgeon" (that would operate for tethered cord with no MRI evidence or Spina Bifida Occulta). Well, we found that neurosurgeon, because I was looking for him. I actively went out to search for a neurosurgeon that would believe in occult tethered cord. Because that is what I believed my daughter had. I have no medical training. I googled. Yes, there, I said it. I googled. Crucify me.

So when that brave neurosurgeon told me that he couldn't find a tethered cord inside her back, I was flattened. I felt like the worst mother ever. I felt like I must've had something like Munchousen by Proxy. That I wanted something to be wrong with my babygirl. That I was actively looking for someone to put my daughter through hell, because I got a kick out of it. I was the one that diagnosed her first. I was the one that pushed for the surgery. I was the one that told my husband what was wrong with our daughter. He knew I was a very hands-on mother, and he knew I was very good with researching (even on the internet). So he trusted me implicitly and never doubted me. So when I pushed for the operation, he willingly went along with it, even though it broke his heart to put his daughter through it.

At that moment, hearing that it was all in vain, I felt deflated. My self esteem was crushed. I wasn't the supposedly good mother, the good advocate for my daughter. I wasn't the good researcher, the good medical "student". I was wrong. I was WRONG. And it meant my daughter was in immense pain unnecessarily. It meant so much upheavel to everyone. The in-laws that had to come stay over to look after the boys. It meant my poor monkeyman, who had only just turned 3, had to be without his mommy. It meant my Boeboe had to miss school for no reason. All the preparation we went through. Everything was in vain. All that money we spent. The money our medical insurance spent. All in vain. So I cried. I got tears in my eyes for my poor daughter that bravely went through the operation, even though she was absolutely TERRIFIED before it. Because mommy said it will help her. And now, mommmy's going to have to say "sorry my baby, I was wrong, you won't be better off after this operation. It was all in vain."

I have never felt that huge a burden on my shoulders as at that moment. So much mother's-guilt. So much despair. There was nothing else for us. Nothing else we could try. This was our last chance. We had nothing left but accept that this will be Boeboe's life. Full-on incontinence with no cause and no cure. No miracle for us. I failed. I failed my daughter. I failed my husband. And I failed myself.

We decided that evening that we will not tell Boeboe the truth. That the operation was a big huge failure. We told her that the operation was over. And when she asked if the rubber band (what she called the filum) was cut, we didn't tell her no. We didn't lie, but we would talk around the question. Say something like "the operation is over, everything is fine, the dr did what he could". She believed it was a success from our words. We couldn't face telling her the truth so shortly after she was cut open.

So when we realised 3-4 days later, that after all, a miracle DID happen in that theatre, that the cord was indeed somehow tethered and now it was untethered after the operation, Boeboe believed it was because the filum was cut. We never corrected her. One day, I will explain it all to her. For now, she believes the dr fixed her and that makes her happy. You might think it's a placebo effect then. It is not. Both the neurosurgeon and her phsychologist assured us that it is impossible to have such major physical improvements at that age, without the cord having to be tethered and now being untethered. So yes, afterall...the cord was tethered. Most definitely so. And now it's untethered. After all those emotions I went through, it turned out that I wasn't wrong. That I didn't fail my daughter and husband. That I did good. That I was the best advocate for my daughter after all. That all those hours and hours of researching tethered cord, was worth it. I wasn't wrong. And my daughter benefitted from my beliefs. From my research. From me fighting to get this surgery for her. I didn't have to feel guilty anymore. I could feel proud. I could be proud. Of Boeboe, and of myself. I wasn't wrong. She DID have an occult tethered cord. What I WAS wrong about, is how very special Boeboe was. She wasn't one in a thousand. Or even just one in ten thousand that has a tethered cord. She wasn't even one in 100 000 that has an occult tethered cord with tight or fatty filum. No, she is one in a million, who had a tethered cord that was tethered to the dura at the S2-S4 vertebrae, without Spina Bifida Occulta present. My beautiful, vivacious, special daughter - I should've known, she was one in a million, indeed. :-)

Sisterly love!

Wait and see...

Don't you just hate that term? I do. :-( It riles me. But it's also an unavoidable part of life. I'm not a patient person. Far from it. So to sit back and wait, is soooo difficult to do. I read the stories of some mothers that are pregnant with spina bifida babies. And they're told to "wait and see". There's absolutely nothing else to tell them, because they really, literally, have to wait and see. Until their baby is born. Until the baby's back opening is closed. Until the baby starts cruising around. Until baby needs pottytraining. Wait. And. See.

Those poor poor parents. To wait for months, not knowing if your baby will be okay. What the extend of the damage might be. How baby's back will look. How much pain baby will be in after the operation. How long baby will be in the hospital. So many unknowns. So many fears and sadness. I can't imagine what those parents go through during their pregnancies. I heard many of the mommies say that pregnancy was the hardest part. I believe them.

I have my own waiting and seeing to do. I think all parents have to "wait and see". You don't know what the future holds. None of us knows if our children will reach adulthood safe and sound. But having a special needs child makes that "wait and see" just so much more difficult. There's so many added worries with a special needs child. Even with Mr N and his epilepsy, I don't worry as much as his dad does. His dad is worried if he'll be able to drive one day. With our appaling and sometimes non-existing public transport in SA, it's difficult to lead a full life if you can't drive.

But I digress. About the wait and see. Well, I have to wait and see if my youngest child might just develop symptoms of tethered cord. There's nothing much else I can do. Chances that she has a tethered cord is very, very slim. And I don't really believe that I should worry about it. So it's not going to influence my day to day life with her at the moment. But one day, when she's around age 2 or 3, she'll potty train. And I know I'm going to worry. Very much so. As I did and still do with Monkeyman. Pottytraining with Boeboe went so smooth. She caught on within 2 days. Two days of accidents! Just amazing. I was so proud and impressed and happy and relieved. Her symptoms of tethered cord wasn't clearcut. It wasn't like she had no control whatsoever. That would've been easier in some ways, because then the drs would've agreed with me sooner that something is wrong.

She had about 1 accident a week. And absolutely NO bowel accidents. For years. Only when she was 5, did I start to think there's something up. That means, for TWO YEARS we all thought her NORMAL. Yes, she had accidents, but that's NORMAL for children age 3 and 4, not true?!?! Mr N had accidents until age 4! And yes, Monkeyman still have accidents, both nr 1 and nr 2 accidents. And he's well on his way to age 5. Do I think he has tethered cord because of it? No. But does it contract my heart in fear everytime he does get an accident? Absolutely.

So theoretically, we won't know if Peanut has tethered cord until she's age 5 or so. Because she might have accidents after pottytraining, and she might not. And if she does, it might be normal and it might not be normal. Only at age 5 would we be able to say "yes, she's completely continent", or "no, she still has accidents". And diagnosing a tethered cord at age 5 only is risky. Very risky. I believe Boeboe would've been MUCH better off if she was operated before age 5, because her nr 2 accidents only started at age 4.5. So we might not have lost that function. But to operate a child for tethered cord because they have one accident a month?! So even if Peanut has accidents, would she get help in time?

It's easy to say "wait and see". But the logistics of what that might entail...it's difficult. We can wait and see. We have to. We don't have a choice. But what if we wait and see and it turns out too late to save bowel function like it did in Boeboe's case? What then? But alas, we don't have a choice. We can try to be proactive by getting an ultrasound, but I've read up on it and I'm not sure if it's worth it at this point. They miss so much with it in any case, will it really make me stop worrying? Boeboe's tethered cord wasn't even picked up on MRI. Chances that it could've been picked up on Ultrasound when she was a tiny baby...is slim to none.

Something interesting. I watched an old video of Boeboe when she was in NICU after birth. Her dad was filming her very first bath when she was about a week old. The nurse was drying her, helping me. And on the video you can hear me ask the nurse "what's this on her back, is it okay?" or something to that effect. I forgot about that, until I heard it on the video. Unfortunately it's not filmed, her back. But I do remember what bothered me. I noticed it a few days after birth when I was allowed to change her nappy. There was a tiny dimple or bump (can't remember precisely, I seem to remember it was a shallow dimple). But what bothered me and prompted me to ask, was the colouring of it. It was yellow. A shiny yellow. Clear as the sky. Very obvious. It wasn't a bruise or anything I've seen before. Just a small yellow mark on her back. The nurse of course dismissed it as nothing. So I ignored it. It must've faded with time, I don't know when. I'm pretty sure it wasn't there around age 1 or so anymore. But it does make one think, doesn't it?

So yes, we have to wait and see with Peanut. Her back might be fine, or maybe one day I'm going to say..."yes, her butt was crooked at birth but we hoped it meant nothing". But, let's hope that at age 5 I can rather say..."phew, thank goodness she's pottytrained and has no signs of tethered cord!!"

Something else I was thinking about. I wondered why is it that when a mom mentions her baby's birth defect, or a medical diagnoses on the internet forums, people always say "it'll be fine". They give virtual hugs and comfort, and then says "don't worry, baby will be fine". Is that what a mom wants to hear? Because I don't. So maybe I'm the exception to the rule here? When I say "my daughter has tethered cord" I want people to say "oh my word, I'm so very sorry. Poor little girl. Wish that didn't happen to her. Her life must be tough in some ways." I want people to commiserate, to understand, to support and to get it. I don't want to hear "she'll be fine". I know she'll be fine. That's not my worry! My worry is this and now. I want people to get it that at THIS moment, I'm worried. At THIS moment, I struggle. Or that my daughter is struggling. That we're in pain, at THIS moment. I know we'll be fine. I'm an optimis at heart. Even though I'm also a big realist. So even though my logic can tell me the probable (possibly bad) outcome, I'd still see the good afterwards. So when I complain, I don't want to hear that we WILL be fine ONE DAY. I want people to understand that at this moment, I need to hear how awful it is. How horrible. How horrendous. And then I can accept it, get my optimism together and move on. But alas, I guess I'm in the very minority of parents that wants to hear how awful things are when I complain. Seems like most people just want to hear "it will be fine".

Enough for one day. :-) My baby will be fine, that I know. Even if we have to wait and see for 5 years if she'll be fine with or without a tethered cord.

Three months!!

Ah, life with a newborn. Beautiful, joyous, difficult, wondrous, challenging, fun, busy, exciting, time-consuming.......sure you catch my drift! I'm having the time of my life, but it does leave me with little time to myself. Our babygirl is turning 3 months this week. It's going very well with her. She's growing beautifully, picking up weight like a champ and has little to no upsets. She'll give me a difficult time once a week for an hour or two, and the rest of the time she's sleeping, drinking, playing, staring around her and smiling. Too adorable.

It's also going well in the rest of the household. Mr N just goes his usual quiet way. Monkeyman (and me!) has had a cold, but fortunately none of the rest. Monkeyman also had stiffness and pain in his neck, which made me wonder a bit about viral meningitis. I read that symptoms is similar to a cold, and can easily be mistaken for just that. A number of people probably never even knew they had meningitis! I did ask the nurse to look at him, but he was already on the upturn again, and still had painmeds in him. So obviously she couldn't find much fault, LOL. She just told me to keep an eye on him but she wasn't worried.

Poor peanut had her 2nd set of vaccinations. She takes it well, especially with the Emla I put on to numb the area. Today the one injection site is a hard, red lump though. :-( Makes me sad to put her through it all. She's still so little!!

Boeboe is doing well. Naughty and throwing tantrums like the queen bee. Her newest thing is stamping her foot when she doesn't like what I have to say. Gosh, it drives me up the walls!! I'm starting to wonder if she's ever going to completely stop with tantrums? Who still throws tantrums at 9 years old?!?!

Shame, the poor thing fell on her scar a few days ago. On the windowsill! Next to her bed. Which makes me suspect jumping on the bed! Which she knows she's not allowed to do. But ya, that's Boeboe for you! We took her to the neurosurgeon a week ago for her check-up. He was very happy with how she's healing and the improvements she has. He wants to send her for another MRI in 2 years time, just to make sure she doesn't retether during the growth spurts girls have at that time. I also asked him about my baby that has a very very slight crooked butt. Unfortunately he seemed a bit clueless on that. No help at all. :-( It's frustrating at times to live in such a small country!! No previous experience from the neurosurgeon that I can draw on. I still don't know what to do or think about my baby. I think believing everything is fine is probably the best at this point. Just enjoying her and not worry that we'll be the extremely unlucky family to have TWO children with tethered cord. Because even though there's a genetic link, I think it is very rare for that to happen. Her chance to get epilepsy like her older brother is probably more likely than the tethered cord!!

Oh, that reminds me...Mr N is off his medication!!!!!! First time in 6 long long years. Longer on the meds than he was ever off them in his life. So far, so good. No seizures that we've noticed. His motion sickness (linked to seizures) is a bit worse though. And he does get the odd headache which we had to look out for. Unfortunately. But, it's still looking good I think. Let's hold thumbs! We see the neurologist again in about 6 months time and will then see if his EEG is clear.

So here's a few pics of the kids and me.

She begged for short hair, so I finally caved and cut it in a bob!

It's a girl!!

And she's almost 2 months already! :-) So much has happened since my last blog entry. I went into labour at 37 weeks one evening at 18:00. Contractions were 10 minutes apart, but so weak. I decided to wait until they either get stronger or closer together before I go to hospital. I didn't sleep much that night. Probably about 2 hours, but when I woke up, the contractions were irregular and still weak. I spent the morning in a bit of a daze. By noon, contractions were regular again. I went to fetch the kids from school and phoned the dr when I got home. She asked me to come in. A friend came to fetch the kids and I drove myself to the dr where she monitored me. She confirmed that there were loads of contractions, but very weak. I wasn't dialating, but she said she could feel the baby's hair through the uterus!! It was stretched unbelievably thin. Three days before, I had my check-up and the uterus wasn't that thin, and there were still loads of water and the placenta was calcified by a 2. Now, the water was almost all gone and the calcification grew to a 3. So the dr decided not to take any chances with that thin uterus and sent me off for the ceaser.

The ceaser went without any complications. Baby was born screaming. A very short, beautiful, brown-haired baby girl weighing 2.9kg. Soooo tiny and gorgeous. I didn't really believe the dr when she yelled "It's a little girl!!" I repeatedly asked "Really?", LOL. When the dr showed her to me, I just noticed how extremely short she, and especially her legs, were. So I still didn't believe she was a little girl. Until my husband asked me if I think the dr was lying to me!

When the older kids came to visit an hour later, we showed them the baby's face, and asked what they thought baby is. All three declared baby to be a boy, with Boeboe adding "but I wished he was a girl!". Then Grandma took baby, unwrapped her and peeked inside the nappy - crying "it's a girl"!! Boeboe's eyes just lit up and she kept saying "I can't stop smiling"! And she literally didn't. :) It was such a sweet moment. Mr N said "Oh no! I thought it was going to be a little brother!" but afterwards declared her to be such a beautiful, sweet little thing and that he was really glad to have her in our family. Monkeyman was just overjoyed for Boeboe's sake. He is so close to Boeboe, and he wanted her to be happy. So when she wished for a little girl, he wished for her wish to come true. Every now and then he'll tell me that he's so happy Boeboe got the sister she wished for. :) How sweet are these kids? Gosh, I love them to bits!!

Baby is the sweetest thing ever. She just sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. She had no jaundice problems like her siblings. And she needed no oxygen or any help. Though they had to test her sugar levels multiple times until it settled. She picks up weight beautifully, despite puking thoroughly after every feed, LOL. I'm pretty sure I must be the first mom ever who's happy that her baby throws up!! It's been such a struggle for me in my life, to throw up. With a non-operational valve, it's almost impossible. So what happens is that when I was supposed to throw up, the stomach acid and contends would just rise up in my throat, making me so nauseous but unable to throw up. The same has happened to all three the eldest kids. And especially with Boeboe, causing her sleep apnoa episodes when she was a baby. We call this condition silent reflux. It's awful, thinking that the milk and acid rose inside my baby's throat, lying there, literally choking her to death. With this baby, she throws up!!! Yes, it's been nice to almost never needing to clean vomit from any of the other 3 kids. Even when they had tummy bugs, they would rarely throw up much. But that's probably the only advantage. This baby now seems so normal. She can vomit! She doesn't have silent reflux!! She most definitely has reflux, but with that we can deal. I'm going to the pead in this week, hopefully returning with a script for medicine.

My own recovery has been difficult. I absolutely hate c-sections. I'm struggling with the inside stitches that gets infected constantly. Or maybe, like with Monkeyman's birth, I'm allergic to these stitches as well. I don't know the cause, but it's been awful and painful. But, we're getting there.

Here's my baby - Meet little Peanut!!

Peanut - Minutes old!

Mr N meets his brandnew babysister

Boeboe and her longed for sister!

Monkeyman and Peanut

Peanut - 2 hours old
 

Me and my 4 precious babies

 

Peanut and her siblings

Boeboe, monkeyman and Peanut

Peanut at about 6 weeks old

 

Peanut at 7 weeks - smiling!!

Peanut with her beloved dummy - everyone calls her Lisa Simpson because of the noisy and vigorous way she sucks her dummy!
 

 

Almost time...

Well, I'm guilty again of neglecting the blog. This pregnancy has really taken its toll on me. I hated being labelled an "older" mom, but I guess I have to accept it. My body IS older, and this wasn't an easy pregnancy. It was still my 2nd best, with my previous one (also in my 30s) my best. So I still maintain that my 2 pregnancies in my 20's were my absolute worst ones, and even the dr mentioned it. But ya, I'm done with it now hey. I'm tired, I'm achy, I'm sore, I'm ill, I'm nauseous, I'm just so over being pregnant. And yes, I'm in labour. Or preterm labour. I have been for 17 days. Can you believe that? 17 Days of having contraction after contraction after contraction. Ineffective, weak, but mostly regular contractions. Who has that?! Geez, my body is out of whack!

So it all started 17 days ago, when I noticed my usual braxton hicks has turned regular and extremely frequent. Timing them, they were every 3 min, for about a minute long. Not painful, just irritating. I thought I'll give it time to either go away or get painful, but alas, it stayed like that for 24hrs. So I went to the labour and delivery ward late the Sunday afternoon where they said baby's still doing beautifully. Heartrate of 12-130, going up to 140-160 with contractions. Contractions were weak though, only around 20%. I wasn't dilating or any other signs or symptoms, so they sent me home with some more meds and told me to contact my dr if it continues. Well, it did so by Tuesday and she doubled all the meds. So day after day after day I would wake up, feel okay with only a few mild contractions. By mid-morning it would start, and by evening it would be regular and sooooo tiring. On Friday night I had the show, and on orders from the dr, went straight back to hospital. I was admitted and monitored through-out the night. The one dr was prepared to do the c-sect, but fortunately phoned my dr who asked her to just sedate me to see if that helps. And it did!!! I slept sooooo well, and woke up with contractions irregular. I've only started to dilate. So I was sent home with antibiotics because they said it was a UTI causing the preterm labour.

On Monday I saw my dr and she said we'll just have to take it day by day. I need to take all the medication on double doses to keep the contractions at bay and hope that baby stays put. Throughout all of this, baby was doing extremely well. Still very, very quiet, like always, but heartrate good, growing well and lungs maturing quite suddenly. At that point, the sonar guesstimated baby's weight at 2.6kg.

The rest of the week went by like the previous week. Constant contractions that turned regular sometime throughout the day but don't really go anywhere. Yesterday I had another checkup and baby is almost 3kg's!! Lungs still need a little bit of maturing to do, so dr has told me to try and hang on. She can take baby out now, and I'll have immediate relief from the contractions and the UTI's and kidney pain, but for baby's sake, she wants to wait just 2 more weeks. Until I'm 38 weeks along. So we wait. My kidneys are struggling, which is causing the UTI's, which is causing the contractions. I'm still taking the double dose pills, which I absolutely HATE. I don't like to take any medication in pregnancy. But if it's a choice of baby going to NICU, or me taking some medication, I guess I don't have a choice really. So ya, here we are. On the eve of being 36 weeks. With contractions as strong as ever, kidneys in agony, and me counting down the days....

The kids can't wait either. They were a little bit thrown when we had to drop them off with friends and family twice so that I could go to hospital. They don't like the unknown. They like routine and to know what will happen when. But they're coping, we all are, and just sooo excited to see and meet baby. And to hear the gender!!

Fortunately, it's school holidays. A 3-week winter holiday. The first week went by in a haze for me, with the every-3-min-contractions all day long, the whole week. It was tough. The kids just went their ways. Playing sooooo well together and entertaining themselves with their lego's, toys, fingerboard, cars, Wii, computer, and on Daddy's iPad of course. There's really no lack of things to do around here. They enjoyed the cool but sunny weather outside with their dog and really made the best of that week. The 2nd week we took them to their grannies to stay over. They had loads of fun with all the extra attention. Granny cooking all their favourite meals, grandpa playing with them and their cousins also visited. I missed them terribly, but used the quiet time to get all the last baby things ready and went for a haircut and some last-minute shopping. And I rested ALOT to give baby a chance. This week we've been to the dr, and visited some friends today (I had a mini-baby shower, was so sweet!), and tomorrow some other friends are visiting us. Boeboe's very best friend that moved away during their grade 1 year. On Thursday we'll just rest. Friday we're going to the movies with my sister and her children, and then we have one last weekend together before school starts again on Monday. Then it's just 1 week left, and baby's coming! That is...if baby doesn't come sooner. :)

So all in all, it's going well with us. Boeboe's still struggling with the nr2's, but that's another post for another time. Mr N went to see his neurologist, and had a clear EEG!!!! We were over the moon! So his meds have been halved for 3 months, and then we stop it for 6 months. We'll have a repeat EEG and if that's clean again, he will be declared epilepsy-free for now. Isn't that fabulous?!?!?! I don't want to get too excited though, because we've been down this road once before, and his EEG wasn't clean twice in a row. But, I can't help but hope!!

Monkeyman is having an absolute blast having his siblings with him 24/7. He really misses them when they're at school. So he has been so easy...always playing with one or both of them all day long, and demanding absolutely nothing from me except the occassional hug, a bit of help putting on his jersey and brushing his teeth, LOL. So easy. He did have accidents twice in the last week since returning from the grannies though, which bothered me and his dad a bit, but for now we'll just pretend it never happened and see how the next few weeks play out.

Boeboe....ag, my sweet sweet wonderful daughter. So stubborn and righteous and fair and demanding. But so so sweet and kind and loving and caring. She's really such a joy to have during holidays. It's so sad to see how the stress of school turns her into this raging little girl, and then during holidays she's so happy and laughing and just carefree. Reading and playing and just enjoying life. No school-stress, no pressure, nothing. Just being a little girl. I love seeing her like this! That's why, for this post, I don't want to talk about the negatives of her life.

And this is her newest joy! Meet Angel, our new baby bunny. :)

I am human...

...not robot. I am human. I have to try and accept that. As a human, I make mistakes. Sometimes, the same mistake over and over and over again. Because...I am human. It's difficult to forgive. It's even more difficult to forgive yourself. I should be able to handle it by now, after dealing with it for 5 years, shouldn't I? But I can't. And it makes me feel like a terrible, terrible mother.

Yes, I'm talking about the always present, always awful, nr 2 accidents. I just can't take it. I never could, I still can't. And there's nothing, no one can do for me or for my poor daughter. This is life, and sometimes life is difficult. Some days we can forget about it and act as if we're just a normal happy mom&daughter who has never fought, never yelled, never cried. But in truth...we're not. I've yelled and screamed more than the average mommy. I've cried more tears than I thought I had in me, even over the course of 5 years. Sometimes I've rebelled and ignored the problem. Sometimes I've went all out and tried to find causes and solutions and cures. Sometimes I've blamed her. Yes, big mommy-of-the-year-reward for me. I've blamed my daughter for a medical condition she cannot control and certainly didn't ask for. Sometimes I've walked away from her. Because choosing at that moment to deal with my anger away from her was the better option. Sometimes, I was unable to walk away.

Tonight....tonight wasn't a good night. It's been building and building. For months and months there's just been accident after accident and I just blew it tonight. Because I've been in preterm labour having contractions for weeks and weeks now and I'm tired. So very very tired. Tired of timing contractions. Tired of worrying wether I'll have to deal with another NICU baby. Tired of wondering why things is going wrong again. Does this baby have whatever his/her sister has? Because the pregnancy is threatening to end like hers. Tonight, I blew it. And I feel terrible. Of course. Awful for the way I handled myself. Awful for the things I screamed at my daughter. Awful for the fact that I couldn't take it anymore. The smell. That's what gets to me the most. That's what makes my fly off the handle. I can cope with the "dirtyness" of it, well sort of. Even with my OCD of washing hands a million times a day, I can cope with that. I complain, but I cope. I can even cope, sort of, with the costs. Somehow, we make do. Yes, it's hundreds a month down the drain for us. Because she has a medical condition. I accept that and cope with it. I can also cope with all the extra washing and workload it causes me. That's probably the easiest part to cope with.

What I can't cope with...is the smell. I can't. I just can't. I try and try and try. I tell myself it's not so bad. I tell myself it's not her fault. I tell myself be patient. Be kind. Be understanding and supportive. But then I'm nauseous for 7 months straight due to pregnancy, I haven't slept well in weeks because of preterm labour, I've been ill for 2 months with a stubborn bladder/kidney infection that refuses to clear up. I haven't been myself for about 8 months. So while trying to keep my pills down and not throw them up as soon as they're down...I smell it. And I blew. Like the proverbial volcano. I blew. And it wasn't her fault. Why can't I see that? Why can't I completely accept that? Why do I always, always get back to this point. This very very low point. Where I yelled at her. Screamed at her. Blew my top for something she can't help. Of course, I don't blame her for having the accident. I blame her for not trying to prevent them with the tips and help I provide. I blame her for not smelling or feeling the accident after it has happened. I blame her for not cleaning herself properly. I blame her for not taking the time to be as hygenic as possible, but always trying to be as quickly as possible in the bathroom, so that she can get back to whatever/whoever she was playing with. That's what get to me. Her not trying as hard as I want her to, to take control. To take responsibility. To try.

So here I am. Sitting at the computer with tears streaming down my face, and I wonder if she's lying in her bed, feeling unloved and unwanted and like the worst daughter in the world. Like I feel like the worst mom in the world. I've hugged her. I've told her I love her. I've tried to make it right. But words can't wipe the plate clean again. The hurt has been done. All I can do now like always, is to try and look forward again. To try and do better tomorrow. To try and use the school holiday that starts tomorrow, to show her that she's beautiful. She's loved. She's wanted.