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.

Exams, pregnancy and some ramblings

So it's exam time again. Sigh. Not my favourite part of the school term, but at least when it's over, we get to have a 3 week long winter holiday. And after that, we have about a week before baby comes. Such exciting times ahead!!

Mr N started off well with the exams. Sometimes the work is allot, and I really feel sorry for him. It takes quite a bit of my time as well, because I have to query him every now and then so that he can see if he knows the work or not. It doesn't always go without a fight. Poor boy. But he's handling it well, and after tomorrow we're a third of the way. They write 3 subjects every week, for 3 weeks. Total of 9.

Boeboe is doing well. Some tantrums again the past few weeks. I honestly think she's just very very tired. She always get like this towards the end of term. I have no idea how she's going to handle exams and that work load next year. But for now, I can't worry about it. Her magnesium is done, so at the moment I'm not giving her anything for her stomach. I'm a bit at a loss and wanna see how her stomach is without any meds. Because even on the magnesium, we've had so many accidents that I'm not sure if it was worth it. I just wish she could handle it better by herself already. I feel like it's still my responsibility, and to be honest, at age almost 9, I feel like she should be responsible? Maybe I'm expecting too much too soon. It probably depends on the child.

Monkeyman is also growing up fast now. He's getting a will of his own, so he doesn't always listen to me anymore. But that's okay, it's normal and not too much to handle. Unfortunately it does mean that he's being disciplined more, which I hate. He's still my baby!! And he's spoiled by his mommy and daddy because he has been such a good little boy. :)

So that's our update. Oh, and of course. The pregnancy. It's going very well. We've been for a 3D scan, and baby is just gorgeous. Fat little cheeks, round small face, bunch of hair, very defined lips and straight little nose. Looks quite a bit like Monkeyman. We're suspecting it's a boy. It looks like a boy! Fortunately (or unfortunately) the sonographer couldn't see the gender, LOL. The kids were adamant that they still wanna wait until the birth, so it's all good.

So it's going really well with baby. Last week he already weighed 1.3kg. With me it's going well too. I had a bad month with a UTI causing some very strong contractions. It wasn't particularly nice. But the antibiotics seemed to have help, and I feel good. I don't even have the normal pregnancy tiredness. Not even the 3rd trimester tiredness. I simply cannot believe how lucky I am! Unfortunately it seems like my liver is struggling a bit. I may have pregnancy cholestasis, which means bile salts are being depositted underneath my skin. My symptoms are severe itching all over, especially at night. And nausea. Really no fun, but at least now I know why I'm still nauseous at 30 weeks pregnancy!! The c-section date is scheduled for end of July. Just 8 weeks left!! Can't wait to meet this little one. And see what gender we're having. :-)

So I've been thinking about something this past few weeks. Why do some moms brag SO much about their children? Honestly, it grates me sometimes. I try to understand, but I find it difficult. Oh believe me, I love my kids, and I'm superproud to be their mommy. But I don't think of them as the most beautiful, cleverest, cutest, whatever little kids there are. And I certainly don't go around and tell that to everyone everytime I see them. I'm too much of a realist. Mr N is such a good boy, but he's not an angel! I'm not unaware of the fact that he can push the boundaries and do typical 10-year old boy things like leave 3-day old cooldrink glasses in his room. Or hide the note from the teacher that complained about his homework not being done. When I look at his face, I see his gorgeous eyes, his shy smile and his high forehead. But I'm not blind. I also see his freckles, his prominent upper jaw and his Prince Charles ears. I don't mind any of that. I love him with and including everything. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the cleverness, the shyness, the happiness. Anything and everything. His whole make-up. Personality and looks. And together it makes Mr N. My Mr N. My wonderful boy.

Same with Boeboe. I know she's sometimes lacking in logic. I know that she's not very gifted in sports, academics, cultural activities, etc. I know all of that. But I also know that she has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen in any little girl. I know that her giggle can sent other kids into fits of laughter because it's so contagious. I know that she must be the most emotionally strong little girl that has ever walked the earth, because of what she had to cope with in her life. I know she's sweet, super kind, gentle, instinctual, intuitive. But I'm not stupid or blind. I know her. Inside and out, and I love her, inside and out.

Monkeyman...yes, our calm river. I absolutely adore that about him. His wife is probably going to call it being lazy, and I know she won't love it. But to me, as his mommy, I find it super adorable that he is so laid back and relaxed and chilled. Nothing phases him. He's so contend. So happy. So easy-going. But I realises that it takes some packing explosives to get him moving! His poor teacher one day. I also know that his toothless smile may be cute to us, but other people probably find it repulsive. I also know that he's quite average looking. There's nothing particularly outstanding about his little face, and also nothing particularly bad about his face. He's just...there. Normal, human, boy. He'll be one of those faces that could just dissapear in a crowd. He's not tall. Or big. Or anything noticable, except his stunning eyes. But for those that knows him, his fine sense of humour will be a source of so much joy. His love for the people in his life would surround everyone with a sense of happiness like it does with us. His sharp wit, his high intellect and his quick grasping of how things work will help him make a success of whatever he tackles one day.

So yes, I'm not blind to my kids "normalness". Or their "averageness". So that's why it grates me that when you talk to certain mommies, they always just brag about how quick, how fast, how clever, how beautiful, how amazing their kids are. Why is this? Do they think we won't notice it if they don't keep on telling us? Do they think that we won't realise the exact extend of how cute their child really is? Or how beautiful? Or how amazingly fast he's developing? When I speak to people, I'd rather talk about the complaints. The issues I have with my kids. How they won't listen, or how they get so much homework, or how they're eating me out of the house. I don't like to tell them "oh, have you noticed how absolutely stunning Boeboe looks in that dress?". Or "did you know what Monkeyman's teacher told me last week about how very clever and advanced he is in maths at the age of only 4?" or "did you know that Mr N was in the top 10 for Maths AND English last year for his grade?". I don't feel any need to tell anyone that. It's enough that WE know about it. Me and their daddy. I don't need other people's nods of acknowledgement to know how amazing my kids are. And I can't wait to see how clever and amazing this 4th one is going to be!!

A year later...

So, the previous weekend, it has been a year. Boeboe's detethering operation. The 14th of April. When I posted my last post. I didn't forget, I chose to ignore the date. I don't know why, but somehow I din't want to celebrate something that was so traumatic to us. Yes, the outcome was good. But it was still a huge trauma. I think deep down, it's still traumatic to me. I'm not sure if you ever get over seeing your 7-year old go through a back operation, just as you don't really ever get over seeing your newborn struggle for his or her life in NICU. It's something you accept, and you go on, but you don't necessarily want to celebrate it, even if it had a good outcome. Because you'd rather they never needed to be in hospital in the first place.

But ya, so it's a year later. And even though I don't really want to remember it all, it may be good to have a record of where she stands after a year. So let's start with where she was before the operation....

A year ago, Boeboe had the following symptoms and progression:
1. Daytime urinary incontinence. It started off as a once-a-week accident at age 3, a couple of times a week accident at age 5-6, and by age 7 in the months before the operation, she had so little control that we've reverted back to wearing nappies full time.

2. Nighttime urinary incontinence. To my utter delight, Boeboe was completely dry at night by age 3. She would maybe have 2 or 3 accidents a year. This would actually turn out to be a drawback, in the end. Maybe, if she also had little control at night, the doctors (and myself!) would've realised something really could be up. But because she had nighttime control, we all thought then her daytime lack of control must be behavioural. But then suddenly, at the age of 6, she had an accident at night. The next night, the same happened. and the next, and the next. Very, very strangely, she had literally lost the control she had, overnight. She was dry one night, and wet the next, and stayed wet from there on. This really triggered me as very, very strange.

3. Feacal incontinence. When Boeboe was pottytrained, she caught on with nr 2 within one day. She had one accident, cried from the fright of it, and then never had another accident for more than a year. I was amazed, since it wasn't that easy with her older brother. I marvelled at my clever daughter. But then she had an accident at age 4.5 years old. This turned to having an accident every couple of months. Later on, every month. Around age 6, it turned to every week. And by age 7, she had almost no control left. In the 2 months before the operation, I had to help clean her up about 3-4 times a day (she wore a nappy by then). This was difficult for her to handle.

4. Constipation. When Boeboe was a tiny, tiny baby, I once took her to an all-night clinic with a distended, rockhard stomach. The dr diagnosed her with constipation, even when she was an exclusively breastfed baby. From then on, she's always struggled with constipation. Nothing we tried, made much difference. Medication would provide temporary relief. By age 6, she was diagnosed with impaction.

5. Since age 3 or 4, I got angry with Boeboe when she would walk next to me, because she would always veer off towards her left and bump into me. At age 5, her granddad noticed that maybe it is because she had a slight toe-in. Her left foot's toes would point sharply towards her right, instead of straiht to the front. We took her to the orthopeadic surgeon, who diagnosed her with 3 slight problems. Her left leg came out of her hipbone in a slightly higher angle than it should've, her left toes pointed inwards and her one leg was shorter than the other. All of it was only slight problems, and he said it shouldn't interfere or cause problems. He was more concerned with her incontinence and thus suspected Spina Bifida Occulta. This was ruled out by an x-ray. By age 6, Boeboe was having problems falling numerous times a day. Or rather, she would stumble. At last 4 times a day, she would cry because she's hurt one or both feet, fell down on her knees or scraped skin off her shins. Around age 7, she also started complaining about daily pins and needles in her legs and feet. She used to complain maybe once a month, but by this time, it was daily. She also had regular pain in her legs during the day.

So this is how things started at age 3, and progressed up until age 7. It sounds so clear-cut, seeing it all like that now. But when you live it day-to-day for 4 years, you don't notice the patterns like that. You're unable to tell the doctors, and even when you do, they see you once off, and not for 4 years. So they don't realise the decline. At age 4 and 5, they tell you it's "normal". At age 6 they tell you some children has developmental delays, or that she's on the upper borderline of "normal". So even after 3 years of struggling, you're told it's all "normal". Oh, how I've come to hate that word..."normal".

So when the operation was done at age 7 and a half last year April (2011), she was urinary and feacal incontinent day and night, and would numerous times a day stumble and hurt her feet or legs. Then, the miracle happened during the operation. Even though the filum couldn't be cut, somehow during the operation, when they cut open the dura, whatever has tethered her back, has miraculously been loosened. I still believe that this was an absolute miracle. There is just no other explanation. From day 3 after the operation, when Boeboe was able to visit the bathroom by herself in the hospital, things has started to improve immediately. From that first night, she was dry! She still had daytime accidents, but instead of daily, it was again only a few times a week. And instead of no control over the nr 2's, she again had some control. Since the moment she was able to walk around normally after the operation, she noticeable complained less about hurting her feet or stumbling so much. She also had immediate relief from the pins and needles feeling in her legs. She also complained much less about pain in her legs.

So where exactly do we stand a year later? Well, she still has urinary accidents during the day, but only about twice a month. Most of it happens when she laughs uncontrollably, run around or being tickled. There has been accidents at school, one very bad one, so I do think we'll have to at some point, do something about this. Maybe botox again. But for now, she's handling it beautifully. And I really wanted to give her time to just settle and enjoy the new lease she got on life, and to not think about hospitals and anaesthesia and doctors and tests and procedures for a year.

Constipation has not changed much at all. Feacal accidents has improved allot, but is unfortunately still a really horrible thing she has to live with. It happens about 4-5 times a week. But where she used to have no control, she now gained feeling, after which she runs to the bathroom. So definitely an improvement, but still a horrible thing we live with on a daily basis.

She still experience the odd pins and needles or pain in the legs. But instead of daily, it's now every 3 months or so. Unfortunately, she still scrapes her feet and legs regularly on a daily basis. The podiatrist believes it's due to the one leg being shorter than the other. We have a check-up with the orthopeadic surgeon this week to see what he thinks.

Nighttime continence has dissapeared completely. Since the operation, there was one at about the 3 month mark, and then one at around the 6 month mark. In the last 6 months, none. Isn't this absolutely amazing? There's just NO other symptom, that tells me just so clearly that she really indeed had a tethered cord all along. Because the decline was so sudden, and so severe at age 6 (from almost never a nighttime accident to having one every night), and then the recovery so miraculous. For this, I really can only praise the Lord. He was good to my little girl. It feels good to know with 100% certainty what was wrong with Boeboe, and that the fight I fought for those last 2 years to get her diagnosed, was worth every tear, every drop of sweat, every traumatic experience, every minute of lost sleep, every hour of research I've put into it. It makes me feel good to know that I too, did good for my little girl. After the years of blame I've put her through, for having accidents, I at long last, did good.

So all-in-all, she has gained complete nighttime control, gained about 90-95% urinary control during the day, and gained an about 30-40% control of the feacal incontinence (rough guesstimates). I don't even want to think what our lives the past year would've been without the operation. It was a turning point in my daughter's life. It made all the difference. After continueing the phsycological therapy for a while, she has gained confidence, security and happiness. Something that she would not have had without the operation. Life has changed for the better for her. And I'd forever be grateful towards the dr that was prepared to take a chance and go in blindly. With no MRI evidence. With nothing other to go on than the word of a scared mother and father. And against the wishes of his esteemed collegue. And I'd forever praise the Lord that was with him that day, to guide his hands to cut at precisely the right place without even realising it. There is just no other explanation for the miracle that happened that day in theatre.

So yes, that's where we stand a year later. It's been a good year. A wonderful year. A healing year. And I am grateful.

Having compassion...

Before I delve into what's on my mind, just a quick update. It's going well with my little family. I've been scarce, still, because yes, can you believe it, I'm STILL nauseous!! Gosh, 23 weeks pregnant and still having morning sickness (which of course isn't contained to mornings only). Just my luck. Apart from that and normal pregnancy complaints, and the horribly low bloodpressure, me and baby are doing absolutely fine. (S)he is a busy body! Kicking allot, and even having hickups at least once a day. Sometimes quite a bit irritating, LOL. Something bouncing up and down in rythme in your tummy. Funny feeling, that.

It's going well with the other 3 children as well. We had a quick holiday, much too short, where we rested quite a bit. The children played all day long, entertaining each other. And they read allot, which made mommy very happy of course. Boeboe is doing okay, not experiencing too many symptoms, just the normal everyday struggle with the tummy, and the rare bladder accident every second week or so. And of course, the regular falls, but now that it's winter, she's in shoes so it hurts less. We've made an appointment with her previous orthopeadic surgeon to first see what he thinks before we go ahead and build her shoe up. So at the moment, life is good all around for all of us. Monkeyman had his teeth fixed, and again, it looks absolutely beautiful. Thank goodness that's over and done with. He handled the anaesthesia like last time...not too well. :-( The dr was very kind, I held Monkeyman on my lap while the dr chatted to me, unobtrusively holding the little "pipe" under Monkeyman's chin. He just fell asleep! Amazingly easy. Unfortunately, afterwards he cried and fought bitterly, and was nauseous and tired the rest of the day. And again he got a sinus infection from the pipe down the throat, or the anaesthesia, or maybe it was a cold. In any case, after about 5 days he was back to himself, with 2 gorgeous new teeth and a wonderfully bright smile. :-)

So what has been on my mind...compassion. People that have it, or don't. Sometimes, I'm a hardheaded woman and stubborn about something. Like my passion about small children and creches. I'm pretty sure my compassion could be more in that regard. It's geared towards my point of view, as a SAHM. So my compassion may seem limitted to working mommies. But then, in other areas, I get astounded when I talk to people and see how little compassion they have towards other parents.

Like the newest "buzz-word". Gender Dissapointment, or for short, GD. So many, many women have this. When they wanted one specific gender and find out their unborn baby (or newborn) is the opposite gender. Some mommies cannot find it in their hearts to understand this absolute dissapointment, sadness and even a sense of failure. They feel that when you are able to HAVE a baby, and you have a HEALTHY baby, you should be grateful, over the moon and the happiest person alive. I can understand this lack of compassion, in some ways. Especially when it comes from a childless couple, who would give anything for a baby. Or when someone went through the terrible heartache of loosing a pregnancy, baby or child. Or when they personally know the intense struggle a parent goes through with a special needs baby. How could you blame them for showing no compassion toward those that's lucky enough to have a healthy, gorgeous baby. What should it matter what gender it is?

But it does. I personally know this. I've been through a miscarriage. I have a special needs child. I know the heartache both of those can cause. I have never lost a baby after birth, so I would never assume I know how those parents feel. But even throughout all my experiences, I STILL get it. I get the heartache, the longing, the anger, the dispair a mommy feels who wanted a little girl. I understand. And I show compassion. Because I too, could've been one of them. So easily, God could've given me 4 sons. As it is, I think He may have given me 3 sons. And I can't help but be sad and dissapointed. I love my boys. God knows, I love them with all my heart and soul and I would never, ever trade them for any other baby. They're mine.

But.

I want(ed) another little girl. I wanted the bows and butterflies and pink polka dots again. I wanted the little dresses, the dolls for Christmas, the softness that comes with only a little girl. I had the bugs, the dirty fingernails, the little cars and action figures twice now. I would've loved to have another go at the frilly again. But alas, something tells me that my feeling that this could be a little girl, is just wishful thinking. I can't be for sure. One night, I'll dream about a baby wrapped in a pink little blanket. And the next evening, I'll have the most gorgeous little boy that pops out without pain, LOL. So I have no idea what I'm having. The past few weeks, I'm having a strong suspicion that it's a boy. But I'm coming to terms that I'll be fine, either way. This is my last baby, and I would've loved to have 2 pigeon pairs. But, I will also be okay with 3 boys, because I already have my beautiful daughter who I prayed for so very very hard.

This gives me a little bit of a look inside the heartache of a mommy who have 2 or 3 boys and desperately wanted a little girl. It's not the baby boy who's the focus of the anger and sadness. It's the loss of the gender you wanted. The loss of a dream that now will never happen. The loss of a whole different life. The loss of so many possible futures. No wedding dress drama, no late-night girly talks, no cutex-evenings, no bows and dresses, no pink and purple frills, no playing Barbie dolls together or making tiny baby dresses for her dolls. So many losses. Big and small. Things that you'll never, ever have. Because you don't have that daughter you wanted so desperately.

This doesn't mean you don't love the 2nd (or 3rd or 4th) little boy you're carrying any less. It doesn't mean you wish him away or doesn't want to be pregnant anymore. It doesn't mean that you'll want to swop him after birth for a little girl! It just means that you have to come to terms with the loss of a dream you may have carried with you for 30 or even 40 years. To have a little girl of your own. To have the bond with that little girl, that you shared with your mother. Or like in my case, the loss of giving my daughter the sister she so desperately craves. The loss of giving her the love and support from a sister like I have.

Someone said that why is it that PND (post natal depression) gets recognised by almost everyone now as not the mommy's fault, and not in her control, but something like Gender Dissapointment gets frowned upon? How is it that one woman's depression about something, gets recognised and treated, while another has to hear it's "all in her head" and she has to "fix herself". How would we know how deep her dissapointment goes? How deep her sadness and depression goes? And what triggered it? I agree with that person. Just as PND is real, and not the mommy's fault or in her control to "just fix it", people should understand that gender dissapointment may also not be in that person's control or ability to "just fix herself". She too may need time and support.

How can people not be compassionate about this? How could they be so harsh, to judge these feelings, these mommies, for feeling that way?

Same goes for other parenting issues and choices. Like formula vs breastfeeding, natural vs Csection, SAHM vs working mommy, private school vs public school, junk food vs all-healthy diets, etc.

From as long as I can remember, I wanted children. Especially a little girl, but any baby would do. I played dolls until after the age where my peers were already dating boys and worry about make-up and periods. It's all I ever wanted out of life. A baby. So from the start, my mom would tell (or rather warn) me that I must not be fixated on a natural/vaginal birth. Because I'm a tiny, thin, frail little thing. Severely underweight, short and the thinnest bone structure you can imagine. She told me about c-section and that I must be prepared about it.

I would always be grateful to her for this preparation. I went into my first labour with huge, open eyes. I knew it was a chance only. I knew it's something I want, and something I wanted to try for. Natural birth. But I also knew that once I tried, I would be satisfied with any outcome, as long as baby is fine. So when, after 10 hours of active labour, my baby got stuck, I happily agreed to a c-section. The one nurse came to me, put her hand on my arm and told me that I must not feel like a failure. That I must not be sad about it. I looked at her all bewildered and then at my husband, silently mouthing "what's this woman going on about??". Because to me, it really was fine. A few hours later my baby was born via c-sect and I didn't mind one bit. I had my contractions and labour. I had my wish. I now know how contractions feel like. I know what is labour. I know the pain and the fear and the excitement and the buzz. I may not know what the last pushing stage feel like, but I'm okay with that. I had the experience I wanted. And my baby turned out just fine. Healthy, strong and the best sleeper ever!

But having wanted a natural birth, and getting a c-section in return, I can understand other women's dissapointment. It's a process. Sometimes a long and hard process that can even take years, or until you have a 2nd baby. Or maybe never. Who are we, to judge those women who cry about it? They can't just shut their feelings, turn the tap off and ignore it all? So how can we judge them because they have that feelings? Let them process it. Support them. Try to understand that they didn't ask to feel that way. It is what it is. Let them be sad. Let them be angry. Let them be dissapointed. Don't deny them their feelings, by telling them their baby's health is more important. They know that. They're not stupid.

Same with breastfeeding. I was one of the very very lucky ones. I breastfed like it was something I did all my life. With my small frame and lack of any fat on any part of my body, I don't have the cupsize one would think is necessary for breastfeeding. So growing up, I would say "eeuuwww", I'm never going to do that. Part of it was fear of what breastfeeding would do to my already non-existing womanly look, and part of it was revulsion for something so animalistic!! How silly I've been!! So, once pregnant and reading all the books, I realised that I wanted to do this for my baby. Because it would keep him healthy. So I tried. Again with a very open mind. I bought all the bottles and tools necessary to formula feed for just in case. I would see how it goes. So even when they gave my baby formula (long story) once after birth, I wasn't too upset because this was all a trial-run for me in any case! Then, within a week, I had so much milk I almost (ya, okay, really just almost!) looked like Dolly Parton. And suddenly, I felt sooooo proud and happy and like I was the only woman ever to achieve something so amazing as making her baby's own milk. Feeding him exactly what and how much he needs. And seeing him shot out from the 75th percentile to the 97th on what my body did! I felt ontop of the world! I felt invincible. I felt like if I could do this for my baby, I could do anything. I felt like the best mommy to this baby. And it made me so happy. It came so naturally, so easy. I totally forgot about c-sections vs vaginal birth. Because what did that matter, when here I was feeding my own child, out of my own body, with so much success and ease. And watching him turn into the most friendly, fat, squealing little baby who slept through from age 5 weeks, just cemented this feeling that I did my child good. I did him good. Wow.

And I became a breastfeeding expert and tried to convince everyone in my path about how wonderful this is, and how wonderful it could be. But then, I read about other people's heartache. Those who tried, and couldn't breastfeed. Or those that chose to formula feed for whatever personal reason, and now get bashed and made to feel guilty about choosing something "less good" for their babies. And I realised that I didn't want to be made out as less of a mother because I couldn't have my baby naturally. Why should someone that formula feeds, be made out less of a mother? It doesn't diminish my fervent believe in the good of breastmilk. But I can still have compassion for the mommy that chose formula, for whatever reason. I can still try to understand why she wanted or needed to do it. And I can still support her that formula can be good for a baby too. That her baby can also thrive and be contend and happy. That she too, may have done good for her baby, even if he was born via a c-section, got formula from the start and never co-slept or whatever other decision his parents made.

We mommies, we should be more compassionate. We should understand that each of us have unique circumstances. We have unique wishes and experiences that moulded us in our lives. That we cannot live each other's lives. We cannot be in one another's shoes. We have to create our own happiness, and should stop living through others. Of course we can be pro towards some choices, like natural birth, or co-sleeping. But we should stop judging those that believe it's not essential for a happy, thriving baby. We should stop making that mommy feel guilty about her choice, by being too vocal about what we believe is right or wrong. And we should stop feeling guilty for our own choices, when we read about someone else's choices. She has the right to feel ontop of the world, because she was able to deliver vaginally. Let her be happy about it! Rejoice with her! Don't deny her feeling proud for what her body achieved. And don't feel guilty, because you think she thinks less of you for not being able to do it. Be proud of what you have achieved. A healthy, gorgeous baby who loves you and his daddy more than any other person in this world.

As a passionate, argumentative person myself, I so easily fall into the trap of trying to convince people of how right I am. That what I do, or did, must be the best choice because look at how well it turned out for me. But who am I to say what is best for another mommy, or another baby? How can I be so presumptious to know what another baby needs? I totally believe in the saying "Mommy knows best". Each mother knows their child intimately. They know what they need, and what is best for them.

Today, my 4-year old came to sit close to me, laying his head on my shoulder and looking adoringly up into my eyes...and he said "Mommy, you're my very best mommy". Aawww. So sweet. Not that he has any choice of any other mommy, but that's fine. All that matters, is that I'm his very best mommy. :)

The gender debate...

Since we told the children that we're going to have another baby in the house, Boeboe has been adamant that it must be a little girl. She already has 2 brothers, she now also wanted a sister. She prayed for it for months, every night. That God will let this baby be a little girl. She understood that we don't have a choice in the matter, and that it could be either a boy or a girl. When I once asked her if she'll love another baby in the house if it isn't a little girl, she answered: "Of course. It's a baby. I loved Monkeyman even though he was a boy!". And that's Boeboe for you! So it's not that I fear that she won't love the new baby, I know she will. But, for her sake, I've been hoping that she'll get a sister one day. Mine means so much to me, I do believe every girl deserves to have a sister.

So in the beginning of this pregnancy, we assumed it will be for the best if we find out the answer. For Boeboe's sake. But then we started wondering. I sat down with Boeboe a few weeks ago and explained to her that we do have another option. That we don't have to find out the gender. That we can wait until baby is born, before we know. And that it will then be a big surprise.

Well, she surprised me!! She immediately grabbed onto the idea and from then on was adamant that we shouldn't find out the gender. We also told Mr N, who also found the idea intriguing. So, on the eve of my 16-week visit with the gynae, we sat down as a family. Because I have private health care in our country, I get a sonar with every 4-week visit at the gynae, and we knew she'd be able to tell us the gender this time (at 12 weeks it was just too early).

So we needed to decide, will we find out, or will we wait? After some discussions, no one could for sure say yay or nay. Mr N then had the bright idea that we must put it to a vote. He gave each one a piece of paper and we had to write it down. Afterwards, he and Boeboe collected everyone's votes and read the verdict. I was the only one that voted yay!! The rest, all the kids and daddy, voted no! So, that was the final decision. :) We thus have requested the gynae at our last visit to not reveal the gender, and she's taken care to make sure of that. Both me and my hubby has this "suspicion" that it's a boy, but sometimes I'll have this feeling of pink. In the beginning of the pregnancy, I thought the baby to be a little girl. So now I'm not really sure. Not at all. With the other 3 I was quite sure from the start, and right every time. This time, I just don't know!! And it frustrates me, LOL. I loved having that instinctive feeling of what it was, the other times. And I got those feelings before a sonar confirmed it for me.

In fact, with Mr N we didn't find out the gender either! I instinctively knew it was a boy, but we still decided to not find out. And it was lovely! We bonded with baby because it was our baby, not because of a certain gender. We loved him/her for what (s)he is. It really didn't matter to me or my husband. People didn't like it, they tried to convince us to find out. Even now, while we're doing it again, they immediately go into defensive mode and tell us how they had to find out. Because they needed to know for whatever reason. Well, we don't have those reasons! We don't need those reasons. Can't you understand that? Like the gynae said...there's so few things left in this world to be surprised about. Why not enjoy this gift for what it is? I don't have any problem bonding with a genderless baby. Why would the gender play a role there? Well, it doesn't for me. My baby is my baby. I love him or her just as (s)he is. With any faults/abnormalities/issues that may come with the baby. Why would the gender then be a distinctive marker? Well, to me it isn't. Oh, I wanted a little girl! I desperately wanted to have all that pink experiences again. I had the blue twice now, so I wanted the pink again. I tried for a little girl, and obsessed about it. Until I fell pregnant. Then, of course, those feelings mostly fell away. Now, this is just my baby. It doesn't matter who or what it turns out to be. I'll love it fiercly, like all my other children.

So, why do people get defensive about their choice of finding out the gender? Why do they feel the need to immediately reply to my "we're not finding out the gender" comment, to go into elaborate and passionate reasons about why one should know the gender? It has baffled me. Why would my choice illicit such a vehement defence of theirs? It's not as if their choices is going to change my mind?! So could it be guilt? Do they feel guilty for needing to find out the gender? I don't know.

We had both. We had the surprise with Mr N. And we found out the gender with both Monkeyman and Boeboe. And of those 3, the surprise was MUCH nicer!! There was just NO comparison for me. But when I tell people this, they brush it off as clearly not that big a deal. But they don't hear me. It was MUCH nicer FOR US. I'm not saying it should or would be nicer for other people. But WE, we loved the surprise! For US, it was the better deal. Waiting and bonding with our baby for 9 months regardless of who or what (s)he turns out to be, and then hearing that "It's a boy!" yell of surprise and excitement from the gynae....the moment was priceless. Of all 3 my births, of all the thousands of little moments that made the 3 births special, that's the one that stood out for me. And I want that again.

Yes, I voted to find out. Because I'm human and wanted to go buy a pink or blue babygrow and blanket. But I'm happy that I was veto'ed. That we get to have this surprise again. Yesterday, I took Boeboe shopping and we had a look at the baby clothes. We bought a few non-gender specific white things, and she was loving every moment. But she did say, oh, how will we be able to wait!! Because of all those beautiful little pink and blue babygrows....ah, bliss. I just told her we'll come and shop as soon as baby was born. :) And we'll buy all the pink or blue we want. In the meantime, white, yellow, lime and peach will have to do. She was satisfied with that. So, for now, we're only shopping for a few newborn babygrows. Most of what I need, I'll get after the birth. Fortunately I don't need much. We have loads of clothes in the cupboard from Boeboe and the boys, and we have all the baby stuff like a pram, a stroller, a cot, a camping cot, a carry cot, a donut, a babygym, carseats, a bumboseat, a seat to clip onto our table, sheets and other bedding, etc. We don't need much for this baby, except a few toiletries, newborn nappies and of course I want a few new newborn outfits for in the hospital. And just because I can. :)

Now, we have to wait for our little suprise baby in less than 5 months...can't wait to hear the gynae's voice yelling "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!". :)