dec 2/2001

sebastian blake has arrived, and while on his birthday he looked like MINI-ME (from the movie, not like me!), 2 days later he just sort of looks like winston churchill.

thursday night charles had an awards banquet that i attended. the doctors appointment late that afternoon had been nothing much. the baby hadn’t descended, cervix slammed shut… make another appointment for next week.

charles won the award for outstanding human resources director, hong kong (YAY!) so we headed out for a late night celebratory dinner. excellent food, a little spicy, but lots of carbohydrates. within 30 minutes of eating, i had very loose poo.  a friend visiting from vancouver joined us and came back to our place. we sat on the terrace talking until 11.30 when I announced that i was going to bed. i brushed my teeth and for some reason, threw a fresh panty liner into my undies and kept them on.

charles and my brother, graeme, stayed up with our friend scott until 2:30am.  at 4.30 i woke up, noting that i had soaked my panty-liner. i had been having urine control problems the past three days (thanks for nothing, kegels) and i had been having discharge during the daytime. i slid out of bed,  went into the bathroom, changed my undies and put in a fresh liner. i went back to bed, pushed charles over and went back to sleep. at 5.30 i woke up and the liner was soaked again. i walked to the bathroom and a little trickle went plink – plink – plink onto the tiles. my cat, cee cee followed me into the bathroom and looked and me. “hmmm, kitten. are we in labour?"

i didn’t think so. there was no mucous plug for starters and my bed was dry. this was just pee and leukhorria. i was so proud of myself for thinking rationally. but still…i saw my brother’s light was still on, and for the rest of my life we will be embarrassed of this, but i said to him, "graeme, could you please smell my underwear and tell me if this smells like pee."  graeme replied with, "tess, even if we were dating, i wouldn’t do that."

"graeme, i think i might be in labour."

"tess…. try charles."

"he’s asleep, graeme."

we were stumped. charles deserved to sleep, didn’t he?

"i know, cats hate the smell of pee, don’t they?"

"yes, they do," i replied.

"lets get cee cee to smell your underwear, if she runs away, then we’ll know it’s pee,"

"great idea!" 

very impressed with ourselves, but cee cee the wondercat walked away from the undies after one sniff. graeme and i were undecided as to what that meant. graeme determined his medical expertise was no longer required and weaseled off to bed. so i dangled the panties under charles’ nose (didn’t kim basinger do that in 9.5 weeks?) and stated my case. he agreed that the undies indeed did not smell like urine. so i explained that think I am in labour.

“are you in pain?” he asked. 

“no,” i replied.

“do you have contractions?”

“no, just some BH in lower abdomen,” 

i was feeling twitchy. i had occasional darting pains from my vagina to my belly button, but that wasn’t labour….not according to the books, anyway.

“then i think you should get some sleep. you’re probably in the first stages and you should try to sleep, you might not even see the mucous plug. conserve your energy and sleep.”

good advice, and i went to bed, but these irritating braxton hicks contractions were continuing. crotch to belly button. after ten minutes i got up, deciding i had better work on my freelance story. i took “what to expect when you’re expecting” with me to the bathroom where i noted i was now spotting and had mucous threaded with blood. “what to expect when you’re expecting” said i might be in the early stages – or i might be in false labour… a big help. cee cee looked at me and jumped into the bathtub. i gave her a little bit of water to drink.

sitting on the toilet felt good. i stayed there, and tapped away on my story. we love laptops.

i tried to work on my story but was too distracted. i MSN’ed my sister who informed me i was in labour. i went over to charles with our ante-natal book and said, "honey, i really think i am in labour" and suddenly he was upright and making plans. it was 6 AM. only 6am? was time slowing down? certainly during these pains it seemed to. they were lasting forever.

we went through our antenatal binder where the literature explained that false contractions started at the bottom of the uterus. real contractions were felt across the back and top of the abdomen, eventually covering the entire uterus. so this was false labour.

i was relieved. imagine if i had gone to the hospital. EVERYONE would have laughed at me: "Ha Ha rookie, come back when you are in REAL pain", or something like that. close call.

well, at 6.30 i called the hospital. the contractions were in the same place, and although the book said they were not REAL, they were coming with a real regularity. i figured wrong place vs. regularity…i might have a case. i thought i might have to defend my case a little, but the minute they heard "bleeding, five minutes apart…" they said come in whenever. soon.

i said i was going to stay at home and shower. they said fine, but i could shower there. i made a bundle of sandwiches (as per the book, we haven’t eaten them) and packed the last minute items for my hospital bag that i had taped to the back of the door. i told charles to go to work to get his computer (for downloading pictures) and woke up my brother.

"charles is going to the office, and i am going to have a shower. can you stay here and talk with me?"

"why do you need me in the shower with you? tess, you are getting weird," 

"the baby is on its way," 

"really?" we both turned to look at cee cee the wondercat, who was following me from room to room, and patiently waiting for me to notice and stroke her. i started to feel really emotional. everything was changing. poor cee cee, so loyal and loving. she was my cat.

by now, rotating my hips during contractions wasn’t as helpful as it had been an hour before, and DH’s hands on my lower back weren’t quite as soothing as they had been. after three minute apart contractions I said to the now dressed charles ferociously,

“forget the office, charles, i want to go to the hospital right now.”

both graeme and charles were so relieved! graeme promised to stay at the flat until our weekend guests arrived, and then to screech over to the hospital.

into the car we went. i knew this would be painful. it was. but charles, who was timing the contractions, was amazing, and kept telling me when the pains should be subsiding, that it was halfway over, i was doing amazingly, and he was so in awe of me it made such a difference. charles called the hospital:

“this is charles caldwell calling, tess’ husband. we’re going to come into the hospital right now. i just want to you know what we’re dealing with. we have severe pain and lower abdominal contractions every two to three minutes. we should be at the hospital in about 45 minutes.”

the hospital staff was terrific, saying we were doing the right thing and they looked forward to seeing us. 

like everyone else in hong kong, we have an exotic European car – a porsche. my brother had to belt me in the car with my face and knees facing the seat back as if I was on all fours. the belt went across my bum. bucket seat porsches are hardly comfortable when it comes to labour. i had at least five contractions in the car while on the way to the hospital. ouch! charles was amazing, and i remembered to tell him that yes, it hurt, but I loved him and it was definitely worth it. we both commented, rather emotionally, on what a beautiful day it was… and it really was – as we drove to The Peak along a curving uphill road the sun splattered across the leaves, trees and roads. pain aside it was a gorgeous drive. we called my mom, and charles had to use his “mrs. soprano” voice to cover up the whirl of emotions surfacing within him.

“we’re going to the hospital,” he croaked.

“whatever for,” my mom asked, “what’s wrong?”

“because we’ve got severe pain and lower abdominal contractions every three minutes,”

“REALLY!? but he’s not due for another two weeks yet…oh chuck, you two just go on your way and know we love you. call us to let us know what’s happening,”

we both started crying again when she said, “just go on your way…” what a nice expression…and very shortly, it would never be “just us two” ever again. after all those months of thinking we would never be parents, we were (hopefully only a few) hours away from becoming a family!!!

we parked illegally at the hospital (but apparently no one cared so charles parked there all weekend) and walked to the elevator. i tried to hustle past check in, and surprisingly, they let us pass. no problem, sir,accompany your wife…all we need is your credit card…..

upstairs there was someone waiting for us (check in had informed them) and i said between chattering teeth, “i am not sure if I am in labour, because pains are only from my pelvis to my belly button”.

the very sweet scottish nurse said, “yes, tess, you are in active labour. let’s get you into labour and delivery.”

excuse me? labour and delivery? what happened to sitting in a room for a while, walking the halls, the soothing baths…i was still celebrating being right about being in labour, i wasn’t ready to have a baby. didn’t i need to walk the halls for a while? what about the sandwiches?

i said i wanted to walk to the room. (i don’t know why) and had a severe contraction en route to the room. the nurse laid her hand on my stomach and told me the contractions were really strong. we had a host of concerns but the nurse said in her sweet scottish voice, “well that’s all fine, tess, you’re doing really well and everything’s going to be fine. you’re in labour and you’re going to have you’re baby soon!” i don’t know why, but that made me feel like i was doing a good job. charles clearly remembers the nurse taking every concern that we had away from us… the worry turned to excitement and anticipation.

i also felt like it was high time to get the epidural going. my midwife paged the darling fellow and although he arrived at my room 30 seconds later, i felt it took too long to get the pain relief going. At 9am they said i was 2cm dilated, but going through transition. only 2cm? no big deal.

i didn’t have time to change into a t-shirt. i just stripped down to my bra and got ready for action. I felt very purposeful. not a lot of desire for talk that wasn’t essential.

charles was particularly wonderful. as the dr was getting ready to give me epidural, he warned me to stay still. charles said to him, "well, she will be having a contraction in 10 seconds, can you wait until it is over." i was so grateful for him, his presence of mind, his continual concern for my well -being.

the drugs really threw me for a loop (NO REGRETS). the numb legs were okay, but i lost control for about 20 minutes. i was very happy and saying what i thought were deep and profound life observations. i kept looking around for a pen to write them down. i asked the dr not to top up the epi.

but after that time passed, i felt baby moving, and the midwife was constantly adjusting the fetal monitor downwards. i thought that was very neat. i was feeling the contractions, but not the intense pain i had previous to the epi. but it was happening fast.

90 minutes after my initial exam, at 10.30, the doctor, who walked into my room wearing white rubber boots, said i was fully dilated and could start pushing whenever. i said i wanted to wait until my brother arrived. he smiled and said, "sure" but stayed in the room. ten seconds later i told him i wanted to start pushing.

the epi had worn off, and the pain was so different to what it was earlier. now it was more of a pressure, there was more time between the contractions, and it was powerful pain, encouraging me. i started remembering songs, that urged me onwards.

if i had a hammer, i’d hammer in the morning i’d hammer in the evening, all over this land

i had brought a picture of charles and i on our first date to use as my focal point. i stared at that, and pushed, although after a while it was easier to keep my eyes shut. i remember hearing a strange, high pitched exhaling scream, and realising it was my voice, at the end of each of each series of four pushes. i even felt capillaries on my face breaking. it was like a scene from csi.

i’ve heard it too many times to ignore it, it’s something that I’m supposed to be, someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me.

i was using gas to control the pain (why be in pain if you don’t have to be?). and i felt myself leaving my body, and pain. i was forgetting where i was, and why i was here. i knew there was a job to be done. and that i was the only person in the world who could do it. every time charles handed me the tube, i would look in his eyes and he brought me back to clarity, and i remembered everything. the balance between the two states of mind, rather than confusing me, calmed me.

Holy holy holy, Lord God Almighty, early in the morning, our song shall rise to thee!

between contractions, as i greedily gulped in the gas, i was above myself, and felt a part of this continual cycle of birth, life and womanhood. centuries of experience encouraged me, female ancestors whispered me on, with the voice of my husband, brother and by now, doctor talking to me.

i think i can i think i can said the tired engine train it doesnt matter if they don’t believe i believe if i try i can never be weak again!

the baby’s head is large.

(i had figured that out myself, actually.)

the baby should have been born by now.

(that would have been nice.)

we can either cut you, or you can keep trying. can you keep going?

i can do this, i want this, no more drugs. 

kyrie liaison down the road that i must travel kyrie liaison through the darkness of the night kyrie liaison will i go and will you follow?

and i kept pushing. i knew that i would be able to push until this baby emerged. was it a baby? at times i didn’t know. i just knew there was an end in sight, and i was the only one who could complete this.

me.

i was so responsible. so immensly important.

i didn’t hear the dr say that one more push and the head would come. i did hear my brother laughing and crying "oh wow tess"…i did feel my husband’s fingers and squeezed them and told him I loved him.

i believe i can fly i believe i can touch the sky think about it every night and day spread my wings and fly away

incredible pressure on my anus, a piercing clean white hot slice slightly above that, pressure, my voice, and sudden relief.

and one more push. and a hot, squalling, little moving bundle on my stomach, and the sounds of three men crying. and me, sobbing.

hugging, holding. i was feeling monumentally insignificant and important.

oh my little baby, i love you so much

you have to search for the hero inside yourself search for the hero you find.  search for the hero inside yourself until you find the key to your life

it was painful, it was beautiful. the pain ended, the beauty hasn’t. i feel the glory will be with me always. if i were to never do anything else of note in my life, i think i would still feel fulfilled.

I’ll be your cloud up in the sky
I’ll be your shoulder when you cry
I hear your voices when you call me
I am your Angel,
And when all hope is gone, I’m here
No matter how far you are, I’m near

what a solemn little man the doctor said

he’s not a little man, he’s sebastian!

dh cut the cord, there were no stitches, delivered the placenta no worries, then the midwife and dr left dh, graeme, sebbie and me alone for 45 minutes. we cried, laughed, and i watched charles and grae lift seb up and hug him, all together. it was overwhelming. so much love, such a tiny person.

you are my sunshine, my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are gray you’ll never know dear, how much i love you please don’t take my sunshine away

then they weighed him…6lbs 7 oz, and then to my room where I breastfed him. i wanted to walk back to my room, they wouldn’t let me.  he was a trooper and has fed well from the start. he only lost 3 oz in the hospital. has some jaundice. and many endearing little habits. i have boobs now. they hurt, when my milk came in today, I cried! so did seb and charles, but with delight! he is tiny, and funny, with an endless supply or tragically comic expressions, limp limbs,

with clothes hanging from him, and drooping little crevices and chicken legs, and i am already teary at the thought that one day he will grow out of these clothes. how pride and sorrow will mingle on that day.

from your head to your toes you’re not much, goodness knows, still you are precious to me, as sweet as can be, baby of mine

i left the hospital today. charles, seb and i hiked home three kilometres. it was such a time of love and reflection, we had hiked that path when we were dating, then married and planning our family, then battling infertility, and most recently, intoxicated with this blessed

pregnancy. and now today, following those early footsteps, a new stage in our life, as a family. welcome to our season of joy.

at last, my love has come along my lonely days are over and life is like a song you smiled and all my tears were passed and here we are,

wrapped in clover because you are mine, at last.

(our wedding song – now expanded)

praise God from whom all blessings flow

sorry so long, the day my milk started probably wasn’t the best day to write this, very very emotional. xoxoxoxoxo

maybe not this one, paul, dad, et all…

"you’re still in town? i thought you left four years ago!"

this was the friendly greeting from a former colleague. i saw her as i was rushing jasper into the doctor’s office on monday afternoon. she was going to afternoon tea at a nearby hotel. ironically, i had been invited to an afternoon tea as well, but jasper needing more drugs took precedence.

i last saw this colleague after i resigned from the hong kong standard. after over one year of concerted temperature and mucous charting (sorry paul), timed sexual relations, carefully selected positions, and several thousand dollars invested in useless ovulation kits and useless and frustrating and tear inducing home pregnancy tests, charles and i knew we were going to have to get aggressive with our fertility, or lack thereof. i was on clomid, a drug to help me ovulate.

i quit my job. less stress, i should have gotten pregnant the next month.

i didn’t.

the marks on my wall left from my feet as i raised them carefully and rested them against the wall in order to coax any direction impaired (male?) sperm towards hopefully beautiful waiting follicles got darker and darker. i am not a particularly filthy person, but over a year, feet on one place on a white wall do make a difference.

after i saw the marks, i realised it was really time to get tough. the fertility doctor we had been referred to was making us go through that chart time. red badge of courage girls, you know what i mean. i had just had a test, my tubes were clear. wait a few more months. at least one year.

the book i was reading, optimistically titled take charge of your fertility or something ridiculous like that, said to get fit. i did. cut out lots of fertility inhibiting habits, magnificent charles was sworn to wearing boxers

"even when i jog?"

"yes! no more nasty tight terrible biking shorts!"

months passed and more negative home pregnancy tests passed from my hand to the garbage (and out of the garbage again, just in case, and then back into the bin). magnificent charles was finishing his kellogg EMBA and was spending weekends away from me. i spent a lot of weekends with him, or more specifically, any time i was ovulating. the other weekends, i was hiking and most certainly away from the cigarette filled pubs we might have frequented otherwise, and did before we started on le journee du babe.

we took a holiday and did not get pregnant. we were not staying out late, not eating japanese food, drinking mineral water and the rest of the drill.

i went to the dr and demanded action. he suggested that since i am polycystic, an iui ought to solve our problems.

it didn’t.

we weren’t planning ANYTHING, because we never knew but always hoped our lives and luck would change and i would fall pregnant.

we didn’t.

the dr thought that we should do a few more before heading to an IVF. by this time, i had been away from my job for six months. i said no thank you, and called a clinic.

we went for a consult.

we saw the cost and cancelled a holiday. hoped i would get pg naturally the cycle before. remember when you still had those thoughts?

we went back for the IVF.

it worked.

sebastian was born, and he was so great decided we wanted another baby soon.

failed FET.

failed FET.

failed FET.

three trips to canada, one month each time, and three failures.

in a way, my friend was right, i did leave hong kong, almost. my heart was certainly in canada during that year of failures.

and then, a fresh cycle and a positive test. hospitalisation, spotting, home rest for 10 weeks, only out mornings for another two months, then weekly drs visits and spending what little energy i had on my little sebastian and my sweet magnificent charles. then the premature birth and three months devoted to the hospital and then semi reclusive living after they came home.

i can see why she thought i was no longer in hong kong.

but i was.

but i never see you!

as the night life action was no longer a regular, more an irregular, it’s true, she didn’t.

my gynaecologist did though.

Jasper the Fighter Pilot

Or should we say the Nebuliser Fighter as Jasper is seen here. Three times a day the poor bloke dawns a mask and soares to new heights of discomfort to insure his lungs purge themselves of various nasty little bugs. Only until he returns to full health from a recent cold will we know if Jasper has asthma, which is a very strong possibility.

as much as i dislike feeding my children their bottles (nice way to start off), i enjoy feeding them the solids they are now spreading across their faces, tongues, hands, and throats.

carys is sweet to feed. her stomach is still very dodgy, and she can only handle the smallest amount of rice cereal. and because she still can vomit farther than i can throw my latest issue of vanity fair, we have to ensure her food is lump free. no broccoli or any of its green relatives, carys is a pastel puree eater: pumpkin, sweet potato, applesauce, eggplant (with fromage fraise), pear, etc. she doesn’t like it enough to open her mouth eagerly, you have to slide the spoon in sideways. she doesn’t take a lot, but at least she isn’t vomiting often.

sela lurrrrrrrves her green creamed spinach. sela has nappy rash. the two have to be related. when it comes to eating, she is either playing this game with us, or else she doesn’t know what we all do. the issue? she’s not a voracious eater. she opens her little rosebud mouth, smacks her lips together, flips her tongue about, and then swallows. this passionate child, a laissez-faire eater? it aint so. i predict in a couple of weeks, she’ll be manic at the bit. or possibly she is mourning the fact that she cant eat and stick her tongue about simultaneously. we shall see.

jasper was a dream to feed until a few days ago. now he begins complaining if the next spoonful isn’t rightthere the minute he swallows and opens his mug for the next nourishment. jasper eats pretty much anything in pretty big quantities. he doesn’t like the chill of fromage frais, but he does like the taste. he is a man with a conflict. imagine his brow when he is trying to decide if the taste makes the cold taste on his ever so sensitive tongue worth it.  if you don’t feed jasper swiftly enough, he rams his massive fist into his mouth. and then makes those stranged crying sounds. but he grins as he opens his mouth wide, and overall loves to be fed. no more raspberries during feeding.

sebastian (need to include him) is going through an interesting phase with his food. all he seems to want to do is drink. juice, milk, water through a straw, even at restaurants, he would rather drink than eat. his appetite has seemingly leveled off; last night he took 12 bites of casserole and was done. have no idea if this is normal. still won’t eat vegetables. any suggestions there?? i will tell you this as he isn’t reading yet, i throw chopped carrot, broccoli, peas and corn into all his food. but he doesn’t eat the steamed carrot, cauliflower and cheese, etc on the side of his plate. he gets his vegetables, he just doesn’t knowingly eat them.

and a small indication that i am no longer a rookie mother: i no longer open my mouth when spooning food towards the babies’ mouths. amen. i would have lockjaw if it did.

on a final note: last night magnificent charles and i went over to friends for thanksgiving dinner. can i tell you how nice it was to celebrate this holiday with a family? three generations were there, two sisters, sons in law, grandchildren…it was so nice seeing the familiarity between them all. i miss my family, and being around the table with them.  it was a great, easy, warm, evening.

i’m not ready to be the head of my own six seater table. thankfully, for the next while at least, it will be three seats, (one with a bumper seat) and three highchairs. and one cat who refuses to get off the spare chair.

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oooh yes, and an acknowledgement that yes indeed, i did not refer to charles as magnificent in my last blog. no, we did not have a fight. thank you to the people who pointed it out to me. magnificent. there, we’re even.

between the babies being born and their homecoming some 100 days later, i didn’t really feel like a mother.

one of my good friends was expecting her baby two months before our triplets were born. charlie was born early on march 6, the triplets were born even earlier 23 february. i would see her carrying her sweet contented baby, and i felt inferior.

i was laying in my hospital bed just after receiving my final steriod injection to help strengthen the babies lungs when i received a text message that my friends andrew and jin were headed to the hospital: their baby was on the way.

aww, how nice i thought. they are a SUPER couple that we like and respect very much.

six hours later as i lay on my side, willing the contractions away, i received another message from them, their baby had been born.

13 days later i saw them at church. their arms were full with typical newborn baby gear, blankets, baby capsule, bibs, nappies, wipes, change mats, the huge baby stroller. her breasts, swollen as she discreetly brought him to her for a feed.

my breasts, barely producing 100 mls per day. that the babies werent drinking. the only indication i had that i had that the babies had been born, was the numbness at my incision and eight extra pounds. i did not feel like a mother.

jin came over to hug me that day, and didn’t bring her baby with her. i loved her for being so thoughtful, but i wanted to see her baby. i cried when holding the nine pound wonder, the baby was that sweet.

had i had a baby? babies, even?

a lot of time it certainly didn’t feel like it. certainly my meagre milk supply didn’t indicate any recent maternal activities. and these silent, flaky skinned creatures whose eyes had only opened just a few days earlier that i couldn’t touch, they were my children? i didn’t remember them coming from my body, the first time i saw them was in a photo charles took….were they my babies?

it seemed like it had all been a dream. the IVF, the OHSS hospitalisation, the spotting throughout the pregnancy, the hospitalisation, the emergency caesarean. or was that a nightmare?

and afterwards, was a deep fugue. i kept wishing that i could snap out of it, so i could be inspirational to other mums going through the same thing, but i couldn’t. i could only be grateful, and weary. i was upbeat, but i wasn’t breathing fresh air. i was enduring the stale stuff.

only now am i talking, writing, feeling it.

if this is difficult, i cannot begin to fathom all that others have endured.

but i can’t own their experiences, or feel guilty that their grief has been worse than mine. (i haven’t accepted this yet, i am still learning it. it is a tough concept to accept, and live! especially when going easy on yourself has never been a gift i’ve come by naturally.)

one thing i did learn from my children is that life is a gift worth fighting for. and worth living well. so, rather than bury all this stuff deep, i am walking through it. not alone. magnificent charles is here. and i feel peace. God is here too. 

jasper is mobile!!!!

this is AMAZING, and i need some grace.

it was bad enough when they started rolling off the changing table. but MOVING?

its not like he’s racing, he’s more propping himself up, then pushing back. he can slide from our front door to our dining room. WHY DON"T I HAVE CARPETS INSTEAD OF WOOD FLOORING?

but more alarmingly, he is just starting to prop himself up, scoot his chubby knees under his crinkly bottom, rock back and forth, shove one hand forward and lurch in that direction, landing on his now reddened chin.

being jasper, he is very confused about this movement. for every wrinkle in his forehead, there is a question.

i don’t understand, why am i level with the chair when just a minute ago i wasn’t?

i am so confused, why does my chin hurt?

i don’t understand, why do i keep doing this?

sela is watching with great interest and i caught her today tucking her knees under her bottom and propping up. i turned her over, turtle like. and to ensure there would be no more of this reckless activity, popped her thumb in her mouth.

carys, bless her, is just starting to roll. no desire to crawl there.

one part of me is screaming with horror, yet the stronger half is absolutely delighted. what proof that their physical abilities are on track!

yet…these are my preemies! they are allowed to be delayed! supposed to, even. i seriously thought that when it came to crawling, walking, running, for once, their being on the age adjusted scale would work in my favour. but no!

my little jasper, who code blue-d in my arms, is moving! jasper weighed 2lbs 2oz when he was born! and now he is making the first crawling movements! he has no hair, but he is starting to crawl! i am not a crying person, but i did get a little lumpy throated, blinking in a sandstorm eyed when i saw his confused, earnest little face, and lurching little body. oh jasper, my little almost mobile man.

whether i am thinking about the distance between door to the table or from the saran wrap covered incubator to the floor:

you’ve come a long way, baby.

i’m hopefully over being over

strange things are afoot at the o-k corral.

if i had paid more attention to geology class, i could compare what i am going through right now to a geological shift. from under the surface of tess, there is a state of being that i haven’t known for some time. i don’t have the right word for it, but it brings about contentment, peace and the ability to endure a bit more.

there are a few contributing factors:

1) charles won’t be travelling (excepting today and tomorrow) for a few weeks.

2) dad and pam had a good visit! my dad got to meet my friends, and see my life!

3) i am back at Bible Study

4) i was early for my appointment with the counsellor and we had a very.good.talk.

despite these events, it was a surprise to wake up and search my fecund mind and realise, i am waking up tired, again, but hello! what’s this…?

to describe it as a happiness isn’t accurate, to say that i was depressed before isnt exactly accurate either. i was OVER.

i was overwhelmed.

i was overtired.

i was overcompensating.

so now, despite psyche’s best efforts to make me feel bad about a good situation, ie: hell’s bells and spiders ankles, i must have been pretty submerged for a while there

i feel good. things that yesterday seemed wayyyyyyyyy overwhelming, that i have been procrastinating doing, are pretty much done. besides the basics (feeding 15 times, changing 15 nappies, getting dressed, taking pills, etc etc etc), i ticked off five things on my list today.

when the babies were in the hospital, accomplishing some tasts just seemed monumental. it’s been similar to that this past six weeks. but today i woke up and did them without drawing a deep breath with my hand laying on the phone before picking it up. people (i really mean me but could use the company) are so strange.

and its funny, circumstances haven’t really changed all that much around here. jasper is wheezing and wiping himself across the floor, carys still requires a midnight feed, sebastian’s speech problems are still tough to listen to, sela’s head still wobbles, i still have to lose 20 pounds, olivia the cat still meows all the time, the list does go on.

my world hasn’t changed since yesterday, but i have. this is very good news.

forecast: isolated, gloomy, yet GOOD

i received some great news today.

a friend who was meant to visit hong kong and stay with us for over one week IS NOT COMING.

i didn’t word it as great when i heard the news, but you know what i mean.

i have been busy planning my in-laws schedule for when they arrive, and it is looking good. sebastian’s birthday party, american thanksgiving, rainbow restaurant, american peking restaurant, the annexxe, etc.

i "test drove" most of the planned activities on pam and frugal blake, and my in-laws will be the final run. the extra visitor was surplus. a test test drive, if you will.

anyway, i am chuffed. previously, the room was being vacated the day before one of my sisters in law arrived, now i have time to sort through it, should i choose. (i don’t, but it is very nice to have the option.)

i love having guests, but i also love having time. this is good.

********************

jasper needed an emergency trip to the doctor today. this morning i spent the day at sebastian’s school (first at the playground with his class, next covering books in the staffroom. ahh, do you envy me my glamourous existence?) i rode home in the school bus. sebastian gave me permission. we sang the "wheels on the bus".

when i got home, jasper’s wheezing was worse than ever. you know that sound when a small bit of something that won’t break down is stuck in and rattling around the blender? that was jasper’s chest today. huge warning bells.

i got him an appointment with the person i consider to be the best paediatrician in town, and off we went. in the waiting room i found my good friend and neighbour, and her husband, and two of their three children, who are suffering from the same thing.

everyone in the waiting room could hear jasper wheezing. and of course, he was furrowing his brow and looking very confused, as jaspers do. concerned, and a little bit scared. tonnes of public sympathy for jasper. he started whinging and refused his bottle, so i gave him a cup of warm water, and i’ll be ding dong double damned if he didn’t enjoy the gulping concept. he got a lot of the water down his dungarees, but he also got a lot down his hungry yap.

have i mentioned that jasper of the cavernous mouth now only takes 100mls of his bottle? he prefers to take the rest of his nourishment through rice cereal and broccoli/pumpkin/sweet potato/spinach, what have you name it.

the doctor wasted little time…mine or his. he is a very good doctor. i knew it would be important so i mentioned that jay was a preemie, and the doctor declared that just looking at him, it was impossible to tell that jasper had been so premature.

why was he premature?

this one always makes me pause. i didn’t do anything wrong. i didn’t do anything wrong.

i settled for telling the dr jasper was a triplet.

a pause.

"and the other siblings?" he asked so delicately.

i hastened to tell him they had also survived.

"wonderful! fantastic!" he exclaimed. he then suggested we all get flu shots. as a celebration, possibly.

jasper is now on a nebuliser three times a day and is also on antibiotics for the next week. he hates the nebuliser and we have learned that jasper can cry for 30 minutes straight, while we are giving him the drugs.

so this is monday. we don’t have guests, jaspers lungs are going to get better, sebastian’s speech therapist is coming tomorrow, the girls are eating more and feeling better…all this is good.

More pictures, please see the photo album below!

MUMMA M.I.A.!!!

ooh i am not happy with myself.

i missed an appointment with my counsellor. she had gone in to work especially for me, and i did not show up. it was my second appointment and i was really looking forward to it.

i had double booked myself with carys’ physiotherapist appointment. i was late getting to the physio because a friend stopped by who really needed to vent. i was also late for the physio. and i HATE BEING LATE! and am rarely late! annie (the physio) knows this, i have never been late before so she knew it was an extenuating circumstance so i didn’t feel so badly. plus, she saw that i had all three triplets with me, so she was really understanding of the extra time it had taken to get there that i had not accounted for. annie wanted to see all three and their stages instead of just carys, which is why i brought them to the appointment.

she compared, commented, complimented.

so i get home and realise i haven’t checked to see if frugal blake made it home safely, i call my mother and boom, my cell phone rings and it is my counsellor.

SHE HAD REARRANGED HER DAY ESPECIALLY FOR ME (which suggests i am in dire need of assistance) and I LET HER DOWN.

i also let me down.

very ticked off. i hate being seen as an unreliable feckless person. worse, it was only my second appointment and so she doesnt’ really have an idea of who i am, ie: all talk no action, if i am a person who is normally late (NO! NO! NO!) or if i am one of those people who makes appointments and then doesn’t show. i guess that is common when people meet a counsellor, not to follow through.

oh WHY haven’t i been in counselling for years!! a client she knows!

it’s like i don’t appreciate the effort she made for me. i do! i do! but i forgot! i had the appointment down as four pm, BUT IT WAS AT NOON. and if you look at the 12 noon entry on my daytimer, it does have written her name, BUT I BLANKED OUT THE TIME. I MUST STOP DOODLING!

clearly, i need a counsellor more than ever, because i like myself and the haphazard way i am conducting my life LESS than ever.

ANGRY!

ps – but pretty good news at the physio so the day wasn’t a total loss.