Birth Plans and Pains Part 2

So we're roughly 27 weeks in with pregnancy number 2. It's a boy. We have a name already, but since we don't know if the baby will look like the name we like, we're going to wait 'til the kid's actual birth day before we spill.

Meanwhile, I've been scouting for birthing possibilities again. Despite the first birthing being a success, the bad vibes that followed with the inter-local health zone has left me looking for a new OB or midwife and a bad taste in my mouth for the govt. I thought maybe after a couple of years and a new administration, we would find more progressive alternatives within Cebu.

But no, the home birth ban is still in effect, water birthing is still considered experimental, and I have yet to meet a health official in these parts who's actually done the research or at least has data. My apprehensions all boil down to hospitals not likely to forgo their procedures for the sake of one crazy mother's request: umbilical non-severance.

Why umbilical non-severance?  

90 seconds to change the world | Alan Greene | TEDxBrussels ...

During the aftermath of Malaya's birthing, I didn't want to move out of the bed. We slept there together, Malaya, Chris and I. he didn't sleep as much as newborns were expected to, he was alert and would stare at everything. He didn't drool, he didn't act hungry (making the nene crying sound, or opening and closing his mouth, or cry at all) for the first 2 days (exactly the amount of time it took for my milk to come in) and didn't start seriously latching until then. He didn't lose any of his birth weight as most newborns are expected to. In short, he didn't act like someone who'd lost a third of his blood. He kicked his own cord off on the 5th day, and it came off clean. This experience has had such a profound effect on me and my partner that we cannot imagine WHY fathers would want the "honor" of cutting off the baby's cord.

These were taken at 6 days old and show you how clean his bellybutton looks. My mom told me it took two weeks before my stump healed when I was a baby.

If there's anything to prove that it will be difficult for me to deliver safely without intervention, that's the only time I'll be comfortable with going to the hospital. I can give birth dry, as long as I'm allowed to labor in water (water birth has proven to actually speed the first stage of labor folks!). If I suddenly develop diarrhea I won't even consider the water. I don't mind giving birth in a lying in clinic, as long as they let us keep the placenta attached.

But one thing that's been repeated to me over and over, even by sympathetic health care providers, was that Philippine hospitals and health officials will NOT compromise their assumptions for experiments they would be liable for, or if successful, would not be able to repeat for lack of budget to change the system.

And this is the problem with my country in general. If there is a way that is better, more progressive, more efficient , but would require a system overhaul, you can bet your placenta that it will meet resistance. Not just from those who benefit from the system, but also from those who are too exhausted to fight it.

The beast feeds itself.

Plus one

So.... baby numero dos is on its way.

The boy is 3 years old now, and while there is a lot to say about his development, we've started keeping a physical portfolio for that, eliminating the need to journal here. Also, he's quickly growing into his own person and I think he prefers Superman to Aquaman (despite my desperate attempts to shield him from cartoons and pop culture. T_T)

Back to baby number 2. I'm 13 weeks into the pregnancy, still no idea what kind of sea monster this one's going to be so I'll talk about what it's like to go back to square one, albeit with toddler (or official child?) in tow.

This wasn't a completely accidental baby, as the partner and I had been open to the possibility of ending up with another "accident". To be honest, I'd been making the father creature read up on ideal age gaps between siblings and he'd chide me with "look for another sperm donor".

Mao ra'y gidangat.

I swear I didn't count on getting knocked up again though, my period's been irregular since Mr Kracken came along, so I had no way to measure ovulation and stuff.

Okay, too much info already. That's not what you're here for. You wanna know what it's going to be.

DRUMROLL PLEASE....

....

....

....

We don't know yet. SORRY GUYS.

If it's another boy, I expect hurricanes. If it's another girl, I expect a pouty boy. We asked future kuya if he wants a boy or a girl (as if expressing your wishes ever changes the X or Y component of the fertilizing sperm. Lol) and he insists he wants a minion. Hay nako.

I read up on the ramzi method, but we'd been out of the country for a month and weren't able to get that ultrasound until much too late to see whether the fetus was lying on the right or left side.

But it's healthy. Last ultrasound indicated it still had a tail, that was 3 weeks ago. The next check up isn't until after next week. 

I was warned that all pregnancies are different. One notable difference is that I'm not constantly panicking over whether I'm doing the right thing or not. I'm not being as anal about what I'm eating (altho I think I really should be). Another is the near constant morning sickness. I don't remember nausea being this bad the first go. The whole time we were in said other country (murica, the land of milk and munies), I couldn't stomach anything but berries and soup. When we got back, there were no more berries and puking nearly every night. I can't wait to be done with the first trimester.

Last pregnancy, I was in constant awe of ever single milestone. Now I just want to get this over with. The first trimester at least. I am not enjoying the fact that I'd just started getting in gym shape, and now I have no energy to reach my toes (while I still can). The puking is keeping me from turning into a blimp this early, but I haven't been able to get any exercise. I hope things change in the next few weeks though.

I am a little bit worried about how life could change with another kid. We were only starting to have lives again! I was beginning to have a career! Stuff like that. On the other hand, I really did want another, and one not too far away from the first so that we wouldn't have to go back to absolute zero. Certainly not when I'm too old to have worry free pregnancies. I don't know if I want to give birth after 30.

As far as similarities go, I still get crazy pregnancy dreams (but I don't need to be pregnant to have those), still intend to waterbirth, still intend to lotus birth, still intend to attachment parent. Trouble is, I doubt my previous OB will still attend to me. I still haven't found an OB in Cebu who would be open to my preferred birthing method. I checked out options in Murica but am confused about what it means to give birth there without insurance or citizenship.

So I'm gritting my teeth, trying to recall how painful the first time was. I think 3 years really is enough time to forget the ring of fire and start missing baby coo's and sly baby winks.

Which isn't to say I am not enjoying the first one's boyhood. Maybe I feel ready because he's starting to become more independent. He has more favorite people now, and he doesn't need to breastfeed anymore (partially because I've been turning him away because sore breasts during pregnancy are the worst), altho he still does sometimes for comfort. 

So we'll see. In the meantime, any suggestions for baby names?

We have a noisy toddler

Most of you ninangs already know the boy's been big on banging things since he was 10 months old. I blame daddy's album launch, when we took him to the gig. I also blame Uncle Karl Boy* who let the small one sit on the drums after a The Pervs gig at the now defunct Outpost.

I don't want to make it a big deal, but it's important to him. He no longer says his name when you ask him. He says "Drummer ko."

There was a point when he'd insist on watching drum cover videos all the time. So Meytal Cohen videos as soon as he'd wake up, and then more Meytal before he went to sleep.

And then he got to this phase where he'd listen to nothing but From Can to Can't (from Dave Grohl's Sound City album).

Every time we went somewhere that had a drum set, we'd have to wrestle him away from the set. It's especially embarrassing when there's ALREADY a band playing.

Mamita got him a plastic drum set that for a time was his everyday thing. At first the beats were just noise, accompanying the hum of us praying the landlord doesn't evict us.

And then over time the noise started acquiring order, and we realised the boy could do 16 beats.

Nobody taught him how to drum. Now and then Chris would point out what the names of all the different parts of his drum set were until that set broke down and he took to turning our foldable chairs into a set, announcing which seat was which drum. This is how we plan to educate him - by exposure, encouraging his interests by asking questions and by guiding him to relevant information.

The drumming died down with his discovery of Peppa Pig and the English language, shapes and colors. Numbers are still sort of a learning curve, but he likes singing to them. (Note: If you want to get your kids started on the alphabet and reading and you have an Ipad, download Endless Alphabet and the other apps. We just left the apps on the ipad and he found them himself, so it wasn't forced. Yes we do screen time. We are conscious about the adverse effects and assure you that's not all he does.)

And then Imadyina regrouped and we couldn't find a babysitter for our first rehearsal. So we took him to the studio and now the drumming's returned big time.

He's liked System of a Down for some time. One night, we noticed he was actually playing along.

Now before you get excited, this is important: He's still learning. We try to keep ourselves from gushing, and truth is when you're exposed to the banging 24/7, it doesn't get an extreme response from us. Please don't make it a big deal that he's a toddler playing the drums. By drummer standards, he's not even that good yet. He just enjoys doing it and enjoys learning, I wouldn't want him to do it to serve as entertainment. Yes, we've seen all of the baby drum videos on youtube. Our goal is not to get a spot on Ellen. Children don't know how to handle too much attention.

So enough yawyaw na from mommy.

*Karl says every family has an Uncle Boy. He's taken it upon himself to honor the tradition.

How to spot a fake hands-on-mom

You don't.

You just don't.

You don't check women's nails; you don't see if their eyebrows are perfect; you DO NOT ask them if there's a yaya or a hands-on-daddy willing to take the weight off. Unless of course you're willing to give them a couple seconds' respite. We all have different experiences and different situations. Unsa man ka, fashion police?

There's an article circulating facebook, about how you're supposed to spot fake hands on moms.

I saw it twice, one from a very hands on fashion blogger friend (no yayas in America); and from a mommy who has a supportive tribe. Both of them were upset by the generalisations of the article. I had to read it too.

Someone should tell the author it takes a village to raise a child. Someone should tell her about postpartum depression. Someone should tell the author this kind of combative language does not help us at all.

What if you're a single mother and you have the sort of job where you're required to wear high heels and nails? What if you leave them with someone in the morning and return to them - to the baby food, the diapers, the sleepless nights in the evening? Does that make you a "fake" hands-on-mom?

I wonder how many more mothers were upset by the tone of this article.

I wonder how many more mothers are trying to still retain a sense of self after all the pressure to become second to their children.

I wonder how many more mothers buy this line of thinking.



That the only valid mother is the sort who disappears.



If I were to let my narrative be defined by this article, I would say that I belong to the fake hands on mom category.

I put makeup on to cover the dark circles around my eyes from 3am feedings. I get a mani-pedi whenever I can (which is whenever my mom's around so we can take turns watching Malaya). I can't help color coordinated outfits. We happen to have a very detailed grooming ritual where the boy is a full participant. It also takes hours for us to get ready to go out (and even THAT's a rare event).

We have a helper who comes in the mornings to do laundry and clean the house. Sometimes she helps out with the boy. Half of the time, daddy carries/wrestles/talks to him. In the mornings he talks to his mamita over facetime. We are also (still) breastfeeding. We are also doing a hundred things "wrong", and I am constantly in shambles wondering if I'm raising the next Jack-the-Ripper.

I also happen to think I am in charge of taking care of myself. Sometimes I feel guilty for taking the time away from the boy when I'm writing. But I've trained him to entertain himself so I can have some ME-time as well. And when I'm done with my time, and he's done with his alone time, my attention is fully with him and he is focused on me. No matter if we are playing, or grooming, or eating, or whatever. He is healthy and happy. And that to me is all that matters.

I wish the article instead said "It's okay to be imperfect mommy. So am I."

Celebrating One Year of Baby Love Part2: The Babylove

There was so much to look forward to for April. Aside from the boy turning a year old, Game of Thrones season 4 was rolling in. If HBO does keep it going for 8 seasons (and if they can finish the story by then) that means we're halfway through!

While we have been letting him watch some episodes with us, he's started protesting against the blood and gore. It's made us realize several things:

1. He's going to vote eventually.

2. GoT isn't for small summer children. Must change child's bedtime to Before-We-Start-Watching O'Clock.

3. We have a small child who will someday learn the ways of the world.

4. We will have a teenager who will snicker at his "Throner" parents the way I did my late Trekkie dad.

While this boy is still a decade and some away from being that teenager, we've compiled blackmail material clips of his year so far. Warning: has maternal nudity. NSFW

The year certainly felt longer than these 15 minutes, and every moment of it was magical. We're starting to get the hang of this parenting business too.

His developing personality is fun to discover. If he can go somewhere, or get into something by himself, he will try first (and probably fall and recover many times) before ever asking for help. This could be a bad thing and a good thing.

He's learned how to mock cry, to threaten us (with his fingers dangling precariously close to the electric sockets), to put his fingers in my mouth when we're crying/singing/waking up.

He's learned that cats are mimings, and that pictures in books and screens of cats are also mimings, but he hasn't learned that dogs are not mimings.

He waves goodbye enthusiastically when it's time to go. He waves goodbye even more enthusiastically when he WANTS to go (regardless of whether it is time to go or no).

And he absolutely loves water.

And we love you little man.

Celebrating One Year of Baby Love Part1: The Party

We had a full month. I'm not even kidding. We moved houses, sold food at two different fairs, planned the birthday party, had the birthday party (and several surprise parties after from different people).

As for the birthday party...

Paperless and free! Yay for evite.com

We made edible nontoxic paints.

I swear it was only food coloring and flour.

the older kids went along, but I have to admit this was too kindergarten for some.

the smaller ones were totally down.

absolutely down.

 Parents played along too.

Squishy!

And then Malaya woke up. By this point, the paints had already been set aside and everyone was done washing up. So all there was left was to sing birthday songs for the celebrants.

Superman cake c/o Tita Arlene Villa

Another little lady was turning 9 in 3 days, so there was no way she was not getting to blow her own candle.

We sang for Malaya and April, and then they blew out their candles.

Malaya got a little help blowing his candle out from Lola Nanay. His "One" shirt was sent over by the Mamita.

We strung paper circles together for curtains. The paper was c/o magazines my friends offered for sacrifice.

We had a chocolate fountain (c/o T&C Rental) , fruits (c/o Kit and Lolo Jumbo!), lots of cake, pancit, Lola Nanay's chicken lollipops and Tito Mark's mango float for the tykes... 

... and had food catered for the adults c/o RTCM Catering. They were nice enough to make some servings vegetarian-friendly. 

Piñata time!

no palayok? no problem.

party wasn't even halfway through but the celebrants were pooped.

After the small kids went home with goody bags full of the fingerpaint, artwork and candy (sorry parents), the big big kids started playing board games and breaking the booze out.

I blew out 25 candles in a party dress that woulda made my 5-year old self proud.

We also screened a compilation we made of Malaya's first year, which will be up in another post.

Thank you Mamita, Lola Nanay, Lolo Ely, Lola Mama, Lolo Bill, and a handful of benefactors for your contributions to this bash. Yay for grandparents! Thank you also to the friends and family who came and brought gifts for the little boy. Yay for ninongs and ninangs!

Photos were by Eva Marie Gamboa of Picture Trail Studios.

For the rest of this post (CHEESiness! NSFWness!), click me.