Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Neither Invisible Nor Invincible

I couldn't resist him. 

I kissed and kissed and hugged and smothered Yakob with love. I thought I was invisible to his virus. 

Friday morning, as I drove home with the kids, I started coughing. By nap time, I could only whisper as I read books to Miro. And to think I was going to run in the rain last Thursday night! I am not invincible. I must repeatedly convince myself. 

I was early in bed Friday night. Feeling cold, feverish and weak. I have never felt this sick for a long time now. I would have the occasional cold and cough and a day of rest was enough for me. 

Maybe Saturday the whole day in bed will do. I drank lots of fluids, and the babies were herded off from my corral by the Lovely Sgt. Nik so I could sleep, undisturbed. But every whimper and laughter and shout of glee and scream of disgust would wake me up. 

Our weekday helper had left and our weekend helper couldn't make it too. Her husband was sick. Our stay-in helper had an eye infection and asked to be sent home to rest. 

My ever-reliable Hubby performed his magic tricks: early morning market, cooking, bathing the babies and Kuya and Ate were his strong back-up team. By afternoon, he decided to get my temp (39C!) and commanded that I took medicine. He wanted me to be alright for Mother's Day the next day. 

I think I have, through 20 years of motherhood, overcome the struggle of being able to relax on Mother's Day. But I have an issue about getting sick. Specially when it's Mother's Day and there's no house help. 

Oh, God help me get out of this sick bed, and this sadness. 

Night time came and though I was still ill, I felt so encouraged by how Team Wafooms did it, without me, serving me even like a Queen. A sick ngongo barking Queen.

I wake up to a sunny Mother's Day. As usual my alarm was the sound from the babies' room. 

I'm feeling much better. I know the flu requires days of recovery but that doesn't mean I can't party. In my bed. 


Thursday, June 6, 2013

REPOST: “Why Go Through the Trouble”

(A Blog Article for MommySteps.com.ph Written 111011)

It was sad.  I just found out my close friend didn’t get to breastfeed her kids.  As she watched me nurse my newborn, she told me how she wished she had.  She is such an inspiring woman, gave up her career to be a fulltime mom.  She had medical practitioners like her in her family, and surrounded by loving people, but nobody cheered her on when she struggled about nursing.  No one assured her that the hard part was going to be over.

I can so understand her.  I know how it feels to be anxious about milk supply.  I’ve seen my eldest struggle just to latch on, and cry almost unceasingly out of frustration.  I went through the day with so little time to eat, sleep, and go to the bathroom, being at the beck and call of a tiny infant every 1½ hours!  I smelled of spoiled breastmilk, lungad, pee, sweat and tears all day.  I never thought it was going to be that difficult.  My Ate warned me that the first time the baby sucks, it would be so painful, your toes will curl up and exchange places with each other!  And she was so right.   I prayed so hard it would be over soon.  And like my Lamaze experience, just when I wanted to give up, it was soon over.   I toughened up as baby Mishka and I bonded, and the rest is magical history.

I have since then, for 17 years now, been a breastfeeding fan.  But, no, I never imagined to be one.  I was too young to remember being breastfed as a baby.  All I could recall was the comforting sensation from sucking milk through a yummy rubber nipple on a heavy glass bottle.  I did not get exposed to women breastfeeding in my family, except my mom, who nursed my younger sister for a few weeks as Mama had to go back to work. And somehow it felt awkward.  Funny how such a natural thing, wasn’t normal in my experience.  Maybe it’s because aside from having a career woman-mom, I was urbanized, and was from a generation which regarded formula as most superior.  We did not have ads saying “Breastmilk is best for babies…” then.

The first convincing pep talk I got about the benefits of breastmilk was when I attended a Lamaze class with my older pregnant sister.  But she worked fulltime after giving birth, and after a few weeks, Ate could not keep up.  As my friends were getting married and pregnant, I witnessed them trying it out and in public(!), even if it was out of their character.  Even though during that time, it wasn’t as acceptable as it is now.  And that was impressive.

At my church and workplace, I met women, both employed and stay-at-home housewives, who breastfed.  One even did until her child was age 4.  That was highly unimaginable for me. 

Yet, I gave it a try.  And by God’s grace, I hurdled the first months of engorged heavy feverish breasts; sore, cracked, bleeding nipples; sleeplessness; backaches; pumping rituals; crying over spilled and spoiled stored milk; and not being able to just get up and go whenever I wanted, without tagging baby along.  Every trip out of the house was a production number.  It was tiring, tense-filled, terrible, troublesome.  

But I went through it nevertheless.  I found out how much convenient it was to breastfeed than bottlefeed!  Aside from my Ate who started me off in it, who with my mom would place pillows around me to make nursing as comfy as possible, and my parents-in-law who cheered me on, I could not count on anyone else to be La Leche League for me.  I had books, but even my pedia wasn’t really for it, too.  She didn’t have a pleasant experience nursing her firstborn as the baby was allergic to her milk.

But I was blessed to have a circle of moms who encouraged me, and househelp to manage the household, and take over during toxic moments.  I have a very supportive husband who patiently takes care of our babies, so I could take a break.  One night, as I was crying in the shower, in duet with my eldest crying in my husband’s arms, I heard my hubby shout in pain.  He had playfully tried to comfort our baby by offering his breast, only to be grabbed by our son’s voracious mouth.  If he could nurse, he would!

Why go through the trouble three more times?  Because as the advertisements proclaim and studies prove: breastmilk IS best for baby.  Breastfeeding saves us from the big bills purchasing cans of milk, vitamins, and medicines, and spares us from hospital expenses as baby rarely gets sick. But more importantly, it gives me deep joy, outweighing all the distress.  I marvel at how God has so designed my body to share of its strength.  He created my body to nourish and nurture a life dependent on me, to communicate security and love to my little one, to constantly stay by him to bond with and express my deep commitment to, to ensure a powerful immune system and a healthy emotional and intellectual development for him, to regenerate and rebuild itself through the process, to powerfully fight cancer and other dreadful diseases it is prone to, and yes, to feel loved in return.  The baby makes sure you feel it.  As she feeds, she stares at you, and flashes smiles at you, unequalled by any word of gratitude.  And when he grows up, he stays close.  And grateful.

I used to think breastfeeding was all for baby’s sake until I discovered it is all for me too.