We choked!

Lexi has always had a knack of eating really quickly, something she’s probably picked up from her dad or uncle Matt, which usually leads to some form of coughing, spluttering, false-alarm choking – and two freaked out parents. You see, Spen and I have an irrational (or maybe it’s rational, but we’re parents so nothing is irrational I suppose) fear that Lexi is going to choke, and we won’t be able to do anything about it ie save her).

Last week, our worst nightmare almost came true.

I was chatting to Spen on the phone while Lex ate her dinner, I was half watching her, half chatting, when i glimpsed over and saw her struggling to breathe. I said to Spen, “Shit, she’s choking” – and I hung up on him (first mistake).

This wasn’t a false alarm, this was the real deal, a piece of paw paw had wedged itself in her airway, and she literally, couldn’t breathe. I whipped her out of her chair, flung her over my legs and started hitting her on her back – seven thuds later, the piece of paw paw flew out her mouth. In the aftermath, she started vomiting, so i had to help her out before I could phone Spen back and tell him everything was ok. In the interim, he had tried to phone me and I didn’t pick up – for said reason above.

As soon as I could (four minutes later), I called Spen, but his phone was engaged. I tried again, same story. Two more times, and I still couldn’t reach him. After five more minutes, the line eventually connected, and he answered in an absolute panicked, hysterical state. I have never heard my husband so freaked out in all the 13 years we’ve been together! I could hear he was driving, i could hear he couldn’t talk because he had assumed the worse (as would I have), and i could hear sirens around him.

Once I told him she was ok, all Spen could say was, I’m going to jail, I’m going to jail. The sirens were those of the Metro Police who had followed (read chased) him all the way home, under the assumption he had stolen his own car. We won’t mention the speed he was going to warrant being chased. Completely inconsolable, he handed the phone over to the Metro cops who asked me if this was indeed an emergency, and was everything ok,  – because they had reason to believe otherwise. I assured them it was indeed an emergency, that my daughter had choked, but that she was fine now – they asked if I needed assistance, and I assured them she was fine. They also offered to drive Spen home.

In all the pandemonium, Spen had mumbled he’d called an ambulance and that they’d be there now. Trying to get what ambulance out of him was another challenge in itself. When I finally did, I called then to cancel the dispatched vehicle, which took about three minutes to do – I explained what had happened, and they agreed to cancel the call out. However, two short minutes later, my intercom rang, and it was the fire brigade, with fireman in tow. I then had to explain to them too that Lexi was fine, that she had choked, but she was ok now. They asked if they could come up and check her out to make sure, but I assured them that she was 100% – as she was now dancing to Teletubbies in the background.

I then tried to call Spen back, and he didn’t answer – three calls later – he eventually picked up, but I could hear he was in a total state of shock, he couldn’t feel his arms and he was mumbling to me. I wanted to pick him up, but he insisted he was ok to drive the 500m to our house. Which he did.

I really didn’t know how I was going to react or what I should say when he got home, except that I was completely mortified that I had put him through all that – and how sorry I was for hanging up on him in the first place.

A vile of Rescue Remedy later, he calmed down and we started to process what had happened.

This incident made me realise some things – that I need to share

• Never ever hang up on a loved one in a crisis – always have a plan of action if something like this was to ever happen to you
• In the absence of information – people assume the negative – rightfully so – we need to ensure this never happens again, and again, have a plan
• The reaction and complete understanding of our emergency services – from the Metro cops, to the call centre who managed our calls, to the fireman who arrived at our gate – has completely humbled me. I cannot thank them enough for the speed in which they reacted, and the empathy they showed both Spencer and myself in a situation that doesn’t always have such a happy ending
• We need to stop complaining about how bad things are – because there are people out there who really want to help us, and will do everything they can to make sure we are safe
• Do a first aid course
• The fierce love Spen has for Lexi is bigger than anything I have ever seen – and it moved me to tears
• I never want to be in that situation again
• Above anything else in the world – our greatest fear is losing our child. I am thankful for every day that we get to spend together, and I will do anything to protect her.
• We love you Lexi, more than you will ever know!

Keep it real!

Sleep tight

I, like many moms out there, was severely sleep deprived for over 8 months. Typing it out, it doesn’t seem so bad, but when you’re in the throws of waking up 4-6 times a night, you start to lose your sense of humour.

It, however, became my normal. I could cope, I could get through the day, an extra cup of coffee here and there, a nap in the afternoon – but all this was while I was still on maternity leave. Those precious four months you get to spend trying to figure out how to bring up a tiny person the best way you know how. It’s 80% instinct, 20% intervention.

But the real struggle hit home when I went back to work. Between the two parents we figured out a routine where we’d aim for one hour on, one hour off. This soon became one night on one night off. Then it became one week on, one week off, and when that didn’t work – we hired a night nurse for one night a week. And how I longed for that night to arrive!

But when she left, it was back to reality, and back to waking every two or so hours through the night. Even when it wasn’t my turn, I habitually and instinctively woke every time she whimpered, said eh, rolled over or cried.

After five months of no sleep, we attempted sleep training, our own version of course, and a no nonsense tough love approach. Boy did we fail. Parents, don’t try this at home without the help and guidance of an experienced someone who has a. done it themselves successfully or b. written a book about it.

She screamed blue murder for three nights, until we caved and went back to feeding her every two or so hours. Rewind: there is some history to this two hour feeding thing.

When Lex was born, she was four weeks early. I now realise I was completely unprepared (as are we all) and so out of my depth, that I listened to everything anyone told me, from mid-wives, to nurses, to other moms who have gone before me. Bad idea. The hospital told me to ‘top her up’ with formula. Which I did for the three days we were there. Then we returned home, and on advice form a sister at a clinic, I was told under no circumstances to top my child up as she must be purely breast fed.

Two problems here, there was no milk, and well, there was no milk. So for 36 hours I starved my child. She screamed for this entire duration, I panicked, she turned yellow, really yellow, and we landed up back at the hospital only 36 hours after leaving it. And Lex was admitted with severe jaundice and dehydration. I had starved my child! Try dealing with that blow four days after becoming a mom!

Anyway, she was admitted for a week, rehydrated, brought back to a Caucasian tone, and released back into my care. OH my oath – why would anyone entrust me with my own child when I had clearly starved her for her first few days of life??

And that’s when the paranoia set in. If Lexi cried, I’d feed her, if she whimpered, I’d feed her, she woke up, I fed her, she slept, I’d wake her to feed her. I was so beside myself with worry that I’d starve her again, that I got her into a routine of snacking every two hours. Naturally she couldn’t sustain herself through the night, which led to her waking every two hours. Sometimes more frequently. And each time she did, I’d feed her.

At seven months, we attempted sleep training again, and let her cry for a week – because this time, the books aid you have to leave them and they’ll eventually get the message. Not my Lex. It was heart breaking, and amidst all of this, I was constantly reminded by parents of children who don’t sleep, that children, well, don’t sleep. And I better get used to it. But I refused to accept this. So off we went to the Chiropractor, there must be something wrong with her back, neck, shoulder, who knows, but the Chiro could surely fix her. And 10 short minutes into the appointment, I was met with an answer I so desperately didn’t want to hear – “There’s nothing wrong with her!”.

It was also around this time that Spencer (husband) said to me one evening, “Stop trying to fix her, she’s not broken.” To which I replied through clenched jaws, “I know that, but I AM”.

And on went my pursuit to find one nights sleep. Just one. A friend recommended a programme, which is a gentle form of sleep training coupled with a correct routine and feeding schedule. I was hesitant, but was willing to try anything. Night one wasn’t great, but on night two, she slept through. My life changed that very morning.

But, and there is a but, I still hold onto those long days that followed those sleepless nights, and to this day, if Lexi moans, cries briefly, or is a little unsettled, I find myself panicking that she’s going to go back to not sleeping. And it really freaks me out! Last night was a bad night, she’s either got gastro or is teething, and she woke at 2am and didn’t fall asleep again until 4am. I am absolutely shattered, I nearly fell asleep while driving this afternoon, and I am just about to go to bed. It’s 9pm!

So to all you parents who are struggling with sleepless nights, please know that every child has the capacity to sleep, it’s up to you to help them get there. And when they do, you will be so grateful that you listened to yourself and persevered. I carry this statement that was said to me: Nicky, it takes 27 days to die from starvation, it takes 11 days to die from sleep deprivation – the choice is yours…

We all have to sleep, for how long at a time is the choice.

Keep it real :)

N

The things people say

I have a pregnant friend, we go for walks quite often and chat about this and that as we go. She’s 24 weeks now and is looking absolutely amazing, she has a 13 months old son as well – so for her second baby, she’s a model mom! We were puffing our way up a hill one chilly afternoon, when we got talking about the sex of her baby, and how exciting it has been to find out that it’s a boy again. The first time she didn’t find out – and she reckons knowing has a lot of positives.

Then she told me about the things people have been saying to her, when they ask her if she knows what she’s having this time. When she replies ‘a boy’ – various comments were passed.

“Ah shame, you’re not going to have a pigeon pair, you’ll just have to try again for your girl” or “Two boys, weren’t you hoping for a girl” or “Two boys are going to be such a handful, especially both being so young”. WOW, I mean WOW. Really people?

There are few things that I’m as passionate about as being a mother, having been pregnant, and struggling for almost two years to fall pregnant. So when people say things like that – I just want to slap them.

Firstly, falling pregnant so soon after having a baby is a flipping miracle in itself – the fact that it just happened so easily, so unplanned, is amazing, and not very common nowadays.

Secondly, the fact that she is growing another life is also a miracle – be it a boy or a girl – you cannot CHOOSE these things. You get what you get – and should feel blessed no matter what it is.

Thirdly, can you imagine if someone said those things to you – how hurt you’d probably be.

Whether you find out or don’t – it really doesn’t matter what sex child you have, he or she chose you, and knowing that you had absolutely no control over that process is the best gift you could ever ask for.

I didn’t find out what I was having, and when I saw she was a girl, I was absolutely over-joyed. Had she been a boy, it would have been the exact same response.

Many people are starting to ask me when we’re planning number two – if only these things could be planned. Little do they know we’ve been hoping for months now, and nothing. I have a long journey ahead of me again, so to all of you in the same boat, keep your head up, keep persevering, because becoming a mother is the best thing that has ever happened to me. To become a mom for a second time, is something I hope for every day.

Keep it real

N

Don’t sweat the small stuff

So many of us do it, so many of us choose to do it – working, running and raising a family (with dad’s help of course), socialising, seeing friends and family – we make it look easy, we take it in our stride. We call ourselves super-moms, or just moms – whatever your beat – we manage.

Or do we?

I chose to go back to work four months into my little person’s life. I hired a nanny, got my ducks in a row, and off I went. I thought it’d be easy, I made it look easy. But deep down inside, there was this sinking, lingering pressure – a pressure i couldn’t quite describe or pinpoint, but something I knew was there – all the time.

I structured my work-life balance so that there was time in the afternoon to spend with my baby, to watch her grow, thrive, learn, and reach all those amazing milestones. But this feeling grew, and every time I was 5 minutes late – or had to be somewhere which made me even later – this horrible angst continued to grow. So I started reading up about it - as you do – on Dr. Google. And low and behold, something you have probably all heard of before was revealed – a sneaky, unavoidable thing called ‘mother’s guilt’ was my problem. I had heard of it, and thought it’d never happen to me. But it did, and continues to creep up on me daily if I don’t spend the time with my daughter that she deserves.

I go away on holiday, or a business trip without her of course – and guess who accompanies me – mother’s guilt, I go for a girl’s lunch and spend an extra hour chatting and catching up, or having a glass of vino – and guess who’s right there beside me, yip, mother’s guilt. I hide it well, I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does, and I carry it wherever I go. This big fat red lobster that is attached to my (widened) hips.

I wonder if dad’s feel this – father’s guilt? please shed some light on this for me if you – as a dad, happen to read this and ever experience this kind of feeling ?

Every now and again, I secretly LOVE going out, getting away, spending an hour or two alone – and that makes me – normal! I know that now, and as long as I do take time for me, I am able to be the mother I am supposed to be.

So, in all my (rather limited) wisdom, I have realised that it’s ok to feel all of this, it’s ok to go away, and it’s ok to need me-time. Without these things, I think I’d go insane, and that would be far worse than the hour or day I spend away from my motherly duties – in fact - it probably makes me an even better mom!

Almost a year into my new role as a mom, I am still searching for that perfect definition of balance, a tempered definition of normal, and a way to describe the love I have for a tiny person who looks at me and smiles every time I walk through the door – on time or two hours late. We could all learn from this unconditional love that is inherent in every child, and realise, not to sweat the small stuff!

Keep it real!

N

xx

Going to the chapel–a multi-billion dollar empire

 

I’m no expert on being married, I’ve only been married for 3,5 years now – but I have been with Spen for over 12 years, so I’d like to think I know something about what it means to be in a committed, loving relationship.

There’s so much pressure that society places on us though once we have met our matches, to get on with things as dictated by how things have always been done. Things like getting engaged, getting married, changing your surname, buying a house, having a kid, having another kid, becoming successful, staying married, growing old together and so the story goes on.

The one thing that really gets to me though, is the pressure put on couples to have the perfect wedding day – whether it comes form themselves, or from society, it’s still there.

I also understand that a lot of brides want a fairy tale wedding, myself included, but at what expense? And I’m not just talking financially.

Planning a wedding is an incredibly stressful ordeal. There are so many people involved, all with their own ideas and agendas of how things should be. there’s traditions to uphold or break, there’s wallets to consider or not consider, there’s family to appease or defy, there’s friends to make happy or disappoint. 

I remember my own wedding, which in my opinion was a relatively low-budget wedding. I bought my dress on eBay for one, for which I paid $10.

My $10 ensemble

A family friend made my bridesmaids dresses, my mom made the cake and our bouquets, my mother-in-law did the table arrangements, we even went to the Cape wine lands to pick our own wine, which saved us a small amount on the day.

But even after all of the cost-cutting exercises we performed, my wedding still cost over R100,000 (including our budget honeymoon). That is a lot of money in my opinion to spend on one day – yet when I realise what people are spending on their weddings nowadays, it just feels like we have been forced into a world where it’s all about the wedding day, and not about the days thereafter.

I sound like a cynic, I’m really not. I just understand that not everyone can afford an elaborate wedding, gone are the days of one’s parents being expected to foot the bill, most couples pay for their own weddings, and even then, most probably land up going into masses of amounts of debt to cover the finest details.

So what am I saying? I am saying that it’s just one day in the rest of your lives together as a couple, and when the last glass of bubbly has been drunk, and the last song played – you still have the rest of your lives to get on with things. And I can guarantee you that in one, two or ten years time, no one will remember your vanilla sponge and caramel icing cake, unless a stripper jumped out of it, no one will remember what flowers you chose for your hair, no one will remember that your husband forgot his lucky underpants at home – except you. So don’t put so much pressure on yourself, a wedding is a day of celebration and fun, and my motto was – as long as everyone is full, and the music is cool, you’ll have nothing to worry about.

Here’s are some of my thoughts on being and staying married – I hope I remember them in 20 years time when I’m sitting on the couch, our kids away at varsity , watching season 30 of Desperate Housewives, holding Spen’s hand as we fall asleep together at 20:00 on the couch, on a Saturday night – actually I do that nowadays anyway

• Getting married is probably one of the biggest commitments you’ll ever make to someone – but just remember it’s not about the wedding day
• Getting married is the easy part, staying married is the hard part
• Being married is an amazing adventure, you will learn to love someone like you’ve never loved before
• You don’t always have to do things by the book – make up your own rules
• Love each other unconditionally
• Love yourself unconditionally
• Don’t have expectations – and if you do, remember to communicate them upfront
• Never, ever go to bed angry
• It’s ok to disagree, just remember to tolerate each other’s differences and accept them
• If you play together, you’ll stay together – always have fun
• Say “I Love You” as often as you can
• Kiss and hug each other as often as you can
• Cook together
• Don’t backseat drive
• Always have each other’s back - Never belittle each other in front of friends, family or strangers
• Take your time making changes – if you want to keep your surname, do that, if you want to change it, do that – again, make up your own rules
• Make a date night and stick to it
• Stay healthy for yourself and each other
• You don’t always have to be right
• Say sorry when you’re wrong
• Forgive quickly
• Hold hands in public
• Smile at each other across a crowded room
• Pinch each other’s asses and tell each other you’re gorgeous
• Trust each other
• Have no secrets

Keep it real!

xx

Sixteen

Clothes shopping since I had a baby has not been easy – in fact it’s been mortifying. I used to be comfy size 12 before I fell pregnant, but now… I’ll get to that part.

Not only did my clothes size change – but my body shape is completely different too. For one – I don’t really have a waist anymore, and my once (very long ago) washboard stomach now has a resident pouch. My bum has grown, a lot – and my thighs, yes they’re pretty different too.

I thought it would be easy to lose the weight, I really did. So many people told me, it’ll fall off if you breastfeed. I have read mags that all say – do this to get your pre-pregnancy shape back. Do that to look like you did at 18. Do this and your boobs will regain their shape. Do that and your bum will look like J-Lo’s. And the pressure was on. I remember one particular day very clearly, Lexi was 16 weeks old, and I was moaning about not losing weight fast enough at a girl’s breakfast. To which I received a resounding reply – IT’S ONLY BEEN FOUR MONTHS.

It suddenly felt ok that I was still 10kgs overweight. But then at eight months, I recall having a similar melt down, only to be met with – maybe you should join the gym, and here’s an eating plan. That’s when everything hit home. If I don’t do something about this weight very soon, it’s going to become a resident evil that I’ll have to carry around with me forever.

Back to clothes shopping – I have popped into Woolies, Jo Borkett, Forever New (large people don’t even bother going in there – seriously, the clothes are all so beautiful but they’re made for super skinny people – just a warning, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.) on the odd occasion, only to leave empty handed. I know there are clothes out there that will fit me, but I’m not quite prepared to accept that I’m a size 16!! – there I said it. That is one number I am so afraid of, I hide the labels on the hanger so people won’t see what size I’m trying on, I try and fold the waist in so it’s looks smaller when I hand them back to the fitting room room attended – all so that no one really knows what size I am.

How stupid is that – they don’t care what size I am. But I do. I really really do. And as long as I don’t accept it, I will be able to lose the weight.

I even find myself hiding from photos nowadays – because when I see myself I usually hit delete.

My biggest motivator is that I want to be fit and healthy, so that I can keep up with the antics of an almost one year old. I also want to lose this weight before i fall pregnant again, because I am not about to write another post down the line complaining that I now have 20kgs to lose!

Am I putting myself under unnecessary pressure? I don’t think so. I think we need to love our bodies, and protect them. We need to carry them for many many years – so it’s up to me to make sure that I do this for myself in the best way possible.

It has now been 10 months and I still have 10kgs to lose – but I am finally off the couch. I have set an intention to run the Knysna half-marathon in July. I have entered, hell I even bought the t-shirt.

And now, I’m off on a training run with Spen – he’s my coach, he ran 10kms yesterday, he’s never run 10kms in all the time I’ve known him, which is 12 years – so that makes him my hero. If he can do it, then so can I (that’s my competitive streak talking now).

I am also joining boot camp after the Easter hols – Spen reminded me that this was a much better option than joining a gym, because even though you’re competing against yourself, it’s the competition that motivates me. And the fact that I have an appointment, and that I’m not the only one suffering.

So I leave you with this: If you don’t love your body – then nobody else will!

Keep it real.

xxx

Baby travels–Part 2

It has taken me a while to write the follow up to Baby Travels – Part 1 because it was such a horrible experience that I really wouldn’t want anyone else to experience – ever.

I sound a bit dramatic, I know, but for me, it rates up there as an incredibly negative part of our holiday, but definitely something worth sharing.

We arrived at Heathrow in good time to fly home on Virgin Atlantic. Three and a half hours to be exact. Everything was going smoothly until the bag x-ray machine part. We had three backpacks – laden to the max and packed very carefully to ensure everything we would need on the plane would fit in, from formula, to baby food, to a flask with hot water to 17 changes of clothing for Lexi – not to mention my handbag and the stroller. Spen often refers to himself as packhorse James – he wasn’t kidding this time.

Four bags (and the stroller) had to go through the machine – and BAM – stop, stop, stop AND stop – all four bags were put aside for searching. So was I as I beeped when I walked through. One full body search later (cavities excluded) – I had to wait for a nice Indian man to go to the loo and wash his hands before he’d proceed to search every pocket of every bag of ours – there’s nothing you can do about it except wait patiently – and try not look guilty. This was after three of them argued for 15 minutes about who would have to do the search.

Once agreed, the process began. OMG – and for all you parents out there travelling with a baby – READ THIS PART – I had to taste EVERYTHING we had packed for Lexi. The water, the baby food in sealed containers, the baby food in unsealed containers, the formula, the rice cakes – you name it. Some guy standing next to us pipes us – "shame what if it’s poisoned", to which the searcher replied – "well at least she dies and not everyone on the plane"! I MEAN REALLY!

This went on for about 45 minutes – and the angst on Spen’s face as his duty free shopping time was slowly dwindling before his eyes was highly apparent. We finally passed the scan test - poison, chemical and bomb free – and hurried our way over to the shopping mecca that is Heathrow Duty free – only to be greeted by a wall of people. Thursday must clearly be the busiest night to travel at Heathrow, we couldn’t move and felt like sardines packed into a can. Shopping trip fail! But on the brighter side we saved money I guess.

Our boarding call arrived – and we were off – holding thumbs that this leg of the journey would be highly uneventful and we could make up for the horrible experience on the way over. Sigh - no such luck! Back in the bulk head seats, but this time a different plane. The two seats next to me were initially unoccupied – and i almost thought we’d be lucky enough to have them free again for the trip home. Again – no such luck. And who should arrive – but the largest, smelliest, woman and her 18 month old daughter – neither who had flown before! Save me now! I looked at Spen and he started laughing – this laughing bout ended very quickly. Here’s why.

Said child of hers started screaming,I’m not talking the kind when you can still hear yourself talking, I’m talking the kind where the air hostess had to ask if everything was ok – the doors to the plane hadn’t even closed yet.

Babies have to be strapped to a parent for take off, turbulence, and landing. This did not sit with with that kid – who clearly has never been disciplined or restrained for any amount of time – IN HER LIFE.

Screeching and wriggling ensued - this kid was doing everything in her power not to sit on her mom’s lap, while her mom was doing everything in her power to ignore the situation. She even tried lunging off her mother at one stage – who didn’t quite fit into the seat in the first place – and the now hostile air hostess was in panic mode as the plane hit the gas – but chose to ignore the situation.

Thank G-d the seat belt light eventually went off and the kid was free. She was like the bloody energizer bunny – and kept disappearing. Her mother did nothing about it. Initially we exchanged polite pleasantries, but after half an hour i too became somewhat hostile – made dagger stares at the kid every time it returned.

It’s at this point that I turned to see why the yelling had stopped, only to see her mother had whipped out the largest boob I have ever seen and proceeded to shove it in the kid's mouth – the kid was standing having dinner – well i thought that was dinner – and anything to shut her up right?

No such luck on the dinner thing – out popped a can of sour cream and onion Pringles! Yes everyone, Pringles, the chip kind! Oh – here’s the best part – and a bottle of Coke! Not diluted, the real deal! She was in heaven, I was quietly dying in anticipation of the aftermath of the coke and chip onslaught to an 18 month old child. To add insult to injury, her ‘mother’ then gave her a Pepsi as well – and waited for the adverse chemical reaction to take place. It was this point that I turned to the mother and said – i really don’t think Coke at 22:30 is a good idea – for anyone! There was no reply from the ‘mother’.

It didn’t take long for the effects of her highly nutritious meal to kick in – the screaming began, the bunny was revived and off she went. I’ve never seen anything like it. Parents – please please please don’t give your children Coke – ever! let alone in a confined aeroplane with 250 other people who have to endure the adverse reaction. This poor kid bounced off the walls for three hours – every time Spen, Lexi or I nodded off, she’d check in for a boob feed, a screaming fit or another slug of Coke and she was off screaming on the other end of the plane.

She finally passed out from sheer exhaustion at 2:45 am – it was excruciating, and made me realise that parenting, no matter where or who you are in the world, has certain ground rules and should follow some form of common sense – sure I have never been a parent before Lexi, but i sure as hell know what not to give a kid on a plane – or anywhere for that matter.

But, I leave you with this – don’t judge a person until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes – did I get to know this mother who I now think is the worst mother in the world? No, Did i bother to? No – should I have? Probably yes. Then, just maybe, I would be able to understand why she treats her child the way she does – and possibly even be able to give her someParenting101 advice  – not that I’m an expert, but at least I know the basics. At least I know for next time.

Keep it real!
N