Parents never forget their children. Even if they were just together for a day...
The other day I went to the funeral of my sister-in-law's mother, an 80 year old woman who had suffered from Altzheimer's disease for several years. She had shut down almost completely about a month ago, no longer eating or speaking, and by the time death came it was a bit of a relief.
At the luncheon after the funeral, a brother of the deceased approached me and introduced himself. He was a dentist and had heard that I was a neonatologist. He told me of a son that he and his wife had 50 years ago who was born at "eight months" along. The baby had breathing problems and died at the age of one day, and the dentist wanted to know if there had been any progress made in the treatment of such babies and diseases.
I told him that yes, tremendous advances had been made, and that a baby like his if born today would likely be a relatively easy case. I told him about the advances made with mechanical ventilation of babies in the late 1960's and 1970's, and of the advent of widespread use of artificial surfactant in the early 1990's.
Although he seemed pleased to hear about the advances, he had a somewhat wistful expression on his face, and I said to him,"You never forget about your baby, do you?" He seemed relieved to have the sentiment acknowledged and started talking more about his dead baby boy. He told me that his son just couldn't seem to catch his breath, and he was reminded of it when he saw his Altzheimer's impaired sister take her last breaths. After our conversation he thanked me and we went our separate ways.
Fifty years ago a small baby lived for one day, and every single day since then his father must have thought of him. There is, I think, no stronger attachment than that of a parent for his or her child.
This is truly a case of believing yourself to death. The sad thing is she leaves behind three young children.
The patient still steadfastly refused all surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. Against all evidence that the course she had chosen thus far had not resulted in the elimination of her tumor that she expected, she nonetheless insisted on continuing with various alternative medicine treatments. Against all evidence to the contrary, she continued to refuse any form of "conventional medicine." She still believed that her "healer" could save her life, even though she now had a large, bleeding, stinking mass in her breast stuck to her chest wall that had three years ago been a pea-sized cancer that could have easily been excised with a small surgical procedure. She was well on her way to dying in the horrific way that so many women died of this disease 100 years ago.
And a comment by a reader:
If you look at the claims for most alternative therapies, they are very heavy on spiritual and supernatural types of assumptions regarding potent powers, forces, and intentions -- either on a personal level or Nature as a benevolent guide.
Trying to argue a True Believer out of Alt Med is like trying to argue against the existence of God to just about anyone. The tricks and denials built into the apologetics will not only help them disregard just about anything you say, but they'll feel virtuous and wise while doing it. The oncologist is up against it, hard, in a culture which puts "being scientific" slightly lower than "having faith" on the personal merit scale.
More evidence that breastfeeding is good for baby but is it the cause or correlation? Smart Moms + Smart Genes + Nutrition is the likely answer.
A study published this week in the British Medical Journal suggests that the advantage of breastfeeding on baby's intelligence could be explained not by the effect of breastmilk on the infant's developing brain, but by the fact that women who breastfeed are more likely to have higher IQs.
This is perhaps because IQ is correlated with social and economic class, and people in these classes are generally more likely to follow health advice promoted in education campaigns.
Hence, these babies might just be more likely to inherit neurodevelopmental advantages from their mothers (IQ is known to be partially heritable), and are probably more likely to benefit from a range of other factors which better socioeconomic conditions bring.
I suspect that advantage seen in breastfed babies might be a combination of social and genetic factors, as well as the effects of breastmilk.
We know that good nutrition in the early years is crucial to good brain development and breastmilk is a tailor-made for the purpose.
However, the brain also develops through interaction with the environment, so this nutritional advantage has to be balanced against social and educational experience.
At lunch today, a pregnant lady manning a push-cart (and who is due in December), while watching Jack smile and laugh, commented how babies in Singapore never smile but always stare blankly.
I don't know about other babies. I never noticed them before I got pregnant and now that I have Jack, I still don't notice them because I'm concentrating on my own! :p
Since the day Jack was born, I've been greeting him every morning when he wakes up with a "Good Morning" and a huge smile, no matter how tired I am, and he reciprocates. He's always a happy baby, smiling and laughing at strangers (usually female) and especially at his family.
What inspired this? Aside from the fact that I'm delighted to see him in the morning, I got through the tough first month from week 2 when he'd reward me with a smile, albeit in his sleep, after nursing. Plus, I find starting the day happy makes the whole day (and everyone around) happy too.
And here's a sticky for myself on how to give Jack a happy childhood:
- Slow down. Time moves differently in childhood. When I realize I am moving too fast, trying to do too much, I stop and just stare at the clouds until I can see the slow pattern shift in them. It re-sets my pacing to something slower, more natural.
- Enlist help. Parenthood is a LOT about the grungy, hard work side of it - health care, teaching, discipline, feeding, clothing, cleaning up, and not all of it is fun-fun-fun. I came to the conclusion that what I would be least able to do on a daily basis was 'enchantment' - I wanted my children to be enchanted by the world, to see its magic, to have their eyes wide with wonder. That plus everything else is a tall order. So I asked my mom if she would take on the job - provide Enchantment. She was THRILLED. It gave her the basis and boundaries she needed to grandmother without stepping on my toes, and a focus for activities, gifts, trips, and even her house... Her yard is now full of secret and magical places. She takes her local grandkids to museums, to ride on Tall Ships, to meet a REAL Princess (from Sweden), and bakes cookies with them, and joins them on dressup parades around the block. The distant grandchild, she ships unexpected packages with books and treasures, and calls regularly to have magical talks on the phone. I also enlist the help of other relatives, and friends, and teachers. It doesn't have to only come from me.
- Show your pride, awe, and wonder. Kids are as astonishing to us as the world is to them. Let them see that in your eyes (I guess that's the 'eyes light up' thing Moxie mentioned)... I do this intentionally, in various forms, from showing up for birthday parties and assemblies at school, to the way I greet them after school, to how I reach out my arms for each of them in turn as I take them to the car. I also let them catch me watching them with my love and pride showing, as they go about their day.
- Astonish them now and then. Sometimes we go out for breakfast, or have cereal for dinner, or go to the park, just 'because'. It makes them laugh and jump up and down and squeal. Say Yes unexpectedly, give them 'drive by hugs' (especially when they're older), give them flowers, pick them up from school early and go somewhere fun. It works when we're courting a partner, and while we have to tune it to the children's developmental level (dinner in a fancy restaurant may NOT work out!), it still generates that 'you thought of what might make me happy, now I feel special' reaction.
- Simply do things WITH them. Don't just had them crayons, sit down and draw your own pictures, and ask them what they think of it. Make your own play-doh figures, climb on the playground stuff (at least the stuff you can't break!) with them, play tag with them.
- Being present. I could tell when my parents were tuned into me, or when they were around but not really paying attention.
- Knowing that my parents respected my BIG choices. When I really wanted to switch schools in 5th grade, or when I was sick and tired of Sunday school, my parents listened.
- and (I found this one online, and I think it's great) cultivate nice memories by regularly recalling fun times, by showing your kids photographs and other souvenirs of happy things you did together when they were younger. When doing this, you help them build happy memories. Sounds a bit manipulative at first, but I think there's a great principle behind it: learning to emphasize the good things that happened to you in the past will help you become a more joyful person in general.
After several nights of blissful 5-7.5 first sleeps, Jack regressed to 2 hourly sleeps last night following a difficult 3 hours of putting him to bed. Thankfully after the 4am wake-up, he slept till 9am despite possibly an hour of fussing before his Dad was able to retrieve him from his cot and place him in our bed. He then slept till almost 1130am.
He's been fussy during the afternoons and especially so yesterday, and was unusually solemn last night at dinner, maybe from the almost all-day all-night regurgitation. I've been refraining from any caffeine whatsoever so I am ponderous to what may have caused the bad sleep. Babies always cry for a reason.
Meanwhile Boy has been constipated, traumatised twice when a strand of my hair got ingested and strung a piece of hard poo he couldn't shake off. I had to remove the poo twice. I have been refilling fresh water into the many bowls around and feeding them all more canned food.
His appetite hasn't been great lately, finishing only half his meal, and the day before he stepped outside when the door was open, stopped and looked around. I was so alarmed I quickly grabbed him back into the house. Later his Dad claims that he (and Sam too) has done it before but I don't remember it ever happening before.
It's been frustrating because I've been avoiding being out of the bedroom too much to avoid the hair-poo thing (my hair's falling out in clumps - a casualty of post-pregnancy) which makes it kind of hard to observe him. He still weighs 7kg and I've seen him drinking.
The kids have stopped bugging him since we've banned all kids from the bedroom (to avoid the hair-poo situation). No more so-called preferential treatment and they all get along. The past two days saw the older three perched on the couch: Buffy on the right couch head, Boy on the left (totally unscathed), and Tux shamelessly splayed on the couch itself.
Meanwhile, I've spent the last few weekends catching up on my fave TV series: Firefly, Surface, and Prison Break. It's sad how the former two were cancelled after the first season. There doesn't seem much support for sci-fi genres. Both are extremely shiny and original. Prison Break is neat because of Wentworth Miller and the smart concept. I read the whole story in text, downloaded into my iPaq. Ah finally some use for it. ;D
Yay! Jack slept 6 hours straight last night and it was like a zombie cure serum for me! :) I can actually smile without it being forced. I can't say my photographic memory is back - that was one of the first casualties of pregnancy, but at least I remember my To-Dos without looking at my calendar. Jack's enjoying some tummy time now and saying Boo repeatedly and finally burping spontaneously! :D
I've finally gotten round to reading Michio Kaku's Parallel Worlds since two nights ago. It's been a really fascinating read, bringing back the wonderment of the old days. It's staggering how absolutely tiny we are in the scheme of things. Considering how the black hole in the centre of our galaxy is several million times of the mass of our Sun (which is pretty gargantuan already if you ask me) and is 1/10 the size of Mercury's orbit.
It was probably better therapy for me than watching Firefly, to be honest. Since childhood, I've had an intuitive distinction for what's reality and what's not. That explains why horror movies never frighten me. I can't say I'll ever have the opportunity to travel through a wormhole but that the possibility is more real to me than living the exciting life as a smuggler on Serenity. It's ironic, because I'll never get to do both in my lifetime.
Firefly is based on science fiction. Space travel is pretty darned dangerous: radiation, machine failure, the list goes on... It just seemed rather unrealistic (albeit very fun). Parallel Worlds is based on science, as counterintuitive as quantum mechanics is to the mind.
I'm probably contradicting myself as I go along (I haven't had my cuppa green tea), but I think the difference for me is that when I turn off the telly, I know the specific experience of living on Serenity is gone forever (till I watch it again). But when I put down the book, wormholes and parallel universes are still real and wondrous for me.
It gradually crept up on me... from 6 hours to 5 hours to 4 hours to 2-3 hours every sleep session at night. Yes, the dreaded 4-month Sleep Regression.
None of the fancy books written by MDs mentioned that. Nor did they mention stress incontinence, hair falling out, or any of the other nasty things that happen to all new moms. So save your money and buy MY book, um... when I do write it.
Anyhoo, 5 days of drastically broken sleep were about all I could handle. I was zombie by day and zombie by night. What concentration I had I channelled to work. What good humour I had were focused on baby. There was very little left that I had to call myself human. Then again, the definition of human is quite variable...
Over the weekend I zoned out watching Firefly and even got a little depressed after it was over, feeling a little abandoned by my new friends on their new yet-unscripted adventures. I've always wanted to explore space but don't reckon I'll be able to do so in my lifetime. I did inherit shiny and gorram so all is not lost.
Yesterday baby went for his 2nd innoculation. He squealed once when jabbed and then was okay when it was over. He is 7kg now and 63cm. Heavy for his age but a normal height for his age. His Dad was so proud.
Speaking of eating, we tried rice cereal on Monday since he keeps eyeing our food very enviously. He tried some but didn't show much interest. It didn't help him sleep as promised.
He has been a verbose baby since day one, crying GIIIIII when he was just 2 weeks old, saying Goo when he was about a month (or was it 2 months), and in the last week, starting on Boo, last Saturday saying Baba, and today saying Bebe (which I'd been calling him recently).
Oh yes, back on the sleep thing. It's apparently normal as baby is allegedly learning lots now and can't sleep because his brain is active at night. I can empathise.
Baby finally slept 6 hours straight last night but I was awake till time unknown with my old friend Insomnia on an unexpected visit. He did wake up and talked a little to himself, but fortunately fell asleep again after. I remember the important lesson about teaching your child how to fall asleep himself. I don't think he's forgotten.
I figured it was either: teething, sleep regression, or my diet. The one thing I did different last night was eat more meat. (I also fed him 3 times from 10pm - he slept for a bit after - 11pm, and midnight.) It is possible that the lack of protein in my diet in the last few days could have been responsible for his bad sleep. Now that I gobbled up more meat, he slept pretty much all the way through. My boobs had been pretty soft before too but they are starting to spray again today.
At the 5am feed I found myself nursing Jack and adoringly watching Boy groom himself most thoroughly from head to toe. I love this little boy in a cat suit so much. 14.5 years together. It's been a wonderful journey that I hope would never end. Hence my constant worry about his health. Blockages can be fatal. I've been keeping an eagle eye on his litter box habits but between work and baby, it's been hard catching him in action.
So I did what any mother in my position would do. I raised the ire of the other kids and let him sleep in the bedroom with us. Since before bedtime till the last feed I fretted when he didn't use the pan. Twice yesterday afternoon he sniffed at it but didn't use it. I realise I'd forgotten to empty it after bringing it in. So I did. But still no dice. But he was drinking well and eating a lot.
Finally at the 8am feed he followed me to the bathroom and used the pan. After what seemed like eternity, he got up and cleaned himself methodically, from his feet to his paws. I stared into the pan and the anxiety drained from me. It was a large puddle, the size of my hand. I looked at Boy lovingly as he finished grooming and meowed for food. I told him later. I had to feed his baby brother first.
He understood, making himself comfortable while I nursed the baby, who seemed more interested in engaging me in a conversation than feeding.... He watched Jack fascinatedly, possibly pondering how something so small that looks and smells like Mom came to exist. We shared many blinks - cat language for I love you. I've never felt more content, with these two children close to me.
Update: He peed another respectable puddle at 920am and again, a palm-sized puddle at 11am (the latter time after his breakfast and I discovered he'd scurried to pee in the PeeWee pan which I placed in the hallway with newspaper shreddings of course!)
"To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness." -- Bertrand Russell
"Non-violence leads to the highest ethics, which is the goal of all evolution. Until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages."
-- Thomas Edison (Harper's Magazine, 1890)
A woman's romance with motherhood, green living, finance, and this heady thing called life.
