Re-learning the lesson

When I was buying my first house, the closing date kept moving. It was a really cute little place, from 1940-something, with one of the best views of the mountains in the poor (read: non-foothills) part of town because the backyard faced a stop sign and had a vacant lot next to it.

Anyway, everytime I'd get an estimate of when I would get the keys, I'd get really excited. The first estimate was just before Halloween, and I started planning the coolest party you could have in a totally empty house. It would be the only time I could fit that many people in there, while there was no furniture yet. It would be amazing.

Nope. Sorry. Termite damage in the walls, the previous owners had to deal with.

I was heartbroken. I'd gotten so excited about having that key, finally, after all the time spent negotiating (without real estate agents), and dreaming about being a homeowner.

It happened again. Another date, another problem - this time they circus-tented the whole thing to treat for termites. It was as if the previous owners could care less about keeping to the deadlines they would set. I was furious.

It happened a third time. Each time, I would get so worked up, celebrating something ahead of time and so upset when it fell through. I remember having to call one of my swing dance friends to go dancing with me just to work off the fury. Each time. I danced a lot that fall.

Anyway, after that third time I realized that there weren't enough dances to get me through this up and down emotional cycle and promised myself to only celebrate having the keys to the house once I actually had the keys to the house. Not one moment before that.

And I calmed down, stopped planning, stopped window shopping at second hand stores and Target for furniture and decor. Eventually, that next time, I actually got the keys, the house was mine and all went well.

But I've kept that promise this whole 10 years since then when there are big life events coming in the future. Or I've tried my best. Believe me, it was hard to do with the wedding planning. To not celebrate too much until we were standing up there in front of family and friends actually getting married.

I got to practice again with my dissertation defense date.

And with trying to get pregnant.

With moving to Switzerland.

And then with carrying the baby to term. Since it had been so hard to conceive, I knew things could go wrong with the pregnancy. So I concentrated on enjoying being pregnant, without letting myself ever spend too much time thinking about what A would be like when she was born or grew up. I thought of myself as pregnant (and not as a mom) until the moment they put A into my arms.

I think it is a good strategy for me. I just get too excited and emotionally invested in the outcomes otherwise. And too angry or full of despair if my expectations aren't met. M calls
me a pessimist for this reason and himself an optimist. But in the end, I think I'm less disappointed with however things turn out when I don't fantasize my preferred ending.

I just had to learn the lesson again, though, this morning. A seems to be on some sort of "yes/no I will/won't breastfeed" cycle that lasts about 12-24 hours. When it is "yes", she's happy as a clam feeding quietly, sleeps better, etc. When its "no", she starts to scream with distress when I try to put her to feed. She'll take the pacifier, a bottle of breastmilk, a bottle of formula....anything but the source. And she's hungry. And it breaks me down. Because it means I'll need to pump which will take up another few hours in the day, and we're already down to scheduling going to pee at this point.

So this morning I was waiting for her to wake up for the 8:30am feeding, and I got to thinking about all these cool projects I'd like to do in the future, and trying to look up a website with some science+culture videos (Max & Jason: Still Up....let me know if they're any good...I never quite made it through the first 30 seconds of the Dubai one) that reminded me of a video project I had.

And I started that already-doomed line of thinking: Who could I work with on something like that here? What about that woman from the mom's group who has worked on films? Should I try to write a longer version of my SPARK article for Physics Today? How about contacting that one sociologist from the AIP to talk to her about the Impostor Syndrome project?

And A woke up. And BAM! Oh no you're NOT going to breastfeed me!

Ok. Ok. I get it. Not today. Not this week. And probably not for at least a few months if not half a year. I get it. Sorry. I cried. I was angry.

But here is the heartening part of the lesson for me. If I really get that excited about science and nature and the wonders of the universe (like some of these projects I was thinking about dealt with), how can I not see the prime example of all of that mystery and wonder and awe right here in front of me, learning to put her hand in her mouth? She just started doing that, like the books said she would. How do babies know to start doing that? How can that behavior be wired in there somewhere? It is mindblowing. And the smiling, she just started really looking at us for a long time and smiling. More than at her favorite black&white pillowcase. Now that is a reward.

And the cooing.

It is amazing. So what am I getting my 2-day old panties in a bunch about with the "projects I want to do about how science and everyday life are inextricable" supposed tragedy, when I have this open question rocking in a hammock in front of me. I'd be an idiot not to just slow down and observe for the next 4 months, since I can. And enjoy, learn, and get some more great material, like:

With all that she's learning everyday, why isn't this baby's head the main friggin' heat source in the apartment right now?

Better than Biosphere 2...

but just barely. My world for the last 2.5 months has been a 100m square apartment. With big windows and a huge couch. I inhabit the couch ecosystem most of the time. At least we don't need to grow our own food. And no roaches have infiltrated.

And I leave every few....weeks. No, maybe every 5-6 days. That is us walking the dog for the first time since A was born. Small victory that she stayed calm in the carrier for the 15 minute walk.

A still needs to be held and bounced or rocked. A lot. She still gets the grunting crying fits about 1.5 hours after each meal. And let's not even talk about a baby that can put itself to sleep. Yeah, not in this ecosphere.

There is this mythical 3 month mark when colic "ends." Colic is supposed to peak at 6 weeks. We are almost at 10 weeks, and I am no longer getting my hopes up about any of these average dates.

And I have some sort of sinus cold - my whole head and neck were throbbing and feverish for the last 36 hours. I have to say, being sick is horrible, but being sick while still responsible for a helpless, colicky baby is much worse. It isn't that I want someone to take care of me instead, I just don't want to be in charge of A while I feel this bad. No more crawling under the covers and hiding for 10 hours at a time. Now, taking care of myself will conflict with taking care of her. I'm sure there are some huge opportunities for growth as an adult there.

I'm also a bit disappointed by the Swiss pharmaceuticals available. Seriously, people, shouldn't you be able to pipe in pain killers right next to the hot water line in each bathroom? American drugs are still superior for wiping out all symptoms...and most sensation, for that matter.

Ok, off to sanitize my hands. Again.

Colic is like infertility, or depression, or a difficult physics problem

...no one posts about it on Facebook.

You see people post beautiful baby photos. I've done it. I have photos of A crying but I've never put one of those up. And yet, that is what she looks like half of the time. If you had to pick her out of a line-up of crying babies, none of the photos I've sent people would help.

Similarly, I thought I was the only one with depression, until I started talking about it to a friend here or there. I felt pretty ashamed that I seemed to be the only one. But as soon as I told people what I was going through, the stories started pouring in. About all sorts of depression - clinical, medicated, post partum, hereditary, etc. Why had no one shared these stories with me earlier? The people who told me these things included some very close friends.

Again, when we were having a hard time getting pregnant. Those 3 years, each month a disappointment, wondering what was wrong. Getting the wrong advice from the wrong medical professionals. Having to figure out how soon to go see a specialist and how to decide about whether or not to mess with nature. And as soon as I started telling people what we were going through (M has always been very supportive of me doing this, which helps), the stories started coming in. One couple had used IUI, people we knew fairly well and had interacted with during their pregnancy. Another couple had tried for a few years and were about to go to a specialist when they got pregnant. Again, why had no one mentioned this before?

Which is why I decided at some point to put this kind of information about myself out there. So that other people who might have similar problems know they are not alone and that there is someone to talk to. And a few times someone, who is thinking about going to counselling, or who is having trouble getting pregnant, has come to talk with me. Just as a starting point, or to hear what I chose to do, or to vent their frustration. I don't solve anyone's problems, but I know how important it is to me to not feel alone.

So, here I am writing the opposite opinion from the last post. That although everyone has their ups and downs, and I should stop assuming my life is worse, even without them telling me about their life, I find it helps to know what other people go through. Not just the good stuff. Because I may need to ask for their help or advice if I'm going through the same thing. And this is why I'll probably go back to the moms group at some point, because there should be a few moms there who have colicky babies and can understand the stress involved. Just like there should be a few moms with all sorts of different experiences there.

I do post about some of these problems on facebook. Sure, it is personal, and some people will say it isn't appropriate, or it sounds like complaining. But here is the last comparison - all of these situations remind me of another one: the fear of not being smart enough in academia. I know this worry exists in other places, but I've only studied it in academic science, so that is where I can write from.

The way that people tend to post mostly about the good things in life (or at least about the more trivial problems which they are already laughing off), reminds me a lot of the way that students used to only talk about the physics problems they could solve on the homework. One on one, with a close friend, we might have admitted that there was some math process we couldn't understand, but rarely did you see anyone just admit this to a group of students. And yet, everyone was going through it at one time or another. And the professors sure as hell didn't volunteer this kind of information. Lecturers routinely used phrases like "obviously" and "with a little bit of math" and "so it is clear that." So the resulting sense was that everyone but "me" must understand this. And this tendency tends to stifle academic conversations and learning. It leads to some students leaving graduate school. It means there are a lot of intelligent people walking around departments and conferences feeling stupid. Or at least worrying they don't know as much as the person sitting next to them.

So I'm going to go dig up a crying baby photo for Facebook now. Because it is good for some other, future, harried mother or father in my friend list to know they are not alone.

The breast milk fridge

This post is a little late. In the sense that it has been over 6 weeks since I stood in front of that refrigerator in the hospital, in the middle of the night, putting my measly little 25mL of milk in for storage. All around "Mrs. Baleisis - 26/11/2009 1am" were bottles of 100, 150 and even 200mL. Mrs. Smith, Frau So-and-So and Senora Gonzales were all putting dairy cows to shame and I had just been told, after yet another consult, that "maybe breastfeeding just wasn't for me." I was heartbroken, especially since I'd started doing "you owe me one" math with the universe. We'd gone through 3 years of infertility, the end of my pregnancy was rough, I'd wound up with a C-section after trying so hard for a natural birth. And then A went right to breastfeeding like a champ when they brought her to me for the first time, 15 minutes after the surgery was over.

But 4 hours later, in my room in the hospital, feeding was excruciating. What had happened? Had the first time been ok because of the anesthetic? Why did it feel like shooting nerve pain when she fed? I had to grit my teeth just to bear it, and it hurt the whole way through. The lactaction consultants put me on pumping for a few days, and the nurses put A on formula for part of her food, 2 days after birth. And now, I wasn't producing much milk anymore.

And I stood there, crying in front of a fridge full of bottles that weren't mine.

I finally cried in front of the night nurse, too, telling her how I felt about that fridge and she told me something that is still a lesson I'm learning, apparently. Those bottles were from women who had too much milk and were in a lot of pain...all the time. Not just during feedings. They had to pump to relieve pressure and stave off infection. Pretty much turned around how I felt about the fridge.

It was a reminder of how often I forget that other people's experiences contain joy and suffering in equal proportions to mine. I assume that everyone else is living the perfect life I can't seem to manage somehow.

(...wow...this program has been interrupted by a loud baby pooping sound...we'll be right back after a short break so stay tuned....)

I managed to forget this lesson a week ago when I went out to the English speaking pregnant/new moms group in town. I was there without A because she seems to have her worst meltdowns after trips out of the house where we can't soothe her. So if she has to stay screaming in her stroller for 10 or 15 min while we're out, we're going to have hours of screaming later that evening. And there were the moms of the quiet babies. Thinking back now, that is who was there because the other moms with not-so-quiet new bundles of joy were probably all at home bouncing, shushing, swaddling and trying to feed them. Selection effect. But at the time, there were all the stories of sleeping through the night, calm, passive 3 and 5 month olds just looking around the coffee shop, of babies who were easy to fly with, etc. Fly with!? This kid can't even be in a stroller for a 1 hour trip to our village without having problems. Not likely anytime soon.

And I came home with that "breast milk fridge" feeling. I'm sorry, my baby has been really rough, and I just need to hear some horror stories from other people to know that I didn't manage to somehow produce a damaged child by some payback from natural selection. "You really weren't supposed to have a kid, and I kept trying to stop you, so now here you go."

But in response to a note on facebook I got a rash of emails from friends and acquaintances from all the corners of my past and future, with stories of troubles like ours and A's. And sometimes they included stories of more crying, or vomitting which A doesn't do, or other difficulties.

So I'm back there now. I get it again. Everyone has some wins and some losses. And just like no one should think that I'm more lucky because I'm down to my pre-pregnancy weight (you try keeping on pounds when you've eliminated all dairy, gluten and soy from your diet), my baby doesn't spit up (but she makes horrible pain faces and gassy pushing sounds for an hour at a time), and she loves her changing table (at least there is ONE place she is calm for a bit), I don't get to assume those other moms have it better. They just have it different. And if I don't click with them on a personal level, I don't need to go to the meetup. I can see people one on one with whom I can trade stories.

Anyway, who says people learn the first time they see or hear something?