So it seems that the ticket checks on the trams and buses in Zurich have ramped up in the last month or two. It now feels like every other time I ride them, there I am having to dig out my pass, potentially the dog's ticket, while balancing a baby and stroller. What gets me is how much it reminds me of those 80s cop shows where the pimps and drug dealers can totally tell a cop who is trying to go undercover.
I've noticed now that whenever a person gets on the tram who looks kind of shifty, dressed in not too fashionable clothing, and I start to revert to my CTA brain ("watch your wallet and bag..."), without fail they turn around, flash a badge and ask for my ticket. They stand out SO badly. I always think they are junkies or daytime drunks or something.
"Oh, my ticket? Phew, I thought you were going to try to lift my iPhone. You guys should stop looking around so nervously when you get on. You stand out. A lot. And I've only been here a year and can tell."
One of them ticketed a black lab standing next to us, who was riding with a man who had helped me and another mom with their strollers. That's cold.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Who knew I could hate a holiday more than Valentine's Day?
2:06am. Night feeding finished by team effort again. Baby A is on her belly (just you try and flip her over) and finallyasleep again.
Last mothers day I was pregnant. 2 months. It was exciting. I felt like someone who could celecrate motherhood.i looked forward to today when I'd be a real mom.
And here it is. I handed baby A over to M in tears yesterday when I had tried fir a second time to get her to nap unsuccessfully. I yelled "I hate that baby." happy mothers day.
I didn't think this was what motherhood was going to be like. I was going to be totally in love with this baby by now. We'd understand each other and I would know how to soothe, feed, and put this baby to sleep.
And instead I'm packing suit cases full of our clothes to go to a program I desperately hope teaches me to love her. Because I don't even know if I love her.
It doesn't feel like I thought it would. She isn't the love of my life. I smile and laugh and interact with her many times but at other times I'm exhausted and I just want to run away. I don't want to be responsible for making her scream yet again for nap time, or cry during another feeding. Gas? Pain? Some other reason? I can't tell when she is in pain vs hungry vs tired vs frustrated. All cries sound the same to me. (Hint: this is not where you give me advice on what baby cries sounds like. I've heard other babies in the hospital and could read them better after 10 min than I can baby A after 5 1/2 months.)
I don't feel like a mom. I feel like a caretaker. I feel like I put 100% of myself into thus everyday and by 3pm I'm in tears not sure what she wants. How can I not know? How can I not even care by that time many days? Where is that fierce love? How come I just feel numb, silent where I thought I would feel emotion. I am good to her because I believe that is how it should work, not because I can't help myself with love.
I don't even know that I feel she is really my daughter. I look into her face and I don't recognize her like I thought I would by now.
It breaks my heart.
I walk out on her screaming in her crib because I'm just out of everything. "Who cares, don't go to sleep stupid baby. Scream instead of settling. Fine. Leave me alone!"
She doesn't melt in my arms. Does she even differentiate between me and anyone else?
I often worry that we made a huge mistake having a child. I don't know what I was thinking. It isn't at all like I expected. I'm so tired, so sad, so empty. And heading off to a hospital with a psych ward for help learning to read my own baby.
I need other people to teach me about my own child. I don't feel like a mom. I feel like a huge phony celebrating mothers day.
My biggest wish was to know her. Who she is. And to accept that like I believe every person deserves. Not to change her or try to force her into some mold. And yet here I am and I can't even tell hunger from tired. And yelling that I hate her because I feel like a failure when 10 min into her screaming and writhing I still can never tell if I'm pushing a nap on her and stressing her out or if it is a necessary process for her to scream and fight before sleeping. And it makes me feel like a bad person to have pinned her arms down at her sides, to keep pushing back from her arching, to keep covering her eyes with a cloth. Because you get to a place where you realize you may be holding her too tight. And it just makes me want to cry, because there I am maybe just terrifying her when all I wanted to do is help her sleep so that the afternoon would go better. So she wouldn't get overtired, so the night might go well. I wanted to help and I can't tell if I am hurting instead.
I can't tell. And at some point I don't even care anymore and I need to put her down and walk out of the room.
happy mothers day.
Last mothers day I was pregnant. 2 months. It was exciting. I felt like someone who could celecrate motherhood.i looked forward to today when I'd be a real mom.
And here it is. I handed baby A over to M in tears yesterday when I had tried fir a second time to get her to nap unsuccessfully. I yelled "I hate that baby." happy mothers day.
I didn't think this was what motherhood was going to be like. I was going to be totally in love with this baby by now. We'd understand each other and I would know how to soothe, feed, and put this baby to sleep.
And instead I'm packing suit cases full of our clothes to go to a program I desperately hope teaches me to love her. Because I don't even know if I love her.
It doesn't feel like I thought it would. She isn't the love of my life. I smile and laugh and interact with her many times but at other times I'm exhausted and I just want to run away. I don't want to be responsible for making her scream yet again for nap time, or cry during another feeding. Gas? Pain? Some other reason? I can't tell when she is in pain vs hungry vs tired vs frustrated. All cries sound the same to me. (Hint: this is not where you give me advice on what baby cries sounds like. I've heard other babies in the hospital and could read them better after 10 min than I can baby A after 5 1/2 months.)
I don't feel like a mom. I feel like a caretaker. I feel like I put 100% of myself into thus everyday and by 3pm I'm in tears not sure what she wants. How can I not know? How can I not even care by that time many days? Where is that fierce love? How come I just feel numb, silent where I thought I would feel emotion. I am good to her because I believe that is how it should work, not because I can't help myself with love.
I don't even know that I feel she is really my daughter. I look into her face and I don't recognize her like I thought I would by now.
It breaks my heart.
I walk out on her screaming in her crib because I'm just out of everything. "Who cares, don't go to sleep stupid baby. Scream instead of settling. Fine. Leave me alone!"
She doesn't melt in my arms. Does she even differentiate between me and anyone else?
I often worry that we made a huge mistake having a child. I don't know what I was thinking. It isn't at all like I expected. I'm so tired, so sad, so empty. And heading off to a hospital with a psych ward for help learning to read my own baby.
I need other people to teach me about my own child. I don't feel like a mom. I feel like a huge phony celebrating mothers day.
My biggest wish was to know her. Who she is. And to accept that like I believe every person deserves. Not to change her or try to force her into some mold. And yet here I am and I can't even tell hunger from tired. And yelling that I hate her because I feel like a failure when 10 min into her screaming and writhing I still can never tell if I'm pushing a nap on her and stressing her out or if it is a necessary process for her to scream and fight before sleeping. And it makes me feel like a bad person to have pinned her arms down at her sides, to keep pushing back from her arching, to keep covering her eyes with a cloth. Because you get to a place where you realize you may be holding her too tight. And it just makes me want to cry, because there I am maybe just terrifying her when all I wanted to do is help her sleep so that the afternoon would go better. So she wouldn't get overtired, so the night might go well. I wanted to help and I can't tell if I am hurting instead.
I can't tell. And at some point I don't even care anymore and I need to put her down and walk out of the room.
happy mothers day.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Rhubarb and country hospitals
So the first rhubarb of the season showed up on the on-line grocery service we use, and it finally made it into my first compote of the season. Rhubarb, prunes, blueberries, strawberries and honey. I'm never using sugar again after last year's great turnout with the honey. Yum. Bring on the amazing fruit, and maybe some more sun and warmth while we're at it.
Ah, right, you are probably tuning in for the second part of the story. Well, after my very unsatisfactory call with the sleep expert, turns out she felt exactly the same way, and left a message on the house phone about another option for us. Well, I don't really check the messages on the house phone, ever. I should change our message on there to make that clear, huh?
Turns out there is a program run out of a hospital with a counseling/psych department, which deals specifically with moms and tough to read babies. You stay in house for weeks. They video tape you and the baby (and dads, too). They analyze the tapes to look for subtle cues that can help you understand the baby better. They look at sleep patterns, and at how you interact with the baby. They have a daycare which gives moms time to sleep, to talk to doctors and counselors, to recuperate. And, I hope, to learn to bond better.
So, yes, the Swiss never cease to amaze me. I'm all ready to throw in the red towel with the white cross on it, and Bam! Jingle, they bring out an amazing program like this. We go there soon. I can't wait.
And at the same time, I can. Just knowing there is hope, even the tiniest bit, does wonders in a hopeless situation. Just the smallest splinter afloat, that can take even a little of the weight off your shoulders, makes it all bearable. For the next days. I can hang in there, I can even stop worrying so much about what each individual night will be like, because once again, help is on the way. I can put down my incessant wondering what causes the sleepless nights, because someone else has said they will step up and take over for a while.
It is good. Really good.
And in the meantime, there are also rules in place at home to help us out. The schedule can bite me, for all I care, the baby comes first. More importantly, my interactions with her come first. Those have to be as good as possible. Also, M is my backup for night waking/feedings. He takes her when I've woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle and am not in a calm place. And having that partner there is really nice. Who am I kidding - it is vital.
We've even made another leap in getting things done in the apartment and now have 5 out of 6 ceiling lights installed. By Friday, it may be 6 out of 6. The guest couch comes next, and who knows what wonderful things will follow. People may come over. They may stop asking if we've just moved in. The dog might stop obsessing about cats. Ok, maybe not that.
It is a good day today.
Ah, right, you are probably tuning in for the second part of the story. Well, after my very unsatisfactory call with the sleep expert, turns out she felt exactly the same way, and left a message on the house phone about another option for us. Well, I don't really check the messages on the house phone, ever. I should change our message on there to make that clear, huh?
Turns out there is a program run out of a hospital with a counseling/psych department, which deals specifically with moms and tough to read babies. You stay in house for weeks. They video tape you and the baby (and dads, too). They analyze the tapes to look for subtle cues that can help you understand the baby better. They look at sleep patterns, and at how you interact with the baby. They have a daycare which gives moms time to sleep, to talk to doctors and counselors, to recuperate. And, I hope, to learn to bond better.
So, yes, the Swiss never cease to amaze me. I'm all ready to throw in the red towel with the white cross on it, and Bam! Jingle, they bring out an amazing program like this. We go there soon. I can't wait.
And at the same time, I can. Just knowing there is hope, even the tiniest bit, does wonders in a hopeless situation. Just the smallest splinter afloat, that can take even a little of the weight off your shoulders, makes it all bearable. For the next days. I can hang in there, I can even stop worrying so much about what each individual night will be like, because once again, help is on the way. I can put down my incessant wondering what causes the sleepless nights, because someone else has said they will step up and take over for a while.
It is good. Really good.
And in the meantime, there are also rules in place at home to help us out. The schedule can bite me, for all I care, the baby comes first. More importantly, my interactions with her come first. Those have to be as good as possible. Also, M is my backup for night waking/feedings. He takes her when I've woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle and am not in a calm place. And having that partner there is really nice. Who am I kidding - it is vital.
We've even made another leap in getting things done in the apartment and now have 5 out of 6 ceiling lights installed. By Friday, it may be 6 out of 6. The guest couch comes next, and who knows what wonderful things will follow. People may come over. They may stop asking if we've just moved in. The dog might stop obsessing about cats. Ok, maybe not that.
It is a good day today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
