Life is good in Jordania. I'm surviving working as a glorified office slave or "individual contributor" as I'm sometimes referred to. My little one is surviving daycare with hopefully not a whole lot of emotional scarring, and we are surviving the economic crisis. What more can one ask?
I'm finding happiness in things like having the dishes done, having babyfood made, having my husband home, having a warm house, and seeing a hat and mittens on my baby when we are out in the cold weather. The basics are not only necessary, but beautiful.
Things I need to work on include finding a way to get cheap children's books into Jordan while paying a minimum in customs, eating more than one meal a day, reading, painting (har har har--I can dream, right?), and sleeping a little later than 6:30am, though I can't complain.
Salam still wakes up 2 or 3 times a night, but 90% of the time, it's for food. He's growing so fast. He's as big or bigger than some one-year-olds at the daycare with him. Maybe it's because baby girls are smaller than baby boys...not that I have experience in that. He eats sweet potatoes, zucchini, carrots, apples, pears, and now green beans, all pureed of course.
He has this little walker that he adores. It's made him mobile without having to learn how to crawl. I don't know if that's good or not. He still won't flip himself over (voluntarily), but rather prefers that we help him walk by holding him under his armpits. He was practicing sitting up for a couple weeks (still almost face-plants more often than not), and now he's kind of ditched that for assisted standing/walking. Little impatient soul. Sounds like he's going to skip crawling all together.
When he gets sleepy, he starts 'singing.' This involves a kind of baby moaning, and it's in imitation of Daddy, who always sings him to sleep. He's learned to associate this with sleep to the point where whenever he gets tired, he starts to sing all on his own. Hilarious.
He LOVES eating. Loves loves loves it. Unless I stuff him full of solids, he stays cranky. Milk does not cut it at all. I feed him milk, even thickened with rice cereal, and it doesn't satisfy him. He drinks too much trying to get full, and then barfs (a lot). The vomiting is almost entirely eliminated when I fill him up with solids a couple of times a day. I'm thinking about introducing him to yogurt in a week or two, and then oat or wheat cereal after that. He's pretty much moved up the mental timetable I had set up for him by months. Who are these babies that survive on only breastmilk for the first 6 months? Salam would riot. Like, create the kind of scandal that would send our neighbors to our door to check on us. I'm just following his cues. He wants it, so I'm giving it. It's food, after all. I can't deprive him. (See the mental mommy-guilt game? Always nice trying to make oneself feel better).
What else...
In trying to remedy our financial crisis (not really an exaggeration) I'm continuously looking for another job. Something in my field...something that pays. What I'm making now is good, for Jordan. The problem is that my debt is American debt. The unforgivable monetary enslavement known as 'student loans'. It pretty much eats my Jordanian wages. I'm left working almost exclusively to pay off debt. My baby is in daycare so I can pay off debt. It's so frustrating. Note to all students out there taking out loan after loan after loan...if you don't like the idea of daycare, find another way to finance your education. I'm serious. Apply to work at a university that gives tuition remission, then find a degree that you can live with. I know that sounds a little cynical, but it's better than getting some pie-in-the-sky degree and then having mountains of debt you have to shovel yourself out of working in a field you can't stand because where you ended up doesn't employ people like you!
Ok, rant over. In short, I'm thankful that we have good food, a warm home and each other. Many people don't have that, so every day I'm grateful.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Circumbivalence
Noun. The feeling you get after you have your dear, precious child circumcised, and totally wonder WTF??? WHY do people do this to their KIDS????!!!! This feeling is exacerbated in situations where the doctors, though competent, refuse to use a local anesthetic. AHHHHH!!!!
I know that doctors these days are recommending it as studies have shown it reduces the likelihood of transmitting diseases...but I still feel ambivalent.
The story: We went to a clinic on the Eastern side of Amman, which looked sketchy to me. But I suppose when it comes to the little guy, I'd have a hard time letting the Pope hold him. And not just because the Pope is a little scary anyway. My husband says to the guy that we are here to do the dirty deed (not literally, but that's how I think of it) and the doctor just went and did it on the spot! No appointment, minimal preparations...I managed to procrastinate for 3 and a half months on this little duty, and the whole drive to the clinic I was clutching my son and hating myself. We finally did it the day before yesterday because as he got older, it was only going to be worse for him. Better now when he won't remember.
So, the whole procedure literally took 3 minutes. No joke. They used this metal thing to hold the skin, and then used this electronic burning tool to basically cauterize the wound. God. He criieeeed, and so did I!!!! I felt terrible and basically sobbed through the whole thing. I think I scared the shit out of some poor kid who was also in the waiting room about to see the doctor. I thought I was going to pass out.
Fortunately, Mr. Salam dealt with the wound in the most amazing way. He was fussing on the way home, but after we gave him some baby painkiller and I nursed him to sleep, all was well. He woke up normally during the night for feedings, and the next morning he was all smiles, spit bubbles and sunshine. AMAZING. It's healing pretty well (knock on wood) and hopefully pretty soon it will be a distant memory. Very distant.
If the next kiddo ends up being a boy, we really really need to get it done a lot sooner, and I swear to God, I'm not going to be in the room next time when they do it. And I'm going to insist on anesthetic--for both of us. Sweet Jesus! He's a human being!
One strange thing I found out, and thank God it wasn't done to my son, was that sometimes as part of the circumcision process here, they also clip part of the skin under the tongue. GAH!!! WHY???!!! There is some strange shit that happens to people in this world, and I guess Jordan is no exception.
Anyways, all is well and it's over. Thank God.
I know that doctors these days are recommending it as studies have shown it reduces the likelihood of transmitting diseases...but I still feel ambivalent.
The story: We went to a clinic on the Eastern side of Amman, which looked sketchy to me. But I suppose when it comes to the little guy, I'd have a hard time letting the Pope hold him. And not just because the Pope is a little scary anyway. My husband says to the guy that we are here to do the dirty deed (not literally, but that's how I think of it) and the doctor just went and did it on the spot! No appointment, minimal preparations...I managed to procrastinate for 3 and a half months on this little duty, and the whole drive to the clinic I was clutching my son and hating myself. We finally did it the day before yesterday because as he got older, it was only going to be worse for him. Better now when he won't remember.
So, the whole procedure literally took 3 minutes. No joke. They used this metal thing to hold the skin, and then used this electronic burning tool to basically cauterize the wound. God. He criieeeed, and so did I!!!! I felt terrible and basically sobbed through the whole thing. I think I scared the shit out of some poor kid who was also in the waiting room about to see the doctor. I thought I was going to pass out.
Fortunately, Mr. Salam dealt with the wound in the most amazing way. He was fussing on the way home, but after we gave him some baby painkiller and I nursed him to sleep, all was well. He woke up normally during the night for feedings, and the next morning he was all smiles, spit bubbles and sunshine. AMAZING. It's healing pretty well (knock on wood) and hopefully pretty soon it will be a distant memory. Very distant.
If the next kiddo ends up being a boy, we really really need to get it done a lot sooner, and I swear to God, I'm not going to be in the room next time when they do it. And I'm going to insist on anesthetic--for both of us. Sweet Jesus! He's a human being!
One strange thing I found out, and thank God it wasn't done to my son, was that sometimes as part of the circumcision process here, they also clip part of the skin under the tongue. GAH!!! WHY???!!! There is some strange shit that happens to people in this world, and I guess Jordan is no exception.
Anyways, all is well and it's over. Thank God.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Happy Belated Three Months, Salam!
I am happy to say that we are all doing pretty well. Mr. Salam is growing and changing every day with a little less fussing and a little more smiling. He still wakes up several times a night, but it sounds like I got used to it because it's not phasing me as much as it used to.
He hates getting dressed, loves being naked and really enjoys his bath. When I undress him to change his diaper, it's all smiles. The second I start to put his hand in a sleeve, he makes a scandal. Daddy recently discovered that the little guy is ticklish as well. Some of his favorite games involve Daddy tossing him in the air a little bit (don't know how to describe it exactly, but don't worry it's safe). He also loves his walker. It has these little buttons on it that make noises along with a steering wheel and a button that he bends over and tries to put his mouth on.
He's also starting to form his own language. When he's angry, he says things like 'mbith,' 'meem,' and 'ning.' When he's happy, it's all cooing.
He's growing like a weed these days. He's wearing these onesies meant for kids 6 months to a year old. I think he's already outgrown his third set of clothes so far. We even buy bigger sizes than he generally needs, but he outgrows them within a couple of weeks. We don't even have time to wear out the clothes. It's kind of crazy.
We also think he might be starting to teeth. He's doing this thing where he really wants to bite his hands the whole time and sometimes us, is drooling, and is somewhat fussier than usual.
He's also a very social little guy. Really enjoys being around people, seeing them, vomiting on them and generally wrecking havoc. When it's just me and him in the house, he becomes bored and rather unhappy. Our living room doesn't have a direct window, so the light is mostly artificial, and it's quiet. Not really what the little guy wants. So, generally speaking, having him at the daycare place while I'm at work is much more entertaining for him. They are always telling me how good he was for them (!!!), and seem to love him a great deal.
Anyways, aside from the occasional projectile pooping incident, all is well. A note to all future mothers--wait until they are done pooping before you take off the diaper and walk towards the sink. Amazing things happen otherwise.
My husband and I keep talking about when to try to bring the next one along, but it's still too early. My body is still kind of tired, and I want to wait until Mr. Salam is a bit bigger and can manage a little better before I potentially subject myself to morning sickness, cravings, nausea, etc. But, we CAN'T WAIT to try again!!! :)
He hates getting dressed, loves being naked and really enjoys his bath. When I undress him to change his diaper, it's all smiles. The second I start to put his hand in a sleeve, he makes a scandal. Daddy recently discovered that the little guy is ticklish as well. Some of his favorite games involve Daddy tossing him in the air a little bit (don't know how to describe it exactly, but don't worry it's safe). He also loves his walker. It has these little buttons on it that make noises along with a steering wheel and a button that he bends over and tries to put his mouth on.
He's also starting to form his own language. When he's angry, he says things like 'mbith,' 'meem,' and 'ning.' When he's happy, it's all cooing.
He's growing like a weed these days. He's wearing these onesies meant for kids 6 months to a year old. I think he's already outgrown his third set of clothes so far. We even buy bigger sizes than he generally needs, but he outgrows them within a couple of weeks. We don't even have time to wear out the clothes. It's kind of crazy.
We also think he might be starting to teeth. He's doing this thing where he really wants to bite his hands the whole time and sometimes us, is drooling, and is somewhat fussier than usual.
He's also a very social little guy. Really enjoys being around people, seeing them, vomiting on them and generally wrecking havoc. When it's just me and him in the house, he becomes bored and rather unhappy. Our living room doesn't have a direct window, so the light is mostly artificial, and it's quiet. Not really what the little guy wants. So, generally speaking, having him at the daycare place while I'm at work is much more entertaining for him. They are always telling me how good he was for them (!!!), and seem to love him a great deal.
Anyways, aside from the occasional projectile pooping incident, all is well. A note to all future mothers--wait until they are done pooping before you take off the diaper and walk towards the sink. Amazing things happen otherwise.
My husband and I keep talking about when to try to bring the next one along, but it's still too early. My body is still kind of tired, and I want to wait until Mr. Salam is a bit bigger and can manage a little better before I potentially subject myself to morning sickness, cravings, nausea, etc. But, we CAN'T WAIT to try again!!! :)
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Courage
I saw this poem posted on a blog called Hijabi Couture and loooved it. Expecially the first two stanzas. As a kid, I remember being tormented by my peers and it was like drinking acid and concealing it. For the second stanza, I have faced bombs though not in battle. This is not unusual these days where most of the casualties from war are civilian.
'Courage'
by Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
'Courage'
by Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Cultural Methods of Motherhood
I've been meaning to write about this for a while, but I was pretty surprised at the strict instructions I kept receiving from all walks of womenfolk on what to do, eat, not eat, and what to feed my kiddo after birth. Here is a sample:
1. Women should not leave the house for 40 days after giving birth. People believe that you will get sick if you do so.
2. Babies should have their bellies wrapped at all times. Not only is keeping this particular area warm an absolute necessity, it's supposed to be "good for their back."
3. When babies cry, it's "good for their lungs."
4. After being fed, babies should be put down directly so they can "burTa." This is the random flailings that babies do when they are awake and not crying.
5. After delivering, women should: drink cinnamon tea (makes you bleed more so it stops faster); eat 'freekhia' (a kind of soup); eat dates and lots of helawah (believed to increase breastmilk); eat/drink lots of dairy.
I'll add more when I can remember...
1. Women should not leave the house for 40 days after giving birth. People believe that you will get sick if you do so.
2. Babies should have their bellies wrapped at all times. Not only is keeping this particular area warm an absolute necessity, it's supposed to be "good for their back."
3. When babies cry, it's "good for their lungs."
4. After being fed, babies should be put down directly so they can "burTa." This is the random flailings that babies do when they are awake and not crying.
5. After delivering, women should: drink cinnamon tea (makes you bleed more so it stops faster); eat 'freekhia' (a kind of soup); eat dates and lots of helawah (believed to increase breastmilk); eat/drink lots of dairy.
I'll add more when I can remember...
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Happy Belated One Month, Mr. Salam!!
Sorry that I left that hanging for so long, but I think that anyone who has ever lived with a newborn can attest that you literally lack both the energy and time for anything remotely extraneous.
Ah, finally manged to put down the little guy so I can type with both hands again!!!
In sum, he was born healthy and beautiful on June 13, 2009 at 10:15pm.
He went all the way to week 41, and the doctors demanded that we induce. He hadn't put on any additional weight from the previous week, and the doctors didn't like the look of his CEG. Induction is tough because they give you this suppository that causes the contractions to come on really hard and strong. Keep in mind that in most hospitals in Jordan, they don't do the epidural. Dilating from 2cm to 10cm was more painful than the actual delivery process. It wasn't until very late into it all that I discovered that pushing into the contraction relieves the pain. No Lamaze classes here. I've also discovered that one type of medical intervention usually necessitates a second and third. It turned out that they needed to use a vacuum to suck the little guy out because it was just taking too long. I did need stitches in my lady parts, but it also turns out that when you are pushing a baby out, feeling your hip bones splay drowns out other kinds of pain events. Also, the second that little guy came out, I got this amazing rush of endorphines--I didn't remotely care or even feel the placenta go, or the subsequent stitches. I even remember joking with the doctors in my delirium. He is a beautiful little guy, and I feel pretty overwhelmed at being a mom.
I had a bit of a problem with low milk production at the beginning, resulting in jaundice for the little guy, so he spent a couple days in the hospital getting addicted to formula and sitting under the light they use to treat high billirubin levels. We have since spent a lot of time trying to get my milk production up while reducing the amount of formula he takes, but it's tough. I've taken to drinking a lot of fenugreek tea to increase it, because I can't deal with him crying from hunger (which causes me to cave in, giving him formula, which gives him gas and causes him to fuss for several hours which my husband and I spend on our feet walking him around until he feels better and falls asleep). When he drinks only breastmilk, he is so much happier. Hopefully, my production will speed up soon.
We had a tough 10 days or so when my husband's ex-wife decided it would be great fun to send 3 of the 4 stepkids out to spend time with us while I was still bleeding from the delivery. Needless to say, it wasn't my finest hour. I'm still not up to speed on the cooking and housework. How do mom's juggle all this stuff and a fussy baby to boot?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
39 Weeks 4 Days Pregnant...
...and the waiting seems interminable. I've had my bags packed for at least a month, because initially it seemed like Mr. Salam wanted to come early. The crib is ready, we have diapers, shampoo and clothes (can anyone tell me what people use baby oil for?). Now with only 3 days left until his due date, he seems determined to be late (June 7th is the due date). I'm basically ok with waiting all of week 41 just to allow for any due date miscalculations, but after that I hope my Ob-gyn takes pity on me and suggests induction. He's already 7.7 lbs, so I'm hoping by the time he's ready to come that he'll still fit through the downshoot.
The only important thing to me at this point is that he'll be healthy. I'm hoping and praying for no surprises or unexpected complications. Unfortunately, doing things like googling any random question that comes into mind doesn't bring any peace, but of course, more anxiety. I'm trying to "just relax," but that's so much easier said than done.
Hopefully, I'll be posting some happy news soon.
The only important thing to me at this point is that he'll be healthy. I'm hoping and praying for no surprises or unexpected complications. Unfortunately, doing things like googling any random question that comes into mind doesn't bring any peace, but of course, more anxiety. I'm trying to "just relax," but that's so much easier said than done.
Hopefully, I'll be posting some happy news soon.
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