The Diaperbag family.

We are the Diaperbag family. There are Jordan, Evan and Dylan (also known as Muffin) and they are fondly known as JED. We are their parents. Ondine and Packrat.

This is JED

Always playing or planning and plotting to take over the world. Always up to shenanigans.

This is Jordan, our first born

Actually she's part of a twin set. She was known as Twin 1 in-utero. She loves to draw what she dreams, dances what she draws.

This is Evan, reluctantly the younger twin

He's Twin 2 by two minutes because it took the doctor that long to find him. We don't think he'll ever forgive the doctor!

This is our youngest, Dylan (also known as Muffin)

He fancies himself the Lion King. His favourite activities are to climb, jump, pounce and roar at the world. The world is his Pride Rock.

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Up to speed

As a runner and a dancer, I lived on adrenaline. That was the only way you could coerce your body into doing more than it was physically capable of. That was the only way you didn't feel your toenails splitting and bleeding in the shoes as you balanced all 50 kg of body weight onto the aforementioned toe yet again or the muscles that tear from the strain of thundering down the track at speeds that no normal human body is technically supposed to do.

So imagine my surprise when I'm told by my doctor that adrenaline's not a good thing for me now.

Some background information is needed here.

About 2 weeks back, I started getting what felt like painful period cramps, except, I hardly ever had period cramps and when I did, they didn't hurt the way some of my friends' cramps hurt where they were nearly homicidal. And to top it off, I haven't had cramps for 7 months. So to say that they were a little bit of a worry would have been an understatement.

Needless to say, the doctor didn't think it was funny either. Immediately, I was put on leave from work and the "cramps" which were apparently, "contractions" subsided. At Friday's follow-up, he asked about the "cramps" and I said truthfully, they only appeared when I went to work, which I'm still doing even though I'm officially off till the offspring arrive. It was amusing then to watch him talk to me as if a child- "So what does that tell you about going to work?" Of course, he explains in medical terms why going to work causes the contractions to occur. And that's where the word adrenaline comes in.

So, work causes an adrenaline rush and not in a good way. It's what gives me the energy to yell and flail my arms at the kids even when I feel like I've been run over by a truck. It's what gives me that extra bit of energy to fit political battles. But it's what causes the contractions.

Then, I tell him I'm miserable and sick and beg for some reprieve. He tells me what I can take, which isn't all that much because most cough and cold medication contains, say it with me, adrenaline, which is good to cure the common cold apparently, but not when one is trying to grow offspring to full-term without the added risk of inducing pre-term labour.

To top it all off, he gives the be-all- and- end-all warning. That I'm not to do anything that might cause any sort of surge in adrenaline unless I'm really that excited about seeing the offspring that I don't mind the miniature not-yet-fully-functional version that would need special and extremely expensive care. So, no exercise, no major fights with Packrat or my mother (although I must say, my mother is a more likely candidate than Packrat unless he WoWs indiscriminately into the night again), no having my fist stuck into a pot of hot water as if I were a poor caged up bear in China waiting to be eaten and no playing chicken with a monster truck.

In summary, the action junkie needs to take a chill-pill and it's gotta the herbal edition. Not all that exciting but then again, this is pregnancy, not the name game of death.

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Thursday, April 26, 2007

Gesundheit!

Packrat's been sick the last few days. He's had a dry cough and a little bit of the sniffles. I warned him rather unsympathetically that he was not to get me ill. Unfortunately, the warning did not work. I woke up this morning with a painful throat and have been drowsy the whole day. And progressively, through the day, my nose has become invisibly blocked. I say "invisibly" because it feels blocked, I feel sniffly but no matter how hard I try to blow my nose, nothing comes out.

All this would be fine if I could take these pretty pink Panaflu tablets my brother gave Packrat. But I can't. Because we don't know if it's safe for the offspring. In my brother's words, "we can't prescribe it because we don't know if it's safe. We don't know if it's dangerous either though." So there, can't win. Don't want to feel like I got hit by a cement truck but don't want to take the risk of anything harming the offspring.

So where does it leave me? Sniffly, congested, filled with water because that's all I can do- keep myself hydrated and hopefully "flush out" all the germies. The offspring know what is going on today, I think. There's generally less activity. I still feel the movement but it isn't the "haha, let's give mommy a shock and poke her in the ribs!" type of movement. It's more the comforting "I'm still here and I'm ok" type of movement which is nice because I don't want to have to worry that my being sick will affect the offspring.

Hopefully the water helps. Generally, the pregnancy has been good because I only got sick once before, at 5 1/2 weeks and it was like that and went away rather inconspicuously. So I'm hoping this one will too.

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Monday, April 23, 2007

Swopping breasts

I'm all for breast feeding. I know its advantages and I fully buy into it. But when I read this, I couldn't help being a little bit disturbed. I know one can donate breast milk, especially in NICU wards and all but erm, at this point, I hesitate somewhat.

Heh.

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The Name Game

A very common question asked during one's pregnancy is "Have you thought of any names yet?". It's a harmless question. It's just one of those filler questions that don't bug me all that much. Sometimes however, it gets a little bit more annoying especially when it comes from one's own mother.

My mother knows what names we have in mind. But being my mother, she needs to add her two cents worth. So here's how it went.

Mother: What about Joshua?
Me: No, my best friend's son is Joshua.
Mother: Never mind. It can still be Joshua.
Me: I don't want Joshua. Anyway, Joshua Tan? So common.
Mother: Never mind. It can still be Joshua. Joshua parted the River Jordan.
Packrat (trying to prevent his wife from being rude to her mother): But Moses parted the Red Sea and that's way cooler.
Mother: But Joshua is nice.
Me: Joshua in a mission school? Take stone and throw, 4 out of 5 times, you'll hit a Joshua. No.
Mother: Whhhhhyyyy?
Me (more emphatically): NO.
Mother: What about the Chinese name?
Me: You want Joshua as a Chinese name?
Mother: No, what Chinese name? Tan Chin Ku? (This, in dialect, means, wait very long- literally translated).
Me (suitably antagonised and refusing to see any humour in it) : NO!
Elder Brother: You do realise, Mother, that you're not going to have ANY say in the name?
Mother (Makes funny whiny sounds in reluctant defeat)...

Incidentally, Joshua did not part the River Jordan so my mother can go back to the drawing board. On days like that, I can only hope and pray I don't antagonise my kids like that. I know it's the mother's prerogative, but seriously, why inject more tension than necessary.

But then again, I'm in my last trimester and the happy hormones have officially gone bye bye.

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Friday, April 20, 2007

The bump circa 27 weeks in what appears to be a tight top. The basketball has really grown in the last 3 weeks.

Bump 27 weeks

And to think most of it is just fluid and placenta and all. The offspring weigh about 1/12th of all that!

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Pregnant Slut

Conversation overheard along the corridor.

Girl 1: Yah, I think she's damn vain.
Girl 2: Yah, I don't understand why she must wear tight clothes!
Me (ears pricking because these are two members of staff that I won't exactly call fashionably inclined)
Girl 1: Some more she's so pregnant! Why? She want to show off and tell the world she's pregnant is it?
Girl 2: Yah, why can't she wear some loose clothes like normal pregnant women?
Girl 1: Yah, why can't she hide it? So gross!
Girl 2: Vain what, want to show the world she's pregnant.

At this point, they realise there was some one behind them and turned around. And if only I had my camera with me, the looks on their faces when they realised the vain, pregnant show off was indeed walking behind them. So, in my stretchy non-pregnant top that shows my bump in its full glory, I get rid of the waddle and saunter right past them and show them that's how it's supposed to be done.

But anyway, I now know that in their very skewed and squinty eyes, I'm a pregnant slut. Oh well, if dressing well makes me slutty in their eyes, perhaps they need to be somewhat less prudish.

I'm assuming here, by no far stretch of the imagination, that these are the girls who, when they get pregnant, will wear hideous puffy sleeved dresses with bows on them, or ugly assymetrical tops or skirts to hide their bumps in the most distasteful of ways. This is worse than the other colleague that came up to me and commented that I must be a modern mother because I was in flat "aunty" sandals but in pointy 1 1/2 inch sling backs.

When will people learn that pregnancy isn't something to hide and one can actually look good when one is with child? As is, there's so much to be miserable about being pregnant, having pretty clothes and being able to look good in them is one of the perks!

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Pant!

Anyone who knows anything about me, pre-pregnancy would know that I prided myself in being fit and limber. I ran long distances for fun- took part in charity runs, triathlons, duathlons , I thought an ideal life was doing ballet 3 hours a day in the morning followed by pilates and I loved achy mucles. And I prided myself in having an average pulse rate of 40 something.

All that's gone to naught now.

Don't even talk about running (I think I'm banned from that anyway), I get breathless climbing stairs up to anywhere now where previously, I didn't break out into sweat climbing all the flights of stairs to my apartment. It's extremely tragic and comical from Packrat's point of view because I think finally, I know how he feels when I take off on a run and yell like a drill sergeant for him to keep up with me.

Sometimes I marvel at the changes that have occurred to me and am amazed at them because they're so drastic. A year ago, I would not have gone near chocolate milk, even though it's not all that foul because of the chocolate. Now, I drink it religiously. I haven't gone all that far to actually drink those foul concoctions like Anmum or Enfamum (although my brother very slyly put an Enfamum decal on our car when we were away). I've also given up wearing my 3 inch heels but that one, basically I was forced into conceeding because they got too uncomfortable and gave me leg cramps. And the size I have become! I'm the size of a small house now! I found some photos where I was tanned and lanky looking and there's none of that in sight! Not in my eyes anyway.

I'm not all that certain if I'll ever get back to being a size 2 with a pulse in the mid 40s but I sure do hope that I'll be able to run the 10 km again and not pant when I climb those stairs. I know motherhood changes one's life completely but I'm hoping that some parts of it remain recognizable.

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Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Headphones on the Belly

My weekly pregnancy update announced to me what I already knew, that even in utero, the offspring can actually hear what's going on in the outside world. I've blogged about playing music to the belly before. I don't really do it anymore because I feel like a grand idiot and someone told me it really isn't that great an idea. Anyway, I comfort myself by thinking that I expose them so much to sound and music anyway, what with the radio on in the mornings, the loud music in church that they respond to as well etc.

And what I read was also that the offspring would recognise later on what was played to him/her in utero. This morning however, it occurred to me that there was one piece of music that I listened to and by extension of that, the offspring would have listened to a lot. That thought made me recoil in horror because the piece of music I hear 5 times a week for 10 weeks at a time is the National Anthem. And I really don't want to have to sing that to the offspring as a lullaby because that was the only thing that would calm the screaming infant!

Maybe I should wear a pillow round my belly at assembly to muffle the impact but I'm not even certain that would work. Oh no oh no oh no!

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Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Mood ring

I've always wondered how mood rings work. I think I need one these days, just so that the classes that I step into know when not to piss me off, although that might actually mean, always. I'm particularly angsty today. I'm not sure whether it really just is this or whether it's the fact that I've had to rush deadlines these couple of days or that there's more to it or that there really isn't anything to it and it's just hormones at work.

But whatever it is, I feel I need to apologise to the offspring. Previously it used to be just me throwing a hissy fit and just my blood pressure sky rocketing. But now, with the offspring, I feel bad. When I get angry, the offspring learns what anger is and do I really want the offspring to learn that at such an early age?

A friend of mine has an angry and impatient baby who got pissed off at every tiny provocation and also took it out on her when she breast fed. He gave the name barracuda a new meaning. Then again, I have friends with the most serene babies in the world and I pray that the offspring will be that way. And I've blogged about worrying about how my behaviour might affect the disposition of the offspring.

So how do I unwind? How do I breathe when I get wound so tight at work? The solution, the one that I've been yearning for the last few weeks, to be put on leave, not bed rest (I specify that much) but just leave. Leave away from the stress and all the little 17 year old antagonists that send my blood pressure to the roof. But I also have a conscience. And if I go on leave, what happens to the little pesks? Who teaches them? What a love hate relationship I have!

That's one thing I hope never gets translated to the offspring.

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Saturday, April 07, 2007

Hot Milk!

I was having a conversation with Deb about dearth of decent looking maternity bras in Singapore. I was also expounding the joys of discovering the Bonds line of maternity bras and found a site for them. On the site, under Brands, was this brand.

Yes, it's still the lack of decent looking maternity bras but it's totally swung to the other extreme. To, slutty maternity lingerie.

Say it with me- YUCK!

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Rub-a-dub-dub

I got a text message from my mother-in-law a few days back that caused my brow to furrow so deep, if my face had frozen in the position, I'd look like one of those pug dogs.

The message read, " Are you going to bathe in any special herbs during confinement*? Some ladies bathe in pomelo skins. If you'd like to, I have to start collecting skins now." This caused the above reaction and prompted an immediate phonecall to my own mother. Unable to keep the hysterical puzzlement in my voice, it became rather high-pitched when she picked up the phone to her daughter semi-screaming "What the heck is this whole bathing in pomelo skin thing about?" This led to her hysterical too. But with laughter. That seems to be the choice reaction when I tell people about this pomelo skin thing. Packrat guffawed for a full 10 minutes when I told him and that settled into an occasional chuckle as he imagined his wife sitting in a bathtub with husks of pomelo floating about. It's apparently increased his desire to go out there and buy a new camera because this apparently, needed photographing.

Anyway, the reason behind the bathing in fruit skin, particularly pomelo (which is actually like grapefruit) or lemongrass or for the rich, XO, is one of astringent purposes. It is believed that after delivery, there is much "wind" in the body. I think that has got to do with the very drastic loss of water and blood circulating in the body, plus the fact that the run up to the delivery, a pregnant woman is running on a higher basal temperature than the average Joe. So all that shock to the body can slow down recovery after childbirth. Hence the bathing in elements with astringent properties.

My response to my mother-in-law was to go and collect the fruit skins if that was what she wanted although I warned her that she was not to, under any circumstance, lurk around the bins of fruit stalls to scavage for tossed out pomelo skins. The rationale- you gotta let the woman think what she does is helpful and it's good that she feels needed. And at least, she's gonna let me bathe! Which is a big big big enlightened step as is!

Actually, there wasn't going to be 2 ways with that one. I was going to bathe whether or not I was allowed to bathe. The reason for the lack of bathing is along the same lines as the bathing in the aforementioned items. And this is a battle I'm going to let slide because I can deal with it. In fact, I quite like eating pomelo and if her going around collecting pomelo skin means I have pomelo to eat, sure why not?

*Confinement- the first post natal month where traditionally, in Asian cultures, it's a time of convalescence and recovery where mother and child are taken care off by a older women in the family.


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Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Stupid comment of the day

"Wah, your bump is very round and symmetrical"

No shit. I know sometimes, according to the position of the offspring, it may seem off-centred but serioualy, what a dumb thing to say.

It's almost as good as...

"Wah, you're getting big"

Once again, no shit. I am growing a person in me.

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Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Worry wart

I have been told to enjoy the rest of my pregnancy and to enjoy the movements of the offspring within me because I will never feel a closer connection. I've also been told to enjoy every minute of being pregnant. I can see the logic in that- it is a somewhat liberating time since one is given the license to do so much.

One can waddle, burp, fart, put on a ton of weight, lose hair, look like a Neanderthal with excessive hair growth, burst into tears at little or no provocation whatsoever, be forgetful and get away with it. So it is great.

And yes, it's a strange feeling that could entertain you for hours if the offspring decided it was a hamster on a wheel and just moved round and round. I haven't experienced it personally yet but apparently, your belly can look like it's moving in waves, on its own.

But then, if you turn away from the superficial stuff, I mean, technically, you could do all that if you didn't care what the world thought of you, pregnancy can be a rather scary time. A friend told me that she spent her first trimester looking out for blood- a sign that there might be something wrong- and an acquaintance of mine who refused to buy anything for her baby or even talk about the baby till it was out because she had had one miscarriage. I thought it was weird at first but now I get it. One becomes fearful. Fearful of loving and hoping because like my brother once put it- "there's no guarantee until the bub is in your arms".

Packrat says I'm a worry wart. It's a symptom of a first time mother. I worry about everything, odd twinges of pain, too much movement, lack of movement, the fact that with my brother's stethoscope I couldn't hear anything- although I suspect that had more to do with the fact that I was probably holding it the wrong way or I was using it to listen to the television more than the inner gurglings that occur in my belly. He also claims I shouldn't worry because then I would have offspring that may not be happy and burdened with the world. My niece is a little bit like that, she's got a perpetual frown on and she looks as if it is up to her and no one else to figure out what the heck is going on. No, I don't want that sort of burden on my offspring but at the same time, I worry because I care.

I read in a book that it was ok to feel worried and it was ok to throw a fit occasionally because it exposes the offspring to a variety of emotions from the beginning and as long as it is no the sentiment of rejection or resentment for the offspring, it will be fine. I'm not entirely convinced by that either but then again, it makes me feel slightly less guilty when I need to throw a hissy fit although the last one I threw in all earnestness cos I really was mad, the offspring protested and kept me up for the better part of the night. "Mommy throws a fit, now it's my turn. Mwahahahah".

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