the great expectations

Is David really a good excuse for me not having a job two years after finishing my school? Most probably.

Should I be less demanding of myself? I had a difficult motherhood, with lots of unpleasant surprises. I suffered of insomnia and PTSS. The trauma of the birth is gone, the insomnia is mostly under control. (Except for tonight, see the previous two posts)

In the whole motherhood adventure very litlle turned out the way I expected.

I wanted to give birth at home (Dutch style): did not work. It turned into a hospital delivery becasue I was considered at risk during pregnancy.

I wanted to have an active, vertical birth (like a respectable dance movement therapist to be): did not work. They had to closely monitor the baby, so I had to lay down on my back with feet up cockroach style (or Kafka style to sound more intellectual).

I wanted my child to have a gentle birth (Frederic Leboyer, etc): did not work. He needed to be taken out in emergency with the vacuum pomp and transported immediately to the other room for resuscitation, tests, God knows what.

I wanted to be in close contact with my child after birth: did not work. They took him minutes after birth to the neo-natal intensive care unit.

I wanted to breast-feed: did not (fully) work. I have been separated from him 9 days after birth. In one hospital unit he was golping down formula milk from nurses, in another hospital unit i was desperately trying to get the hang of producing milk with a huge horrible pomping machine that was supposed to turn me into a mother. Eventually, after more than two weeks I was producing some milk and David did suck at my breasts for some months, but never convincingly (enough for me). I continued to pump for close to 8 months after birth. I owened a less-huge horrible pomping machine.

I wanted to take care of my baby, while my partner takes care of me (widely seen in the animal world): did not work. My partner had little interest in taking care of me, but huge interest in taking care of his baby. Actually he gave him the first meal after birth (bottle) in the neo-natal IC unit (NICU). (I was still lying cockroach style at the time, while some women were busy sewing me up)

I wanted to co-sleep with my baby and my partner (I had read a lovely book "Three in a bed" just before giving birth): did not work. We have done it for about 5 months when my partner drew my attention to the fact that in the morning, when he was getting up for work, he could nothing but notice that David was happily sucking at my breasts while I was sleeping/slumbering. He concluded (mostly correctly) the we were doing that the whole night through. Those were no healthy sleeping and eating habits for him, nore good sleeping conditions for me. I had to agree so David went to his own bed and later to his own room. (irony of it is that I slept even worse after this and arguably david too)

I wanted to go back to work (find a new job) around 6 months after delivery: did not work. David was waking up more and more during the night, and I was sleeping less and less. That´s when worries connected to his heart also started. He was eventually diagnosed with ASD when he was about 8 months old. I did not see myself holding down a job at the time. Much less go through application procedures, interviews, competition and selection.

I wanted him to start going to the creche around 8 months old (after a lot of hesitation, because I mostly hoped to sleep while he is there): did not work. Looks like in Holland you need to choose day-care and sign-up your unborn child, way before you give birth, to secure a place at the time you need it. David finally went to the creche when he was 14 months old. I hope at least I have learned my lesson and register him in time for school (which is about now if not yesterday).

I wanted him to be really attached to me and call me mama: works, but with hiccups. He is extremely attached to his father and I grow increasingly jealous of them. He cries a lot if his papa leaves. He cries if I leave only if he is left with other people, not if he stays with his papa. He said "papa" as his first word. It is true, in Romanian, then, my language ("tata"). He is starting to say something like "mama" now, but I am not always sure if he means me, or "nana" which refers to a banana.