Bursts of happy trampoline jump into my heart space and I wonder if it’s the meds sometimes. I can feel mentally low and then I’m knocked over with a force of joy and am physically low.
I dislike talking about meds.
Any type of registered pharmaceutical thing.
I was always so against meds for better health. Even floopa loopin vitamins.
Now I’m here, still disliking them but more okay with them. It may be a few months of taking that little white oval with a line in the middle of it, but then that’ll be it. ‘Cause I’m a happy woman that don’t need no pilly pills.
I just believe that they’re doing something so that it works, no matter the way that it is.
It’s odd seeing people dressed in bar clothes in a hospital.
At least not in the asthma and allergy center.
As I’m writing this I realise I really could make a valid stand on why bar girls may be in this part of the hospital. Even more of a valid point if they’re with their 75 year old partner.
The real reason I write this post is because of what you’re about to read.
I hated every nurse in the room for the minute ( which seemed like 9 ) that they held Zeek down and took his blood. They wrapped him tight in a blanket and there were three of them standing over and while he began to wail, before I even felt anything,tears formed in my eyes.
I wasn’t expecting to feel what I did. This helplessness. This anger. I just wanted to rip him away from them and hold him. I looked around at everything and I felt hate for Lilo and Stitch. They were on the wall dancing away and they were far too happy.
My stomach turned and I felt thin and almost that I could faint.
And then he was handed into my arms and he stopped crying and put his head down on my shoulder while I wiped away the last of my own tears.
He was sleeping 3 minutes later. In my arms.
And I looked at his face,all blotchy and red and I said, ” I love you beyond what I can tell you, and that will never change.”
The day before was a blended mcflurry. Of smarties and m&ms, of reeses
pieces and fudge. I never tasted any of it but I knew it was spinning.
I knew The lid was about to come off and the contents were going to
The Monday prior to the big day, I had my first pelvic exam ever. I
wasn’t grossed out or nervous but it was the first real discomfort
that I knew would click in with the rest of labour.
She says it twice because I ask her to.
” your 3 cm dilated”.
I wash myself. i pull my clothes on slowly.
She states that I am in labour. And the words echo off the certified
Had I felt any such labour pain or cramping? None.
I walked out of their with explosive options. Either wait till
contractions became worthy of hospitilization or come in the next day
for the oxytocin. In other words, to have the baby.
I zombied around the halls. I zombied around the home.
The doc had long ago told me that she wasn’t going to induce me if
there were no signs of labour. My family and I all thought I would go
past my due date. Here I was two days till that day and I had already
been having progressive contractions. Without knowing.
I decided that the more dilated i could get at home, the better.
Besides, my sister hadn’t arrived yet.
I went home and called my dad in brazil. He said he’d be on the next
possible plane out.
The very next day, the true mcflurry day, I woke up feeling like it was the
last one I’d be pregnant.
Everything in those 24 hours was done or said or looked at
with the heavy frost of knowledge that I would be a mother the next
day. I wasn’t in any pain but I knew The doctor was right and I
shouldn’t wait too long. I didn’t want the baby gettig bigger anyway.
It was the evening . I called the doctor up with puffs of cloudy
questions, worried that perhaps baby was getting stressed in there .
She advised against waiting and said to come in the following day- at
least to check how far I’d dilated.
With that set in stone, I began to get frantic.All the things I had
to do before baby came. The lid on the mcflurry mix flung off and
pieces went everywhere. I was standing at the bottom of a flight of
stairs outside, attempting to take the last of the belly photos when i
broke down. The world felt heavy to my eyes. I felt like a collapsable
tent myself. This was me shutting down.
But back home, for a good hour I went around the
house wide eyed and in a frenzy that noone could stop.
I was filling up soap containers, organizing my closet,
sweeping the floors and raking the lawn. Things had to feel done.
I laid in bed that night thinking it’d be the last full night of sleep
for awhile. How right I was. I held my breath as I entered Sleepville
that night and in the morning, I, along with all those pieces, were
floating. Were actually floating.
All along I didn’t have as much faith in the hospitals here in
Thailand as I did for Canada. Not necessarily skillwise but culture
wise. What’s most common. Or the fact I’m white. That they would give
me a C section to get more money from us. Or feed my baby a bottle
when I had asked them not to. I just didn’t trust them. Concerns like
these that mounted over the months.
I’m not saying I ever fully did trust the staff. But I knew I was in
good hands. It was the best hospital we could have went to in the
area. If not in all of Thailand.
Our doctor I felt, was very abrupt at the beginning. I had wanted her
to tell me what she was going to do when she asked me to go up on the
table. I wanted to know things, to be told them so I wasnt laced with
In the end I came to understand how we would work.
I’d ask the hundred questions, even if on repeat, and she would answer
then to the best of her ability.
She was great. I am happy we went with her because she made me
feel like a pro in the end. And she wasn’t getting paid extra for that.
We may never know if our little Zeek needed to spend two nights in
ICU. Maybe we could justify one, but 48 hours? Apparently he had
swallowed too much fluid. And so when I saw him for the first time he
was in the clear box with two tubes in his mouth and an IV line in his
He looked rough then but by the next day they had removed the mouth
tubes. I held him then for the first time and cried .
Our bill ended up being double what we expected at Bangkok Pattaya
Hospital… due to the ICU. Other than that the nurses were all very
helpful and nice, the recovery room was great, food wasn’t too
terrible and the doc came by to check up on us a few times .
I’m pretty sure the entire birthing staff saw my boobs from day one. But
in the need if it all, it didn’t bother me.
I had a baby to feed and dang well if I was gonna scout out a lone
feeding space while my new baby was screeching.
It’s difficult to believe that only three weeks ago today it all
I stepped into the realm of motherhood.
And I sit so comfortably in the fact that I won’t ever not be in it.