So. How are you doing? I heard you...

A lot of people have been coming up to me lately asking me some variation of "how are you doing? I heard you had a rough time" or "I heard you went through some things".

I don't know if they're referring to me being physically sick or mentally ill. I always automatically think that the must be referring to my mental state and mumble something like, "yeah I really lost it and I'm still looking for it."

Nervous giggle.

Um. Yeah

So if you see me and you want to ask me how I'm doing, be sure you *really* want to know and please let me know what part of me you're referring to.

Just pumpin' and reading dooce.com

Yup.

Cos that's what I do. I recently discovered dooce.com (yeah, I know, right?) Well, I'm an absolute fangrrl now, cos I saw her on Oprah and I read her book and I'm a reading her blog all the time now.

It makes me feel like I'm not the only one.

And I need that.

Pretty sure that I'm certifiable

OK.

So I went back to work and lasted the week (yippee!). And then went back the following week and am sick again.

FARK.

And so is Kiran. Little sniffle here, little sniffle there.

I have a sore throat and a scratchy dry cough.

I'm not really impressed with this turn of events. Trying to stay strong but it's getting harder.

Good day today. I baked the cookies for Ray that I was gonna do on Father's day but didn't get a chance to. They are YUMMY!!!

I declare Sundays to be No-Limit-Cookie-Days. That's right, no limit!

Munchin is almost four months old. Can you believe it? Compare this photo of Kiran at 3 months

Now


Then (almost 3 months)


Then-then (a week old)

The one where you go back to work and everything is fine and then you get sick and then have to miss about as much work as you had worked.

I started back work on May 18. First day was AWFUL. I'm not going to lie. Work was easy. Dropping Kiran off at the daycare was AWFUL and not at all like leaving the cats at the kennel. That's all I have to go by and let me tell you; it's just not the same thing! Shocking.

First week goes by, I'm feeling good. I'm pumping at work, keeping up production, though slowly becoming convinced that the ladies at the daycare are just stuffing the baby with food everytime she squeaks. I'm pumping more and more and they keep asking for more. The child DOES NOT consume these quantities at the frequency with which they're feeding her when she's at home. Slowly beginning to despise these ladies.

May 24, Kiran and I both have a cold - daycare cooties! Kirandoc says she has an ear infection and prescribes antibiotics. I'm working it with extra liquids and huffing vicks vaporub.

May 29 and I'm still coughing and then it starts to get ouchie in the bastard boob (BB), you know, the boob that always give you trouble. With everything. Doesn't sit right, too big or too small or just plain trouble. I have a plugged duct and it hurts. A lot. Whole weekend, no relief from the BB, baby can't relieve it, pump doesn't relieve it. BB is now bringing down the other boob; The Champion Boob. Production is going down in both boobs and I'm not happy. I call La Leche League on June 1 and talk to the lovely LLL leader who tells me everything I already read on the internet and also some very kind and encouraging words that I really did need to hear. BB is feeling a little better.

June 2 - the fever starts. Oh my god in heaven. I don't know what happened but the fever swooped down and snatched my out of my life and my sanity. It brought with it chills and aches and a bone rattling cough and misery. Misery so thick and heavy that wraps its arms around you and won't let go and you are praying for The End to come.

Call my doc on June 3 and tell her I think I have mastitis. She calls in a prescription for antibiotics and I start taking them.

June 4, the fever is still there. I go to see my GP, except, she is in Hong Kong, so I have to see the doc next door. He tells me I'm very congested and gives me a breathing treatment in the office (which does nothing) and prescribes a z-pack for me.

Taking both antibiotics faithfully and go back to work on June 8. I don't even make it to lunch. Go see my gyn who checks out the parts and gives them all clear. If I'm still feeling bad she says, get back in touch with them or go see the GP. Advises me to go home and rest.

That night, as I'm sleeping soundly, I'm awakened by the most excruciating pain in my upper back that I have ever experienced in my life. And remember, I just had a baby. This fucking pain was unbelievable. Right below my right shoulder blade. Most intense pain.

By now, z-pack is finished, other antibiotics are finishing, I still have a fever and this pain is making me want to kill myself, I go back to the GP who is back from HK (yay!). She does a blood test and a chest xray and tells me I have a "cloudy patch" where I'm feeling the pain. I have some sort of infection. She gives me an antibiotic shot in the office. We have to wait 20 minutes before she'll let us leave in case I have a reaction to the shot (I didn't) and a prescription to another antibiotic. She wanted to put me on a different antibiotic that would prevent me from breastfeeding but I refused. She gave me an alternative.

This pain is KILLING me.

So I start taking this new antibiotic. And the prescription for 800 mg ibuprofen they gave me when I left the hospital after delivery for this unholy pain.

I just remembered that I never filled that script for the vicodin.

Man.

I should have filled that prescription. I'm sure I could find it if I looked hard enough.

June 11, no more fever. Pain is still there, though is giving me a reprieve for right now.

I'm so sick of being sick.

I'm really mad at the GP that saw me when my regular doc was out of town. I really feel that he wasted five days of my live. If my regular doc was there, she would have put on the right path sooner.

Poor Raymond. He's had to ferry Kiran to daycare at crack o' dawn o'clock and then go to his work and then pick her up and then come home and look after me.

Yesterday, my work sent me food from Jason's Deli. The delivery guy rang the door bell and I'm all like "why are you here?" and "is this for the upstairs neighbour?" as well as "who is it from??!" not to mention, "please hold, my cat is about to run out".

Because I TRUST NO ONE, especially when it comes to food delivery.

Thank you Schipul for the food. I really really really appreciate it. I'm sorry I've missed so many days of work, especially since I just started back. ~sigh~.

8 and a half weeks of motherhood

OMG and WTFrenchToast.

It's been eight and a half weeks since the munchkin arrived on the scene and turned everything all inside out and outside in.

Today is Mother's Day in the US. I'm not that excited though I am waiting for @rgayle to return with beignets, so I guess there are some perks to it. Even though I've been mothering 1 dog (dearly departed) and two DEMON cats for the past five years, it's not until the human baby arrived on the scene that it warranted making a beignet run for. Heh, not that I'm complaining!

Also for the first time, I have photographic evidence that Kiran and I togetha. For the first time evah!



**Update**
Beignets have been consumed and they were delish! Ray gave me a card from him and a card from Kiran that was addressed to "Mommie". OMG that made me cry.

ME.

CRY.

Black Stone Kerry.

What the hell is happening to me?

Then I opened the card from Ray. I turned the envelope over and he had written on the envelope, "My pen is hot ass."

I kid you not. I will post proof as soon as possible.

Apparently something about the pen smudging or blah blah blah.

Thank you Raymond. I love you.

If the child gets eaten, it's not by dingoes

Kiran bits - foots, originally uploaded by singaporegrrl.

I'm just saying. If the child gets eaten, it's not the dingoes that ate her.

It's me that ate her.

Look at that foot! I just want to slather some Nutella on it and eat it.

Omnomnom.

Six week post partum follow-up visit and how they don't want any unplanned pregnancies and my epiphany

The wolfette is 6 and a half weeks old today and is absolutely REFUSING to sleep for more than 15 minutes at a stretch today.

This makes me very tired.



Yawn.

I had my 6 week post partum follow-up visit today. I foolishly scheduled the appointment for 9 AM. That would have been fine in my pre-wolfette life, but now, it's hard to get anywhere before 10 o'clock with a wolfette in tow. (Case in point, it took me three days to write and publish this post)

We finally got there a few minutes after 9. We settle into the waiting room and I whip out the boob to silence, I mean feed her. Because this is America, or maybe a public doctor's office, no, mainly because this is America, I drape a covering over the babe/boob, lest any one in the gynaecologists office waiting room be offended by me breastfeeding my baby. Hey, you never know. Just cos you're at the gynae's doesn't mean you're down with a boob in your line of sight. Unless, of course, it's your mid-morning snack.

They call me in and I continue feeding her. The nurselady says, "Let us know when you're done and we'll take your blood pressure and weight".

"OK."

Wolfette finishes and I put her back in the carseat and sprint out to pee. Time is of the essence here (and everywhere else for that matter), gotta take care of business while she sleeps.

Nurse come in to take my BP (good) weight (Woot! WAY less than @eloy will EVAH be)

Then she asks me what form of birth control I'll be using.

"Uh, wha? I don't plan on ever having sex again."

"Does your husband know about this?"

"Not yet, but he will."

"Uh huh."

Waiting, waiting for the NP to come see me. She finally arrives and that's when Ms. Fusspot starts to stir. I'm going through my list of questions when NP asks me what form of birth control I'll be using.

"Um, ya, I don't plan on ever having sex again."

"Does your husband know about this?"

"Not yet, but he will."

"Well then."

They are really serious about planned parenthood here.

The wolfette begins to awaken. End up having to cuddle the squeaking grrl while the NP is inspecting the "parts".

I believe this is my new life. Breastfeeding in the dentist chair, holding her while I'm in the stirrups. It all takes a bit of getting used to.

Which brings me to my epiphany (thank gawd, you're thinking, cos this is one helluva long post, cheese and rice), where I realised that

1. My whole life has changed - ya, I knew that it would change but I couldn't quite imagine how it would change and how it would affect me.

2. It's hard saying goodbye to the old me. For reals. I never thought that it would be as tough as it has been, afterall, I'm me and I can do ANYTHING. Let me tell you, having a baby really turned that on its ear.

Some days are better than others.

I've never been able to ever allow any vulnerability or weakness to show cos, you know, I'm a "real tough chick".

Ya, well, I have to let it show through cos it's the smart thing to do. I'm a make it but I do have to keep reminding myself that I will and that I'm making it everyday.

OK.

That's the end of the long ass post. Please discuss amongst yourselves.