It's been a year since Heidi's birth. 12 months and I have not blogged much about this baby. Maybe on today, I should write something before she grows out of being a baby.
Heidi, in a way, has a number of things that she surpasses her brothers in and yet a number of things that worry us like the brothers never worried us before.
She was born the biggest of the 3, at 3.86 kg and 52cm. And she just keeps growing. She could turn over earliest, crawl earliest, stand earliest and walk earliest. What I saw as a tremendous struggle in Jethro and a little in Ethan did not seem to come across as such to her. She 'spider crawled' most of the time, getting from one point to another quickly. She had started to walk a few steps at 10.5 months old, then the next day perhaps decided she was not quite ready for it and stopped trying for awhile. Then around her 11th month, she started her walking again, this time steadier and more at ease. She could wave goodbye more readily than her brothers too.
But oh, the other stuff. Her eczema, her postural club feet, her hearing test failing, her pseudosquint (which set me worrying 'what if it's not just a pseudosquint but something more permanent?'), her inconsolable cries. And I am not even talking about the conjunctivities she had since she was born and requiring two trips to the doctors to cure, her small-sized teeth, her relative reticence and other bits and pieces that I would have accepted as all part of the bundle that came with the baby had she not had the more unique problems.
I thought Jethro had also enjoyed his brother's company more than Heidi does her brothers'. But maybe I speak too early. I should wait for a couple of months more. Ethan and Jethro were always smiling, seeming to enjoy themselves rather well, especially in areas where they would vex the adults (Jethro particularly so). Heidi appeared to be less so, frown more, such that up to now, I have very little to write about her. Perhaps it also had to do with the fact that I am working now. Perhaps it's also something to do with the differences between boys and girls. Girls do seem more serious, less wild and more shy at enjoying themselves whole-heartedly.
How is Heidi going to be like? I have re-read my blogs about Jethro's monthly report and found that in large parts, they are very much similar. Although Heidi's certainly more mobile, Jethro did not seem hampered by his slower physical development. His curiosity was that great, his presence that profound. His awareness of his surroundings seemed the keenest of the three.
I suppose my Heidi won't grow up to be a beauty, and she probably won't wear well the majority of the pretty girls' clothes that can be found in every children's wear shop (though I will probably still be tempted to get some of those pretty clothes for her and she will always be beautiful to me). But I hope she can transcend the superficial looks and develop her inner self, that soul which could be beautiful and strong and kind and loving and that mind that could be powerful and clever and perceptive. This is my wish for her, now I only hope I don't go and thwart my own wish through my own unwise methods of bringing up children.
Thursday, 22 December 2011
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Another Hospital Visit
So now it's Heidi's turn to be hospitalized. There is no escaping the fact that all three must, at one time or another, stay in the hospital for reasons other than their being born.
It happened on Friday. Well, actually, it happened one or two weeks before that, I should say. She had these big round red spots on her body, especially the arms and legs, that faded in a day or two, but would be replaced by new ones. It freaked out the care givers at the Infant Care, but what freaked them out further were those that appeared on Thursday. It prompted them to make a call to inform me at work: She's got these red patches on her face. The next day, the red patches had spread such that her face, from the eyelids down, was an even red and slightly bloated. Her eye lids looked puffy. Yes, she does not have eyes like dishes to begin with, but I was quite sure they weren't these small either.
Coupled with a mild temperature, the doctor at the polyclinic (whom I had to see in isolation as the nurses were afraid what she got would be contagious) referred me to A&E. So off I went, after giving her her breakfast cereals at home. The A&E doctor was also cautious. After asking me quite closely about her medicine and food intake, and finding nothing that could be a possible allergen, she recommended that Heidi be warded, to be seen by more specialised doctor. And so it began.
I should say I did not particularly enjoy it. The only good thing was it kept me away from the household chores, so I really could not make myself busy on them. I used the hospital's patient clothes for Heidi. They were a little large, but she looked so active I couldn't feel sad at all seeing her in them. I wanted to take a particular picture of her with one fore arm leaning on the cot bars, standing up so that her head was above the barriers, and her rashes sort of fading but not quite, in the baggy clothes. She looked so grown up then, like an idler leaning forward against a fence in a field. But alas, I had no camera with me. So anyway, I need not wash any clothes of hers. As for me, as Heidi would not let me out of sight, I could only do a quick wash when my parents came with Jianming bringing a change of clothes for me on the evening of day 2.
As the environment was new, she was excited, couldn't sleep well, and didn't want anybody else to carry her. Oh, the nurses were not required to take care of this patient. Mummy took care of everything, even the administering of medicine (just for the runny nose and phlegm). I went to the toilet once when I could not bear it anymore, and I could hear her cries as the hospital staff tried their best to sooth her and carry her.
There wasn't any place for Heidi to crawl or toy to play with. I asked a nurse where I could bring her to play. She pointed to the back of the ward helpfully. Upon reaching it, I found it's a dismal space of some children's table and chairs, one tattered toy that exercised your dexterity by making you move beads along some rods (the kind hospitals and clinics everywhere seem very fond of displaying as THE toy for bored kids to play with, and which were seldom touched by them) and a television that was always switched on, at Channel 8, watched by usually an old lady or a bored adult, but seldom the kids.
So poor Heidi had only the cot to move in, since she could not walk yet, and I could not condescend to let her crawl on the floor. Day 2 morning, a guy came, bringing some toys and said he wanted to guess her age by assessing her development milestones. Heidi pounced on the toys like someone deprived. And I too, was eyeing his toys even before he opened up the transparent box containing them. I remember a completely different experience, some three years ago, that her brother went through in another time zone. What is a Children's Hospital, if it doesn't have a play area and proper toys for the most important customers?
To tell the truth, Heidi probably did not have to stay in the hospital. In the same ward as Heidi were: a boy who could not breathe and had to have his throat cut so that air could get to his lungs; another whose arms needed to be propped up by wooden planks and did not seem as if he could move on his own - his limbs looked that weak; a baby younger than Heidi who required milk to be fed thhrough tubes, another boy who seemed to be slow in development and suffering from high fever. All of them lay in bed all day, hardly getting up at all.
Heidi stayed for two nights there: the doctors wanted to observe and make sure her fever had subsided, her rashes had faded or stabilised and her coughing was better, before discharging her. The morning the doctors came to do the rounds (and there was a group of doctors, I think some were new and learning), one lady doctor told Heidi softly, "Goodbye. Grow up strong and healthy." I guess it's always a welcome change to be able to discharge the little patients with a light heart.
So we were discharged with the diagnosis 'Erythedema Multiforme', which according to Wikipedia, is "a skin disorder of unknown cause". Which is as much as can be said for the whole experience there. Question marks ruled.
As it was some while since I last wrote the above, I should also update about Ethan. Well, Ethan has had this hoarse voice for the longest time (well, about 3.5 years). I think it happened one day when he was 2 years old plus, he had a cold, and his voice was hoarse. And we waited for him to recover. Then we gave up waiting.
Recently, we have taken to telling him to stop shouting. He can't seem to control the volume of his voice. One night on our way home a few weeks ago, I noticed that apart from straining his vocal cords to speak loud and high, his voice was also fading some what. Concerned, I suggested getting a referral to see a specialist and surfed the net for hoarse voices in children. It does seem to warrant some attention.
So one day, while Jethro and Heidi were having their developmental assessment, Ethan went to see a doctor to get a referral. The following Monday, Jianming brought him to see an ENT doctor. The verdict - vocal cords nodules. According to Jianming, the doctor thought the slight abrasion at his voice box could be the cause of the hoarse voice, and his loud talking could be the cause of the abrasion. So, he's to take a medicine that would reduce the acidic secretion at his voice box, and he's to go for speech therapy to learn to use his voice properly. I hope we may get to hear his kiddy voice again.
It happened on Friday. Well, actually, it happened one or two weeks before that, I should say. She had these big round red spots on her body, especially the arms and legs, that faded in a day or two, but would be replaced by new ones. It freaked out the care givers at the Infant Care, but what freaked them out further were those that appeared on Thursday. It prompted them to make a call to inform me at work: She's got these red patches on her face. The next day, the red patches had spread such that her face, from the eyelids down, was an even red and slightly bloated. Her eye lids looked puffy. Yes, she does not have eyes like dishes to begin with, but I was quite sure they weren't these small either.
Coupled with a mild temperature, the doctor at the polyclinic (whom I had to see in isolation as the nurses were afraid what she got would be contagious) referred me to A&E. So off I went, after giving her her breakfast cereals at home. The A&E doctor was also cautious. After asking me quite closely about her medicine and food intake, and finding nothing that could be a possible allergen, she recommended that Heidi be warded, to be seen by more specialised doctor. And so it began.
I should say I did not particularly enjoy it. The only good thing was it kept me away from the household chores, so I really could not make myself busy on them. I used the hospital's patient clothes for Heidi. They were a little large, but she looked so active I couldn't feel sad at all seeing her in them. I wanted to take a particular picture of her with one fore arm leaning on the cot bars, standing up so that her head was above the barriers, and her rashes sort of fading but not quite, in the baggy clothes. She looked so grown up then, like an idler leaning forward against a fence in a field. But alas, I had no camera with me. So anyway, I need not wash any clothes of hers. As for me, as Heidi would not let me out of sight, I could only do a quick wash when my parents came with Jianming bringing a change of clothes for me on the evening of day 2.
As the environment was new, she was excited, couldn't sleep well, and didn't want anybody else to carry her. Oh, the nurses were not required to take care of this patient. Mummy took care of everything, even the administering of medicine (just for the runny nose and phlegm). I went to the toilet once when I could not bear it anymore, and I could hear her cries as the hospital staff tried their best to sooth her and carry her.
There wasn't any place for Heidi to crawl or toy to play with. I asked a nurse where I could bring her to play. She pointed to the back of the ward helpfully. Upon reaching it, I found it's a dismal space of some children's table and chairs, one tattered toy that exercised your dexterity by making you move beads along some rods (the kind hospitals and clinics everywhere seem very fond of displaying as THE toy for bored kids to play with, and which were seldom touched by them) and a television that was always switched on, at Channel 8, watched by usually an old lady or a bored adult, but seldom the kids.
So poor Heidi had only the cot to move in, since she could not walk yet, and I could not condescend to let her crawl on the floor. Day 2 morning, a guy came, bringing some toys and said he wanted to guess her age by assessing her development milestones. Heidi pounced on the toys like someone deprived. And I too, was eyeing his toys even before he opened up the transparent box containing them. I remember a completely different experience, some three years ago, that her brother went through in another time zone. What is a Children's Hospital, if it doesn't have a play area and proper toys for the most important customers?
To tell the truth, Heidi probably did not have to stay in the hospital. In the same ward as Heidi were: a boy who could not breathe and had to have his throat cut so that air could get to his lungs; another whose arms needed to be propped up by wooden planks and did not seem as if he could move on his own - his limbs looked that weak; a baby younger than Heidi who required milk to be fed thhrough tubes, another boy who seemed to be slow in development and suffering from high fever. All of them lay in bed all day, hardly getting up at all.
Heidi stayed for two nights there: the doctors wanted to observe and make sure her fever had subsided, her rashes had faded or stabilised and her coughing was better, before discharging her. The morning the doctors came to do the rounds (and there was a group of doctors, I think some were new and learning), one lady doctor told Heidi softly, "Goodbye. Grow up strong and healthy." I guess it's always a welcome change to be able to discharge the little patients with a light heart.
So we were discharged with the diagnosis 'Erythedema Multiforme', which according to Wikipedia, is "a skin disorder of unknown cause". Which is as much as can be said for the whole experience there. Question marks ruled.
As it was some while since I last wrote the above, I should also update about Ethan. Well, Ethan has had this hoarse voice for the longest time (well, about 3.5 years). I think it happened one day when he was 2 years old plus, he had a cold, and his voice was hoarse. And we waited for him to recover. Then we gave up waiting.
Recently, we have taken to telling him to stop shouting. He can't seem to control the volume of his voice. One night on our way home a few weeks ago, I noticed that apart from straining his vocal cords to speak loud and high, his voice was also fading some what. Concerned, I suggested getting a referral to see a specialist and surfed the net for hoarse voices in children. It does seem to warrant some attention.
So one day, while Jethro and Heidi were having their developmental assessment, Ethan went to see a doctor to get a referral. The following Monday, Jianming brought him to see an ENT doctor. The verdict - vocal cords nodules. According to Jianming, the doctor thought the slight abrasion at his voice box could be the cause of the hoarse voice, and his loud talking could be the cause of the abrasion. So, he's to take a medicine that would reduce the acidic secretion at his voice box, and he's to go for speech therapy to learn to use his voice properly. I hope we may get to hear his kiddy voice again.
Friday, 27 May 2011
Mummy's Language Grader
I have not been to my in laws' place much since the birth of the third child. However, the boys still keep to the tradition. One day, while preparing to go there. Jethro asked me, "Mummy, can Heidi go to Ah Ma's place?"
Not wanting to say a straight 'no' and yet not soft-hearted enough to accede to a child's request, I beat around the bush a little: "Very troublesome... will go sometimes... only occasionally..."
Having said that, I went out, thinking I have made my reply understood.
Out of the room, I heard Jethro said in all innocence, "Daddy, Mummy said 'Can'!"
Not wanting to say a straight 'no' and yet not soft-hearted enough to accede to a child's request, I beat around the bush a little: "Very troublesome... will go sometimes... only occasionally..."
Having said that, I went out, thinking I have made my reply understood.
Out of the room, I heard Jethro said in all innocence, "Daddy, Mummy said 'Can'!"
Monday, 18 April 2011
An Amusing 'Conversation' With Jethro
I am always full time on a baby. One child, I am full time on him. Two children, I am full time on the new baby. Three children, I am still full time on the baby. So it's easy to conclude that I hardly spend time with the older 2 boys nowadays. I do feel sorely the missing out of these parts of their lives but I am just no supermum. Anyway, that's another matter. This time I am talking about one of those rare conversations I had with Jethro.
I was holding Heidi and Jethro was beside us, touching Heidi like some interesting creature (as all babies are).
Me: Jethro is a gor gor and a di di now.
Jethro: I not di di. She (Heidi) not di di. She mei mei.
Me: Is Jethro a di di?
Jethro: No. I gor gor.
Me: Jethro is a di di, Ethan's di di.
Jethro: No, Ethan big gor gor, I small gor gor.
Me: Jethro is who's di di?
Jethro: I no di di. I small gor gor.
Me: Does Ethan call you di di?
Jethro: No.
Me: Then what?
Jethro: ...
Me: He calls you Jethro?
Jethro: Yes.
A case of confused identity? He still can't process the fact that he is both a younger and an older brother...
I was holding Heidi and Jethro was beside us, touching Heidi like some interesting creature (as all babies are).
Me: Jethro is a gor gor and a di di now.
Jethro: I not di di. She (Heidi) not di di. She mei mei.
Me: Is Jethro a di di?
Jethro: No. I gor gor.
Me: Jethro is a di di, Ethan's di di.
Jethro: No, Ethan big gor gor, I small gor gor.
Me: Jethro is who's di di?
Jethro: I no di di. I small gor gor.
Me: Does Ethan call you di di?
Jethro: No.
Me: Then what?
Jethro: ...
Me: He calls you Jethro?
Jethro: Yes.
A case of confused identity? He still can't process the fact that he is both a younger and an older brother...
Thursday, 3 March 2011
Time-wasters
Life is hard as it is minding one baby most of the time and three kids some of the times. Why then, do I still insist on:
1. using 'home-made' cotton wool pads over baby wipes? Every time the cotton wool pads run out, or are running short, I have to 'make' again - add water, soak cotton wool in water, tear off pieces by pieces.
2. using cloth nappies over disposable diapers? Every time the baby urinates, I must change and wash the nappy. Woe befalls me when the baby passes one of her major motions...
3. not using rocker and pacifier, especially to keep her asleep? My arms ache, need I say more?
4. doing partial breast feeding instead of full formula? Now I have to pump, with baby looking on, ready to cry any moment, and it takes from me precious time that I could have used to do housework or go to sleep.
5. hand-washing most of the clothes instead of using the washing machine? I can only say it's a tradition passed down...
6. not getting a maid or part-time one at least???
But stubborn, block-headed me will still trudge along, resisting any changes for the better.
I have found it near impossible to write blogs using only one hand and carrying a sleeping baby on the other. Consider this then an amazing feat, motivated by my eagerness to question my own idiosyncrasies...
1. using 'home-made' cotton wool pads over baby wipes? Every time the cotton wool pads run out, or are running short, I have to 'make' again - add water, soak cotton wool in water, tear off pieces by pieces.
2. using cloth nappies over disposable diapers? Every time the baby urinates, I must change and wash the nappy. Woe befalls me when the baby passes one of her major motions...
3. not using rocker and pacifier, especially to keep her asleep? My arms ache, need I say more?
4. doing partial breast feeding instead of full formula? Now I have to pump, with baby looking on, ready to cry any moment, and it takes from me precious time that I could have used to do housework or go to sleep.
5. hand-washing most of the clothes instead of using the washing machine? I can only say it's a tradition passed down...
6. not getting a maid or part-time one at least???
But stubborn, block-headed me will still trudge along, resisting any changes for the better.
I have found it near impossible to write blogs using only one hand and carrying a sleeping baby on the other. Consider this then an amazing feat, motivated by my eagerness to question my own idiosyncrasies...
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