Tiny Town may feel like home, but I can hardly get everything my little heart desires here. In the four years and change I've been here now, I'm surprised by how many foreign foodstuffs have made it to our corner of France, even if I have to go to Troyes to find them. When I moved here, I asked the lady at the cheese counter in one of the grande surface stores if she had cheddar and she laughed and said I'd never find that here! It finally showed up in the other grande surface last year and you can guess who's getting my business! Ok, the other one is actually closer to Tiny Town, but I like to pretend I'm voting with my euros...
The point is, there are fewer and fewer things I pine for to the point that I'll ask someone in the States to send me something. Today I bought a nice big chunk (about a pound and a half) of cheddar, which I immediately shredded and put half in the freezer when I got home, and a couple of containers of fried onions, which aren't a perfect facsimile of French's fried onions, but I can still make a green bean casserole now and again (also thanks to the Campbell's condensed soups I bought at a grocery near Doc's house!). I was also very excited to find a source for dry pinto beans in Les Halles, an "open air" market (now enclosed) in Troyes, at a stall called Epicerie du monde. You can be sure that I'll be attempting to make some refried beans this weekend.
Of course the downside to all this (that is, if you're Stéph) is that I get to inflict my foreign tastes on my husband, who then tells me if he can be bothered to eat them again. Refried beans were not a big hit the first time around when they showed up at my door in cans, so I'll be making a nice lentil and sausage stew for Stéph, to eat while I eat my bean burritos. That suits me fine, since I'm not a fan of lentils and sausage anyway!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
discovering Tiny Town
Every day that the weather is nice enough, Fry and I go on a walk. These walks are usually between thirty and forty-five minutes, and I try to take a different route every time. In this manner, I've discovered neighborhoods I didn't know existed.
Stéph and I have decided that we want to eventually buy a home here in Tiny Town, so these walks give me the opportunity to daydream about where I'd like to live and what kind of home I'd want to live in. Plus, that means that Tiny Town will be Fry's hometown, so I imagine us throwing around the baseball as I push the stroller through the park, or imagine taking him to school as I pass the maternelle. Rumors are flying around that a public swimming pool is going to be built here, so I try to figure out where it's going to go.
In addition to my nearly daily walks, Stéph and I are taking advantage of having specialty stores within walking distance, not to mention an excellent restaurant or two, so that means I'm on smiling-and-waving terms with the butcher, the owner of the Moroccan restaurant and the woman that runs the garden shop (though she's the exception - I've been there once and she still says hello to me!).
I have resisted liking this place for so long, dreaming that we would eventually return to a larger city. The truth is, Stéph is very happy where he's teaching now, and the difference between now and our first year of marriage, when he had to commute forty-five minutes and had migraines three nights a week, are legion. But ever since Fry arrived, something just clicked. At last, after three years, Tiny Town is finally starting to feel like home.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The audacity of hope
Thanks to a live link on cnn.com, Fry and I were able to watch the Inauguration yesterday. Fry was incredible - he seemed to be focused on the screen and was calm and interested. He especially loved the music.
I couldn't help but get emotional when Barack Obama stepped forward to take the Oath of Office. As he finished, I pointed to the screen and said to my son with tears in my eyes, "That man is the President of the United States!"
That's when I realized that Fry had fallen asleep.
Oh well, at least he'll be able to say, someday, that he watched history being made, even if he doesn't remember it!
I couldn't help but get emotional when Barack Obama stepped forward to take the Oath of Office. As he finished, I pointed to the screen and said to my son with tears in my eyes, "That man is the President of the United States!"
That's when I realized that Fry had fallen asleep.
Oh well, at least he'll be able to say, someday, that he watched history being made, even if he doesn't remember it!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
two months
Maaaaaaaan, I'm getting later and later with these....
So, we had Fry's two month checkup last week and it was Fry's first appointment with Dr. H (yep, we've successfully switched). This month he measured 59.5 cm (23.4 inches) and weighed in at a whopping 6.2 kilos (13.7 pounds)! Aside from dry skin, which is most likely because of the super dry and cold weather we've had lately, he's doing really well. Dr. H commented on his big feet, and I think his hands are going to be large too, thanks to his long fingers (which are now more pudgy than anything), but I don't necessarily think this means he'll be tall, as my Dad had enormous hands and large feet but was not exactly a giant.
We also had to order his first vaccinations, which we'll do next month. In France, the doctor gives you a prescription for the vaccinations, which you have to fill out at the pharmacy (and keep in the fridge!), and then take a dose with you to the doctor's office, where he'll do the injection. I can see the good and bad points for this method. Obviously it's a pain in the ass (ha ha!) for the patient to have to do the running around, but it also helps keep the doctor's costs down, as they don't have to stock a lot of medicines they may not always need. Case in point - Dr. H is a family doctor, not a pediatrician, so how many vaccinations do you reckon he does in a year? I'm guessing not a lot.
Anyway, French three-month clothes only go up to 60 cm (American ones are slightly larger, go figure) so I'm in the process of changing over his wardrobe. He's already been in six month onesies for about a week, thanks to the big ole butt his cloth diapers give him, but today it became obvious this his pajamas are really too small. It's so strange when I can remember that not so long ago he was swimming in the same pajamas! Tomorrow he'll start swimming in clothes again and I'll start packing up the old ones. *sigh*
Other than that, we're just rolling along. He's still eating more than is recommended by the formula folks and he's turning into a real butterball, but the doctor hasn't said anything about his weight and Stéph and I are keeping our worrying down to a dull roar. It's hard not to freak out when you hear about CHILD OBESITY all the damn time but you try telling a two month old that he can't have a bottle and good luck to you! Of course, according to the French clothing industry, my two month old is the size of a three month old, so I guess he's not doing so bad after all!
So, we had Fry's two month checkup last week and it was Fry's first appointment with Dr. H (yep, we've successfully switched). This month he measured 59.5 cm (23.4 inches) and weighed in at a whopping 6.2 kilos (13.7 pounds)! Aside from dry skin, which is most likely because of the super dry and cold weather we've had lately, he's doing really well. Dr. H commented on his big feet, and I think his hands are going to be large too, thanks to his long fingers (which are now more pudgy than anything), but I don't necessarily think this means he'll be tall, as my Dad had enormous hands and large feet but was not exactly a giant.
We also had to order his first vaccinations, which we'll do next month. In France, the doctor gives you a prescription for the vaccinations, which you have to fill out at the pharmacy (and keep in the fridge!), and then take a dose with you to the doctor's office, where he'll do the injection. I can see the good and bad points for this method. Obviously it's a pain in the ass (ha ha!) for the patient to have to do the running around, but it also helps keep the doctor's costs down, as they don't have to stock a lot of medicines they may not always need. Case in point - Dr. H is a family doctor, not a pediatrician, so how many vaccinations do you reckon he does in a year? I'm guessing not a lot.
Anyway, French three-month clothes only go up to 60 cm (American ones are slightly larger, go figure) so I'm in the process of changing over his wardrobe. He's already been in six month onesies for about a week, thanks to the big ole butt his cloth diapers give him, but today it became obvious this his pajamas are really too small. It's so strange when I can remember that not so long ago he was swimming in the same pajamas! Tomorrow he'll start swimming in clothes again and I'll start packing up the old ones. *sigh*
Other than that, we're just rolling along. He's still eating more than is recommended by the formula folks and he's turning into a real butterball, but the doctor hasn't said anything about his weight and Stéph and I are keeping our worrying down to a dull roar. It's hard not to freak out when you hear about CHILD OBESITY all the damn time but you try telling a two month old that he can't have a bottle and good luck to you! Of course, according to the French clothing industry, my two month old is the size of a three month old, so I guess he's not doing so bad after all!
Friday, January 09, 2009
I told you she was hardcore
This week, French Minister of Justice (which is the equivalent to the American Attorney General) Rachida Dati came back from her maternity leave a little early. That's if you can call five days after the birth early.
Yes, let that sink in a minute - five days after the birth she was filmed walking through the courtyard of the Elysée in high heels and a form fitting black dress that showed that she has nearly gotten her figure back.
This is not the first time that Ms. Dati's pregnancy has made people talk. The 43 year old is not married and has not publicly acknowledged who the father of her daughter is. Now imagine Condoleeza Rice doing the same thing. You could make the argument that the French regard private lives to be just that, but you could certainly say she is pushing the envelope, even by French standards.
Now. My first reaction - no wait, my second reaction, because my first reaction required picking my jaw up off the floor - was that I felt an enormous amount of sympathy for her. I cannot begin to imagine the amount of political pressure the woman is under, especially since President Sarkozy has just announced some major changes to the French law system.
On the other hand, what message is this sending to women, French or otherwise? It's all very "passing off the baby to the nanny" super upper class, isn't it? Here I'm feeling guilty about being home with Fry after two months when most mothers back in the States would have been back to work by now (of course, I have no work to go back to but that's another story altogether). I am in no way suggesting that she should have quit her job, but in a world where the extremely high cost (and, especially in the France, the availability) of child care leaves many families trying to figure out if both parents working is even feasible, what kind of message is this sending?
I don't have the answers. As I said before, I'm sympathetic to her situation but I find it a bit shocking all the same. What do you think?
Yes, let that sink in a minute - five days after the birth she was filmed walking through the courtyard of the Elysée in high heels and a form fitting black dress that showed that she has nearly gotten her figure back.
This is not the first time that Ms. Dati's pregnancy has made people talk. The 43 year old is not married and has not publicly acknowledged who the father of her daughter is. Now imagine Condoleeza Rice doing the same thing. You could make the argument that the French regard private lives to be just that, but you could certainly say she is pushing the envelope, even by French standards.
Now. My first reaction - no wait, my second reaction, because my first reaction required picking my jaw up off the floor - was that I felt an enormous amount of sympathy for her. I cannot begin to imagine the amount of political pressure the woman is under, especially since President Sarkozy has just announced some major changes to the French law system.
On the other hand, what message is this sending to women, French or otherwise? It's all very "passing off the baby to the nanny" super upper class, isn't it? Here I'm feeling guilty about being home with Fry after two months when most mothers back in the States would have been back to work by now (of course, I have no work to go back to but that's another story altogether). I am in no way suggesting that she should have quit her job, but in a world where the extremely high cost (and, especially in the France, the availability) of child care leaves many families trying to figure out if both parents working is even feasible, what kind of message is this sending?
I don't have the answers. As I said before, I'm sympathetic to her situation but I find it a bit shocking all the same. What do you think?
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Bonne année & bonne santé !
Happy New Year and Good Health, as the French say! I can't believe we're nearly a week into 2009 already!
We rang in the New Year with a friend of ours. She's a pretty heavy smoker, and before we quit we used to smoke like demons together, but visiting her was a real eye-opener. I was hesitant to go because I didn't feel comfortable telling her that she couldn't smoke in her own home (because of Fry's presence, of course), but she insisted that she would smoke in the kitchen with the door closed and I felt like that was enough of a compromise. Well, she announced upon arrival that she hadn't smoked in the living room all day and it still smelled like the inside of an ash tray! It's so funny that when you're a smoker, you sincerely think you've made such a huge improvement in such a short amount of time! Both Stéph and I indulged in a cigarette or two, but to be honest I don't miss smoking at all, especially when we got home and simply everything reeked of smoke, from the diaper bag to Fry's clothes! I think we'll visit this friend again in summer, when it's warm enough to sit outside...
Stéph went back to work yesterday and I had my first day completely alone with Fry since he was only four weeks old. I was totally worn out by the time Stéph came home in the evening! We woke up to a nice layer of snow as well, which freaked me out because we really had to go to the store yesterday for some essentials. We survived the snowy drive to the store and back and I spent the rest of the day trying to get a little housework done and keeping Fry happy. I tried to take a nap in the afternoon but I just seem to have some kind of mental block about sleeping during the day! The whole time I feel like a lazy bastard while I think about all the things I could be doing. I finally took a nap in the evening, which I guess I'll have to keep doing as long as I have night duty. Stéph and I have worked out that I'll do all the night feedings when he has to work the next day, which actually works out really well for us, as long as I can catch a nap during the day! You can see my dilemma.
Finally, I just got a really nice letter in the mail. When we sent out our birth announcements (in France, the American ones are still on their way over the ocean I think), we included both the OB/GYN that I saw for the first half of my pregnancy and the one I saw for the second half after the first one had a debilitating accident. They share an office so it was no problem to address the announcement to both doctors. The letter I received this morning was from the first doctor who not only thanked us for the announcement, but he apologized for being unavailable for the end of the pregnancy and birth! I just think that was a really nice gesture. I've still been seeing the second doctor since Fry was born because his hours are a bit more convenient for us, but now I feel like I want to try to get in to see him just to say hello!
Speaking of doctors, I think I've finally convinced Stéph that it would be better for us to switch over to Dr. H as our primary doctor. I need to make an appointment for Fry's second month (already!!!) so I'll have to make that call this week.
I hope you all had a great New Year's! I don't know about you, but I have a very good feeling about 2009!
We rang in the New Year with a friend of ours. She's a pretty heavy smoker, and before we quit we used to smoke like demons together, but visiting her was a real eye-opener. I was hesitant to go because I didn't feel comfortable telling her that she couldn't smoke in her own home (because of Fry's presence, of course), but she insisted that she would smoke in the kitchen with the door closed and I felt like that was enough of a compromise. Well, she announced upon arrival that she hadn't smoked in the living room all day and it still smelled like the inside of an ash tray! It's so funny that when you're a smoker, you sincerely think you've made such a huge improvement in such a short amount of time! Both Stéph and I indulged in a cigarette or two, but to be honest I don't miss smoking at all, especially when we got home and simply everything reeked of smoke, from the diaper bag to Fry's clothes! I think we'll visit this friend again in summer, when it's warm enough to sit outside...
Stéph went back to work yesterday and I had my first day completely alone with Fry since he was only four weeks old. I was totally worn out by the time Stéph came home in the evening! We woke up to a nice layer of snow as well, which freaked me out because we really had to go to the store yesterday for some essentials. We survived the snowy drive to the store and back and I spent the rest of the day trying to get a little housework done and keeping Fry happy. I tried to take a nap in the afternoon but I just seem to have some kind of mental block about sleeping during the day! The whole time I feel like a lazy bastard while I think about all the things I could be doing. I finally took a nap in the evening, which I guess I'll have to keep doing as long as I have night duty. Stéph and I have worked out that I'll do all the night feedings when he has to work the next day, which actually works out really well for us, as long as I can catch a nap during the day! You can see my dilemma.
Finally, I just got a really nice letter in the mail. When we sent out our birth announcements (in France, the American ones are still on their way over the ocean I think), we included both the OB/GYN that I saw for the first half of my pregnancy and the one I saw for the second half after the first one had a debilitating accident. They share an office so it was no problem to address the announcement to both doctors. The letter I received this morning was from the first doctor who not only thanked us for the announcement, but he apologized for being unavailable for the end of the pregnancy and birth! I just think that was a really nice gesture. I've still been seeing the second doctor since Fry was born because his hours are a bit more convenient for us, but now I feel like I want to try to get in to see him just to say hello!
Speaking of doctors, I think I've finally convinced Stéph that it would be better for us to switch over to Dr. H as our primary doctor. I need to make an appointment for Fry's second month (already!!!) so I'll have to make that call this week.
I hope you all had a great New Year's! I don't know about you, but I have a very good feeling about 2009!
Monday, December 29, 2008
the baby pool
I very nearly forgot about this! I finally plugged in Fry's birth info and found out the winners. Stéph and I came in second and third, but the overall winner was Carol in CA! Congratulations, Carol! You've won the satisfaction of coming in first place. :)
I have to say, though, I was pretty impressed that Lisanne was only two hours off on the date and time! You can see how everyone did by clicking here.
I have to say, though, I was pretty impressed that Lisanne was only two hours off on the date and time! You can see how everyone did by clicking here.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
merry merry merry!
Hey, look at me blogging three times in the same week! Woohoo!
So, last night went fine, though I did forget to take an Actifed before we left, so I was pretty much sniffly and out of it most of the time. Fry wasn't too fussy but we couldn't get him to sleep in the other room, so we ended up keeping him with us all evening. No matter, since he was awake for nearly six hours last night, he gave us a lovely Christmas present - sleeping through the night last night! He was a big hit with his cousins, especially his two year old cousin, C. She kept wanting to hold his hand, which was very sweet.
The apéritifs went over great, mostly with the adults, and of course we came home with the one vegetable I'm not a huge fan of: broccoli. Maybe I'll make a big chicken and broccoli stir fry this weekend... Our apéritifs were followed by my MIL's specialty, coquilles St. Jacques, a seafood dish with mussels and scallops in a creme sauce, usually served in a half shell. The main course was turkey stuffed with walnuts and raisins, cannette, or duckling, veggies and a gratin dauphinois, which was followed by salad and cheese and polished off with some ice cream cakes. Believe it or not, I managed to have a little bit of everything without stuffing myself! Miracle of miracles...
This morning I had to run to the boulangerie for bread, since Stéph and I are making a fondue for dinner tonight. It may come as a surprise that some shops are open on Christmas day, at least until noon. This is because a well made baguette should only be fresh for one day before it's as hard as a rock, so of course we all need fresh bread on Christmas! I know the butcher was also open this morning, and of course the bar was doing a brisk business as well! At the boulangerie, I found these little cakes and had to indulge:
(Sorry for the poor quality of the photo: it's so hard to get nice pictures with my point and shoot during winter because it's so freaking dark all the time!)
So, the traditional dessert for Christmas is the bûche de noël. When I saw these individually sized "buchettes," I knew I had to get a couple for us!
Today, I'm still pretty sick but the cold medicine seems to be working so hopefully this will only last a couple of days (and Fry won't catch it!). I hope y'all got something better than a cold for Christmas!
So, last night went fine, though I did forget to take an Actifed before we left, so I was pretty much sniffly and out of it most of the time. Fry wasn't too fussy but we couldn't get him to sleep in the other room, so we ended up keeping him with us all evening. No matter, since he was awake for nearly six hours last night, he gave us a lovely Christmas present - sleeping through the night last night! He was a big hit with his cousins, especially his two year old cousin, C. She kept wanting to hold his hand, which was very sweet.
The apéritifs went over great, mostly with the adults, and of course we came home with the one vegetable I'm not a huge fan of: broccoli. Maybe I'll make a big chicken and broccoli stir fry this weekend... Our apéritifs were followed by my MIL's specialty, coquilles St. Jacques, a seafood dish with mussels and scallops in a creme sauce, usually served in a half shell. The main course was turkey stuffed with walnuts and raisins, cannette, or duckling, veggies and a gratin dauphinois, which was followed by salad and cheese and polished off with some ice cream cakes. Believe it or not, I managed to have a little bit of everything without stuffing myself! Miracle of miracles...
This morning I had to run to the boulangerie for bread, since Stéph and I are making a fondue for dinner tonight. It may come as a surprise that some shops are open on Christmas day, at least until noon. This is because a well made baguette should only be fresh for one day before it's as hard as a rock, so of course we all need fresh bread on Christmas! I know the butcher was also open this morning, and of course the bar was doing a brisk business as well! At the boulangerie, I found these little cakes and had to indulge:
(Sorry for the poor quality of the photo: it's so hard to get nice pictures with my point and shoot during winter because it's so freaking dark all the time!)
So, the traditional dessert for Christmas is the bûche de noël. When I saw these individually sized "buchettes," I knew I had to get a couple for us!
Today, I'm still pretty sick but the cold medicine seems to be working so hopefully this will only last a couple of days (and Fry won't catch it!). I hope y'all got something better than a cold for Christmas!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
merry merry!
Man, did Christmas sneak up on me this year! Can't imagine why... Even so, we did manage to get a small Christmas tree (or, as I prefer to call it, the Christmas shrub), which does in fact have lights but I caught them at a bad blinking moment.
The presents are all wrapped and y'all, I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am that I convinced Stéph that we should buy some gifts when we were on vacation in August. There is no way we would have gotten anything done in the last few weeks, otherwise. In fact, there are a couple of presents we still need for family we won't see until New Year's Eve, so we drove to the big shopping district on our way home from the in-laws' yesterday. When we saw how bad the traffic was, we turned right around and went home (we'll hit it up the day after Christmas). Two crafty projects I wanted to give as gifts that didn't get completed before Fry was born are still unfinished. Luckily, no one is going un-gifted as I did get all the projects done for our nieces and nephew before Fry arrived.
Every year, we gather with Stéph's family on Christmas Eve and everyone takes care of one course. This year we're doing the apéritifs. We decided on nothing very complicated: sausage wrapped in pastry (pigs in a blanket! yee-haw!) and some veggies and dip. God willin' and the creek don't rise, we'll get a little sleep tonight, as Christmas Eve always tends to run to the wee hours. After all, we have to open all the gifts after dinner!
If I don't make it back here until the end of the week, let me wish you all a very happy holiday season! May you get everything you wish for!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
in which Vivi runs away
When Stéph started his paternity leave, he gave me an unexpected and much needed gift: a "Get out of Tiny Town Free" card. So last week I left the boys at home and went to Paris for the day.
On my way to meet Katia and kyliemac and Aimee for lunch, I happened to pass Saint-Séverin Church, which is special for me because it is one of the places my high school choir sang when we came to Paris nearly twenty years ago. (As an aside, I can't believe I could have done anything worth remembering twenty years ago!) I ducked inside and let my memories take me back. How lucky was I, going to Europe at the age of sixteen! That was supposed to be a once in a lifetime trip. Little did I know...
After marveling at the bizarre paths life takes us on for a while, I went on my way to El Sol y La Luna, where the girls and I indulged in some delicious South American fare (and good gossip!). After lunch, Aimee and I walked down to her tea house, L'Oisive Thé, so I could finally check out the renovations she did in August (lookin' good, as always!). Then we did a little Christmas shopping and it was already time for me to head back home.
It was a day out that I didn't realize how badly I needed until I was on the train back home. Settling in with a magazine and sore feet (seriously, why do I always wear the wrong shoes when I go to the city? Why??), I felt relaxed, focused, and ready to get home and scoop up my little Fry in my arms.
On my way to meet Katia and kyliemac and Aimee for lunch, I happened to pass Saint-Séverin Church, which is special for me because it is one of the places my high school choir sang when we came to Paris nearly twenty years ago. (As an aside, I can't believe I could have done anything worth remembering twenty years ago!) I ducked inside and let my memories take me back. How lucky was I, going to Europe at the age of sixteen! That was supposed to be a once in a lifetime trip. Little did I know...
After marveling at the bizarre paths life takes us on for a while, I went on my way to El Sol y La Luna, where the girls and I indulged in some delicious South American fare (and good gossip!). After lunch, Aimee and I walked down to her tea house, L'Oisive Thé, so I could finally check out the renovations she did in August (lookin' good, as always!). Then we did a little Christmas shopping and it was already time for me to head back home.
It was a day out that I didn't realize how badly I needed until I was on the train back home. Settling in with a magazine and sore feet (seriously, why do I always wear the wrong shoes when I go to the city? Why??), I felt relaxed, focused, and ready to get home and scoop up my little Fry in my arms.
Friday, December 12, 2008
on doctors
I don't know if you've heard, but there's a crisis of sorts for doctors in this country. The problem isn't that there aren't enough doctors, it's that they only want to work in major metropolitan areas. That means that there are hundreds of small communities in France that have no local doctors and the inhabitants are forced to drive far from home to see a doctor, and while these communities often have nurses who make house calls, there are only so many things they can do to provide medical assistance.
Now, I knew this was true for small villages, but I never imagined that we would have the same problem here in Tiny Town! We are pretty much self-sufficient here, with two groceries, quite a few shops and services, and we find ourselves "having" to go to Troyes less and less for specific things. Don't get me wrong - Tiny Town has just about everything except, you know, entertainment, unless you count the bar down the street, so it's not perfect, but we get along alright. But it turns out that yes, we are having our own doctor crisis here in Tiny Town, which actually affects several communities in the area as well that rely on Tiny Town for their services, too.
When we moved to Tiny Town three years ago, one of us needed to see a doctor, so I did the sensible thing and chose the first name out of the phone book. Generally speaking, we were happy enough with Dr. A that we had him declared as our médecin traitant (pretty much the same as a primary care physician in the States, plus we receive a larger reimbursement when we see our médecin traitant than when we see another doctor). Soon, little things started bothering me: I always felt super rushed during an appointment with him, as if he was in a huge hurry (maybe typical in the States but not really here in France), and his hours left something to be desired. He only takes appointments in the mornings, and in the afternoons it's first come first served. Sounds nice, but we've waited upwards of two hours - not fun when you're sick. This is especially hard when you have an urgent situation and can't get an appointment in the morning. More than once, Stéph has gone to work sick when he should have stayed home because he couldn't stand the idea of sitting in the waiting room for hours on end to get the required doctor's note for his sick day.
During the course of my pregnancy, I never had a need to visit Dr. A, and if Stéph really needed to see a doctor on short notice and couldn't get in to see Dr. A, we called Dr. H, who works in the same building and always seems to have room in his schedule. Dr. H isn't exactly what you would call extroverted, but he seems like a good doctor and we've never had to wait long to see him. We started to wonder if we hadn't chosen the wrong doctor.
I've been wondering if it wouldn't be a bad a idea to change our médecin traitant for a while, but recent events have convinced me that it would be a good idea. First, when I got home from the maternity, I had to have daily shots for three weeks, so we had someone from the local nurse's office come by the house every morning (we paid a slightly higher fee - maybe around 40€ out of pocket in total? - but most of that was reimbursed). When we mentioned that Dr. A was our médecin traitant, one of them told us that in the last year he's cut his office hours in half because of other obligations and he's been trying to hire a doctor to share his office with him, but he can't find one that would be willing to work "in the country." Next, I made an appointment with Dr. A for Fry's first month appointment (since we don't have a pediatrician here in Tiny Town), and the soonest appointment available was two weeks out. Then, we finally had his appointment this week and the doctor seemed so rushed that I felt like we were being pushed out the door. When I called his office an hour later to clarify something he suggested during the appointment, I had barely said my name before he cut me off and said, "Look, can you call me back after 3:00?" and nearly hung up on me.
The final nail in the coffin is that I've had some kind of weird sickness happening this week. I started breaking out in a rash on Monday in the same area as where I had my injections, and they only got worse. Wednesday we decided that I'd better have it looked at, and knowing Dr. A would either be unavailable or I'd be forced to wait a couple of hours, I called Dr. H, who had an opening that very morning. He gave me a prescription and told me that if it wasn't better by Friday, I'd have to give him a call. Well, Friday came and it wasn't better, plus I'd been fighting a fever since the day before. He had me come back in that afternoon, put me back on an antibiotic and sent me off to have a blood test, and then we chatted about random stuff for another five minutes or so. We still don't know what exactly is wrong with me (I'm not going into great detail here in order to keep this already long post from gaining epic proportions), but I like Dr. H's method of actually admitting that he'd have to consult a colleague because my symptoms are weird and sending me for a test instead of jumping to conclusions, which is what Dr. A did when I told him the story of my headaches in the maternity.
For now, Stéph is hesitant to change primary doctors, but if you ask me, Dr. A won't even notice, especially since we didn't see him for nearly a year and he hardly batted an eye when we saw him this week. I think we'll have to make a decision soon, though, with Fry's monthly appointments, my mystery illness, and especially our peace of mind.
PS: Fry is in perfect health, by the way! At five weeks, he weighed in at 5.3 kilos (11 lbs, 11 oz) and was 57 cm (22.44 inches) long! He's already started to outgrow some of his smaller three month sized clothes, but part of that is because we use cloth diapers, which make his butt huge!
Now, I knew this was true for small villages, but I never imagined that we would have the same problem here in Tiny Town! We are pretty much self-sufficient here, with two groceries, quite a few shops and services, and we find ourselves "having" to go to Troyes less and less for specific things. Don't get me wrong - Tiny Town has just about everything except, you know, entertainment, unless you count the bar down the street, so it's not perfect, but we get along alright. But it turns out that yes, we are having our own doctor crisis here in Tiny Town, which actually affects several communities in the area as well that rely on Tiny Town for their services, too.
When we moved to Tiny Town three years ago, one of us needed to see a doctor, so I did the sensible thing and chose the first name out of the phone book. Generally speaking, we were happy enough with Dr. A that we had him declared as our médecin traitant (pretty much the same as a primary care physician in the States, plus we receive a larger reimbursement when we see our médecin traitant than when we see another doctor). Soon, little things started bothering me: I always felt super rushed during an appointment with him, as if he was in a huge hurry (maybe typical in the States but not really here in France), and his hours left something to be desired. He only takes appointments in the mornings, and in the afternoons it's first come first served. Sounds nice, but we've waited upwards of two hours - not fun when you're sick. This is especially hard when you have an urgent situation and can't get an appointment in the morning. More than once, Stéph has gone to work sick when he should have stayed home because he couldn't stand the idea of sitting in the waiting room for hours on end to get the required doctor's note for his sick day.
During the course of my pregnancy, I never had a need to visit Dr. A, and if Stéph really needed to see a doctor on short notice and couldn't get in to see Dr. A, we called Dr. H, who works in the same building and always seems to have room in his schedule. Dr. H isn't exactly what you would call extroverted, but he seems like a good doctor and we've never had to wait long to see him. We started to wonder if we hadn't chosen the wrong doctor.
I've been wondering if it wouldn't be a bad a idea to change our médecin traitant for a while, but recent events have convinced me that it would be a good idea. First, when I got home from the maternity, I had to have daily shots for three weeks, so we had someone from the local nurse's office come by the house every morning (we paid a slightly higher fee - maybe around 40€ out of pocket in total? - but most of that was reimbursed). When we mentioned that Dr. A was our médecin traitant, one of them told us that in the last year he's cut his office hours in half because of other obligations and he's been trying to hire a doctor to share his office with him, but he can't find one that would be willing to work "in the country." Next, I made an appointment with Dr. A for Fry's first month appointment (since we don't have a pediatrician here in Tiny Town), and the soonest appointment available was two weeks out. Then, we finally had his appointment this week and the doctor seemed so rushed that I felt like we were being pushed out the door. When I called his office an hour later to clarify something he suggested during the appointment, I had barely said my name before he cut me off and said, "Look, can you call me back after 3:00?" and nearly hung up on me.
The final nail in the coffin is that I've had some kind of weird sickness happening this week. I started breaking out in a rash on Monday in the same area as where I had my injections, and they only got worse. Wednesday we decided that I'd better have it looked at, and knowing Dr. A would either be unavailable or I'd be forced to wait a couple of hours, I called Dr. H, who had an opening that very morning. He gave me a prescription and told me that if it wasn't better by Friday, I'd have to give him a call. Well, Friday came and it wasn't better, plus I'd been fighting a fever since the day before. He had me come back in that afternoon, put me back on an antibiotic and sent me off to have a blood test, and then we chatted about random stuff for another five minutes or so. We still don't know what exactly is wrong with me (I'm not going into great detail here in order to keep this already long post from gaining epic proportions), but I like Dr. H's method of actually admitting that he'd have to consult a colleague because my symptoms are weird and sending me for a test instead of jumping to conclusions, which is what Dr. A did when I told him the story of my headaches in the maternity.
For now, Stéph is hesitant to change primary doctors, but if you ask me, Dr. A won't even notice, especially since we didn't see him for nearly a year and he hardly batted an eye when we saw him this week. I think we'll have to make a decision soon, though, with Fry's monthly appointments, my mystery illness, and especially our peace of mind.
PS: Fry is in perfect health, by the way! At five weeks, he weighed in at 5.3 kilos (11 lbs, 11 oz) and was 57 cm (22.44 inches) long! He's already started to outgrow some of his smaller three month sized clothes, but part of that is because we use cloth diapers, which make his butt huge!
Monday, December 08, 2008
And now, a song
The first time I heard this song, it actually made me weepy. Ok, I was really hormonal at the time, as I was about eight months pregnant, but this is the song that I can't wait to dance to around the living room with Fry when he gets a little older. You can check out the lyrics here, but if you don't want to bother with the French, just know that he's basically singing "Let's all dance together and be happy." My kind of song.
Friday, December 05, 2008
time flies when you're in a sleep deprived haze
A month has passed already since Fry was born. A whole stinkin' month! My friend Doc is totally right when she says that time speeds up once they exit the womb. Plus I know he's gotten bigger, I can see it in his clothes and how he fits in his car seat, but he still looks the same to me. His hair is still on the dark side with some reddish-chestnuty highlights, like his father's, and his eyes are still blue-grey, also like his father's. He still strongly favors my side of the family from the nose down. Sometimes he makes a face that so strongly resembles my Dad that even Stéph has noticed it. He's starting to follow us with his eyes and even though his smiles are still involuntary, it's easy to believe that he's smiling just for you.
He would be perfectly angelic if it weren't for the fact that his favorite game every evening is to scream bloody murder ten minutes after you put him down and stop abruptly as soon as you pick him back up. Now, I'm all for cuddle time, but after SIX HOURS the game tends to grate, just a bit. Poor Stéph, Fry is perfectly calm and wonderful all day and it's only when Stéph comes home in the evening that the Screaming Game starts, usually from about 6 pm-ish until midnight-ish. Hopefully this phase will pass soon. The only good thing that's come out of this is that he very nearly slept through the night last night, from midnight until 5 am.
I can say that I totally understand why so many bloggers that are new parents drop off the face of the earth for a while after they bring a baby home. It's bizarre, you figure the baby sleeps most of the time so you'll be able to continue on in some manner as you did before. The problem is that babies suck the life force out of you. I've managed to keep the kitchen clean and laundry going, and that's about it. A lot the time, I find myself just sort of staring into space with no motivation to do anything else. I've started reading again, which is how I stay sane trying to rock Fry to sleep during the Screaming Game. Last night, on the phone with a dear friend, I found the only thing I could talk about was the baby. I've become one of those people.
So that's pretty much my life right now. If you can stand the excitement, please bear with me - I know I'll have some interesting things to blog about (other than "Fry pooped today! Woo!" god help me I will avoid that with every fiber of my being) here soon, really.
He would be perfectly angelic if it weren't for the fact that his favorite game every evening is to scream bloody murder ten minutes after you put him down and stop abruptly as soon as you pick him back up. Now, I'm all for cuddle time, but after SIX HOURS the game tends to grate, just a bit. Poor Stéph, Fry is perfectly calm and wonderful all day and it's only when Stéph comes home in the evening that the Screaming Game starts, usually from about 6 pm-ish until midnight-ish. Hopefully this phase will pass soon. The only good thing that's come out of this is that he very nearly slept through the night last night, from midnight until 5 am.
I can say that I totally understand why so many bloggers that are new parents drop off the face of the earth for a while after they bring a baby home. It's bizarre, you figure the baby sleeps most of the time so you'll be able to continue on in some manner as you did before. The problem is that babies suck the life force out of you. I've managed to keep the kitchen clean and laundry going, and that's about it. A lot the time, I find myself just sort of staring into space with no motivation to do anything else. I've started reading again, which is how I stay sane trying to rock Fry to sleep during the Screaming Game. Last night, on the phone with a dear friend, I found the only thing I could talk about was the baby. I've become one of those people.
So that's pretty much my life right now. If you can stand the excitement, please bear with me - I know I'll have some interesting things to blog about (other than "Fry pooped today! Woo!" god help me I will avoid that with every fiber of my being) here soon, really.
Friday, November 28, 2008
thankful
There were two things I was sure of going into this pregnancy: we were going to use cloth diapers and I was going to nurse my son for at least six months. The cloth diapers have gone off without a hitch, but the nursing has been one hell of a fight.
From the moment Fry was born, things seemed to be against us. Because of his low sugar level, he was given artificial milk within an hour of his birth, and even though I got to nurse him first, things went right downhill from there. I had very little encouragement from the nurses and midwives in the hospital, who told me not to hold out hope when my milk didn't come in on the third day after his birth, or when it did come in the next day but they told me to keep giving him "compliments" of artificial milk, or when they told me to stop altogether when they were afraid I had an infection that could be passed on to him. When I started pumping and dumping, I actually had one night nurse try to console me with, "Don't worry, it will dry up soon," as she obviously thought I was pumping because I didn't want to nurse at all. Then when Fry wouldn't nurse because of the taste of the antibiotic in my milk, they told me he'd probably never take the breast again since I had to stay on the antibiotic for ten days.
I was really lucky to have a midwife here in Tiny Town that was very encouraging and many friends with a lot of nursing experience (and even a couple that are studying to become nursing consultants!) who gave me loads of helpful advice and cheered me on. But this week, I lost the fight. After the nth day of a vicious cycle of nursing for an hour, taking a bottle for an hour, and screaming for an hour (rinse, lather, repeat), I had a long talk with the midwife and Stéph and I finally threw in the towel.
Giving up on breastfeeding was probably the hardest decision I've ever made. I cried as I said the words, but at the same time I felt like a terrible weight had been lifted. I had stressed myself out so much that I was probably projecting that on Fry as well. I know we made the right decision for us, but it still took a couple of days for the feelings of guilt and sadness to pass. And even though it's been a few days, things didn't magically become perfect; Fry is still colicky and our nights are pretty hit and miss right now.
In this holiday season, and this Thanksgiving weekend, we have so much to be thankful for, Stéph and I. I may have had a difficult week after his birth, but our son is in perfect health and is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. We have a roof over our head and food on our table. When put in perspective, breastfeeding seems like such a small thing.
(Thank you all for your lovely comments! I will respond to the questions you've left in my next post. I'd like to wish all my American readers a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend!)
From the moment Fry was born, things seemed to be against us. Because of his low sugar level, he was given artificial milk within an hour of his birth, and even though I got to nurse him first, things went right downhill from there. I had very little encouragement from the nurses and midwives in the hospital, who told me not to hold out hope when my milk didn't come in on the third day after his birth, or when it did come in the next day but they told me to keep giving him "compliments" of artificial milk, or when they told me to stop altogether when they were afraid I had an infection that could be passed on to him. When I started pumping and dumping, I actually had one night nurse try to console me with, "Don't worry, it will dry up soon," as she obviously thought I was pumping because I didn't want to nurse at all. Then when Fry wouldn't nurse because of the taste of the antibiotic in my milk, they told me he'd probably never take the breast again since I had to stay on the antibiotic for ten days.
I was really lucky to have a midwife here in Tiny Town that was very encouraging and many friends with a lot of nursing experience (and even a couple that are studying to become nursing consultants!) who gave me loads of helpful advice and cheered me on. But this week, I lost the fight. After the nth day of a vicious cycle of nursing for an hour, taking a bottle for an hour, and screaming for an hour (rinse, lather, repeat), I had a long talk with the midwife and Stéph and I finally threw in the towel.
Giving up on breastfeeding was probably the hardest decision I've ever made. I cried as I said the words, but at the same time I felt like a terrible weight had been lifted. I had stressed myself out so much that I was probably projecting that on Fry as well. I know we made the right decision for us, but it still took a couple of days for the feelings of guilt and sadness to pass. And even though it's been a few days, things didn't magically become perfect; Fry is still colicky and our nights are pretty hit and miss right now.
In this holiday season, and this Thanksgiving weekend, we have so much to be thankful for, Stéph and I. I may have had a difficult week after his birth, but our son is in perfect health and is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. We have a roof over our head and food on our table. When put in perspective, breastfeeding seems like such a small thing.
(Thank you all for your lovely comments! I will respond to the questions you've left in my next post. I'd like to wish all my American readers a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend!)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
one year (part three)
It's been a while since I had a one year anniversary that didn't involve something sad, but I nearly missed this one because it passed while I was still in the clinic. I'm very happy to report that November 9th marked one year since I smoked my last cigarette. Woohoo!!
Also, I posted a little something special over on my craft blog that you might like. Hope you're all having a good weekend! It's snowing here!
Also, I posted a little something special over on my craft blog that you might like. Hope you're all having a good weekend! It's snowing here!
Friday, November 21, 2008
what happened next
You know, I was completely on fire to tell you the whole story of what happened the week following Fry's birth in complete and gory detail and why we ended up staying nine days in the clinic, but now that I've had some time away from it I can safely say that the fire has dulled down to a dull burn. Plus, I'm really tired and stuff. So here's the Vivi's Digest abridged version*:
Two nights after Fry was born, the day that I was getting up and moving on my own without having to call for help, and coincidentally the day of the US Presidential election, I woke up twice with a massive headache. I didn't think much about it and instead just sat up and watched Fry sleep (which any mother will tell you is better than any other form of media ever invented) (and also I'll have to tell you another time about Elections funnies in the clinic). Over the next two days, the headaches got increasingly worse, and the staff at the clinic were hard pressed to explain them, as they were accompanied by a fever spike. It was originally thought that it was a reaction to the spinal block but that was eventually dismissed. Things really went downhill one afternoon when the headache changed to a throbbing on the right side of my head whenever I went from a sitting to standing position, which was sometimes so strong I nearly fainted.
On Friday, the day after my milk came in, I was told to stop breastfeeding because they were afraid that I had an infection that could be passed to the baby. My milk was late coming in and we were still having to compliment with artificial milk so this was very discouraging for me. On top of everything else, I had to start pumping and dumping. I was put on an antibiotic, and for some reason they didn't have in their records that I'm allergic to penicillin, so we can thank our lucky stars that I didn't have a reaction after I took the first dose (when I was about to take the second dose, I actually read the package and called a nurse right away). Then I started a battery of tests, some of which I can't even explain, but included several blood tests, a urine test, a Doppler test the check the veins in my legs and an ultrasound. I was diagnosed with having had a hemorrhage somewhere around my uterus, which was not so dangerous as to warrant a transfer to the hospital but was likely the cause of most of the problems. Stéph and my MIL decided that I needed to eat more so they started bringing me snacks (I had stashed some cookies in my suitcase which until that time I hadn't touched and they brought me a ton of clementines). Friday night, the pain was so intense that I was put back on an IV and given two rounds of analgesics and an anti-inflammatory.
Saturday I was given a blood transfusion. That was also the day we started noticing a pattern with the headaches - they would arrive at the end of the morning, the end of the afternoon and the very early hours of the morning. Then I realized that they would practically disappear after I ate. The more I ate, the less intense the headaches were. But no matter how often I told this to the nurses or doctors, they said it was a coincidence. I finally got the IV out of my arm on Sunday but still heard no sign about being released. At this point, Fry had had his exit exam but I was still being observed because they couldn't explain the fever spikes.
Everything came to a head on Monday evening. I had been told all day that I could possibly be released Tuesday morning, and out of nowhere a very young midwife came in and gave me paperwork for a CAT scan I would have to do on Wednesday (since Tuesday was a public holiday) and I would be lucky if I were released before Thursday. Well y'all, I am not at all proud to say this, but I basically lost it. I called Stéph crying so hard that I'm sure he thought something was wrong with Fry. I felt so trapped in that room, with so much conflicting information in a culture that does not expect its doctors and nursing staff to explain to their patients what is happening, and I was on the edge of a very serious breakdown. Stéph took the initiative to call the doctor on duty and they finally agreed that if I could get through the night with no fever and without needing medication for a headache, then I could be released the next day. And while the night was not totally headache-free, I did get through the night and was finally released the next day. We still had to go back to Troyes the next day to have the CAT scan of my head, but even after passing one night in my own bed I felt like a new person and it was absolutely no surprise that there were no problems with the scan.
Now, over a week later, the headaches are gone and we are desperately trying to get breastfeeding back on track. I actually had the go-ahead to start breastfeeding again before we left, but the taste of the antibiotic in the milk was too strong for Fry and he wouldn't take it. I finally finished the antibiotics on Sunday and Fry and I visited the midwife here in Tiny Town, who is also a breastfeeding consultant, Tuesday. Right now I'm not producing near enough for his needs and we still have to use artificial milk after nursing but I have the support of some really great breastfeeding friends and I'm using every trick in the book so we'll see what happens.
* Which ended up being hella long anyway, sorry about that!
Two nights after Fry was born, the day that I was getting up and moving on my own without having to call for help, and coincidentally the day of the US Presidential election, I woke up twice with a massive headache. I didn't think much about it and instead just sat up and watched Fry sleep (which any mother will tell you is better than any other form of media ever invented) (and also I'll have to tell you another time about Elections funnies in the clinic). Over the next two days, the headaches got increasingly worse, and the staff at the clinic were hard pressed to explain them, as they were accompanied by a fever spike. It was originally thought that it was a reaction to the spinal block but that was eventually dismissed. Things really went downhill one afternoon when the headache changed to a throbbing on the right side of my head whenever I went from a sitting to standing position, which was sometimes so strong I nearly fainted.
On Friday, the day after my milk came in, I was told to stop breastfeeding because they were afraid that I had an infection that could be passed to the baby. My milk was late coming in and we were still having to compliment with artificial milk so this was very discouraging for me. On top of everything else, I had to start pumping and dumping. I was put on an antibiotic, and for some reason they didn't have in their records that I'm allergic to penicillin, so we can thank our lucky stars that I didn't have a reaction after I took the first dose (when I was about to take the second dose, I actually read the package and called a nurse right away). Then I started a battery of tests, some of which I can't even explain, but included several blood tests, a urine test, a Doppler test the check the veins in my legs and an ultrasound. I was diagnosed with having had a hemorrhage somewhere around my uterus, which was not so dangerous as to warrant a transfer to the hospital but was likely the cause of most of the problems. Stéph and my MIL decided that I needed to eat more so they started bringing me snacks (I had stashed some cookies in my suitcase which until that time I hadn't touched and they brought me a ton of clementines). Friday night, the pain was so intense that I was put back on an IV and given two rounds of analgesics and an anti-inflammatory.
Saturday I was given a blood transfusion. That was also the day we started noticing a pattern with the headaches - they would arrive at the end of the morning, the end of the afternoon and the very early hours of the morning. Then I realized that they would practically disappear after I ate. The more I ate, the less intense the headaches were. But no matter how often I told this to the nurses or doctors, they said it was a coincidence. I finally got the IV out of my arm on Sunday but still heard no sign about being released. At this point, Fry had had his exit exam but I was still being observed because they couldn't explain the fever spikes.
Everything came to a head on Monday evening. I had been told all day that I could possibly be released Tuesday morning, and out of nowhere a very young midwife came in and gave me paperwork for a CAT scan I would have to do on Wednesday (since Tuesday was a public holiday) and I would be lucky if I were released before Thursday. Well y'all, I am not at all proud to say this, but I basically lost it. I called Stéph crying so hard that I'm sure he thought something was wrong with Fry. I felt so trapped in that room, with so much conflicting information in a culture that does not expect its doctors and nursing staff to explain to their patients what is happening, and I was on the edge of a very serious breakdown. Stéph took the initiative to call the doctor on duty and they finally agreed that if I could get through the night with no fever and without needing medication for a headache, then I could be released the next day. And while the night was not totally headache-free, I did get through the night and was finally released the next day. We still had to go back to Troyes the next day to have the CAT scan of my head, but even after passing one night in my own bed I felt like a new person and it was absolutely no surprise that there were no problems with the scan.
Now, over a week later, the headaches are gone and we are desperately trying to get breastfeeding back on track. I actually had the go-ahead to start breastfeeding again before we left, but the taste of the antibiotic in the milk was too strong for Fry and he wouldn't take it. I finally finished the antibiotics on Sunday and Fry and I visited the midwife here in Tiny Town, who is also a breastfeeding consultant, Tuesday. Right now I'm not producing near enough for his needs and we still have to use artificial milk after nursing but I have the support of some really great breastfeeding friends and I'm using every trick in the book so we'll see what happens.
* Which ended up being hella long anyway, sorry about that!
Saturday, November 15, 2008
French Fry's birthday
On November 2, I woke up at 7:20 am with a pretty strong contraction. I almost didn't dare to hope that things were starting when only nine minutes later I had another one. After a trip to the bathroom where I discovered that things were definitely happening down below (is that delicate enough for you?), I had irregular contractions for the next hour so we called the clinic. They recommended I take two Spasfon (a light over the counter medication that stops contractions if they are not related to real labor) and wait another hour. After tracking my irregular contractions for another hour, Stéph and I decided it was time, so we grabbed my suitcases and made our way to Troyes.
After about an hour on the monitor, the verdict still wasn't in. The contractions were still very irregular but the midwives couldn't agree on when real labor would start - one thought it wouldn't be that day unless I had a Cesarean, another was sure labor would start some time that day, but Tiny Town is far enough away that they couldn't decide whether or not to keep me. In the end, the OB/GYN on call made the decision for them. He felt that FF was too big and still way to high for this stage of the pregnancy and he recommended a Cesarean. Stéph and I agreed to it and everything happened very quickly after that.
What follows is a cautionary tale for those that think that Cesarean births are the easy way out and pain free. I'm here to tell you that this was not my first major surgery and I like to think that my tolerance for pain is not that low, but that day I experienced the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. If you're squeamish or don't like scary birth stories please be assured that FF made it through perfectly fine and skip to the end!
I should have known that things wouldn't be going my way when they insisted on inserting the catheter before I'd even been wheeled down to the operating room. Why they do this before the lower half of the body is knocked out cold, I will never understand. But when I say things went fast, I wasn't kidding - by the time Stéph had checked me in (with no waiting, since it was a Sunday!) and grabbed my suitcases, I was being wheeled into an elevator destined to the operating hall. I managed a quick wave and a "Bye!" before I disappeared.
Things went quickly once we arrived. The spinal block was done without incident but it made me extremely nauseous nearly right away. The actual operation happened so fast that one moment I turned my head and suddenly there was a nurse cleaning a baby on a table to my left! So French Fry made his way quietly into the world at 1:18 pm. As soon as I saw his face, I said (in English!) "Oh my god, it's Daddy!" and I burst into tears. When he was all clean and swaddled, I got to hold him for a few minutes before he went upstairs to Papa and the maternity ward while they finished my surgery. (Which is when the subject of the election popped up, it being two days before, and the anesthesiologist tried to argue with me that Sarah Palin was the first woman to run for Vice President, but that's another story.)
Unfortunately, I had a pretty bad afternoon after that. The nausea kept me feeling pretty bad for the following hour, but seeing Stéph's face when we made it back up to the maternity ward made up for it! He had some interesting news to share - the OB/GYN had said after the surgery that we had made the right decision to do the Cesarean that day, but it was my husband who eventually explained why - FF wasn't one week early, he was two weeks late!! If the fact that he had already passed meconium in the womb wasn't enough of a hint, the quality of his skin really drove the point home. Other than that, FF had gorgeous pink skin with no blemishes, a full head of hair the same color as Stéph's and was perfectly healthy, except that his blood sugar was a little low. I nursed him the first time about ten minutes after being transferred to my room so that he could be given a bottle right away to help him. The maternity's policy of always breastfeeding before offering a compliment (for those that wish to breastfeed, obviously) assured me a lot.
Not long after, the pain started. It seems that after the operation I was given a medication that forces the uterus to start contracting much stronger than it would do on its own. The problem is that my spinal block started wearing off and the medication hadn't run its course yet, so the next hour I basically screamed in pain while Stéph and three midwives stood over me trying to figure out what to do. Unfortunately, there was nothing to do but wait for the medicine to run its course. I remember the midwives discretely chatting at the window about the idiots practically running over each other for parking spaces four floors below while I nearly wrenched Stéph's hand off and Stéph cracking jokes (my favorite: Stéph: "You got the second baby out, didn't you?" Midwives: *moment of panic* Me: "I'm going to effing kill you for making me laugh you bastard!" Well, now I think it's funny). Plus they gave me a second catheter before they realized the pain was coming from the contractions, and I received a third one the next morning because I hadn't been able to do anything on my own for the twelve hours following the surgery. But FF! He was a perfect angel!
The next day I was able to get up a little on my own with great difficulty, and things seemed to be getting back on track, until things started going wrong again on Election Night.
Next time: Vivi endures a battery of every sort of exam you can imagine, more holes poked in her extremities than a dartboard, and finally escapes from the clinic after nine long days.
After about an hour on the monitor, the verdict still wasn't in. The contractions were still very irregular but the midwives couldn't agree on when real labor would start - one thought it wouldn't be that day unless I had a Cesarean, another was sure labor would start some time that day, but Tiny Town is far enough away that they couldn't decide whether or not to keep me. In the end, the OB/GYN on call made the decision for them. He felt that FF was too big and still way to high for this stage of the pregnancy and he recommended a Cesarean. Stéph and I agreed to it and everything happened very quickly after that.
What follows is a cautionary tale for those that think that Cesarean births are the easy way out and pain free. I'm here to tell you that this was not my first major surgery and I like to think that my tolerance for pain is not that low, but that day I experienced the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. If you're squeamish or don't like scary birth stories please be assured that FF made it through perfectly fine and skip to the end!
I should have known that things wouldn't be going my way when they insisted on inserting the catheter before I'd even been wheeled down to the operating room. Why they do this before the lower half of the body is knocked out cold, I will never understand. But when I say things went fast, I wasn't kidding - by the time Stéph had checked me in (with no waiting, since it was a Sunday!) and grabbed my suitcases, I was being wheeled into an elevator destined to the operating hall. I managed a quick wave and a "Bye!" before I disappeared.
Things went quickly once we arrived. The spinal block was done without incident but it made me extremely nauseous nearly right away. The actual operation happened so fast that one moment I turned my head and suddenly there was a nurse cleaning a baby on a table to my left! So French Fry made his way quietly into the world at 1:18 pm. As soon as I saw his face, I said (in English!) "Oh my god, it's Daddy!" and I burst into tears. When he was all clean and swaddled, I got to hold him for a few minutes before he went upstairs to Papa and the maternity ward while they finished my surgery. (Which is when the subject of the election popped up, it being two days before, and the anesthesiologist tried to argue with me that Sarah Palin was the first woman to run for Vice President, but that's another story.)
Unfortunately, I had a pretty bad afternoon after that. The nausea kept me feeling pretty bad for the following hour, but seeing Stéph's face when we made it back up to the maternity ward made up for it! He had some interesting news to share - the OB/GYN had said after the surgery that we had made the right decision to do the Cesarean that day, but it was my husband who eventually explained why - FF wasn't one week early, he was two weeks late!! If the fact that he had already passed meconium in the womb wasn't enough of a hint, the quality of his skin really drove the point home. Other than that, FF had gorgeous pink skin with no blemishes, a full head of hair the same color as Stéph's and was perfectly healthy, except that his blood sugar was a little low. I nursed him the first time about ten minutes after being transferred to my room so that he could be given a bottle right away to help him. The maternity's policy of always breastfeeding before offering a compliment (for those that wish to breastfeed, obviously) assured me a lot.
Not long after, the pain started. It seems that after the operation I was given a medication that forces the uterus to start contracting much stronger than it would do on its own. The problem is that my spinal block started wearing off and the medication hadn't run its course yet, so the next hour I basically screamed in pain while Stéph and three midwives stood over me trying to figure out what to do. Unfortunately, there was nothing to do but wait for the medicine to run its course. I remember the midwives discretely chatting at the window about the idiots practically running over each other for parking spaces four floors below while I nearly wrenched Stéph's hand off and Stéph cracking jokes (my favorite: Stéph: "You got the second baby out, didn't you?" Midwives: *moment of panic* Me: "I'm going to effing kill you for making me laugh you bastard!" Well, now I think it's funny). Plus they gave me a second catheter before they realized the pain was coming from the contractions, and I received a third one the next morning because I hadn't been able to do anything on my own for the twelve hours following the surgery. But FF! He was a perfect angel!
The next day I was able to get up a little on my own with great difficulty, and things seemed to be getting back on track, until things started going wrong again on Election Night.
Next time: Vivi endures a battery of every sort of exam you can imagine, more holes poked in her extremities than a dartboard, and finally escapes from the clinic after nine long days.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
DING! Fry's done
Just a quick note to say thank you all so much for your lovely comments welcoming French Fry into the world! Not only was Fry "done," but he was rather crispy around the edges and was further along than we expected. He is obviously the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen, even if he does draw a larger portion of his looks from Mommy. He is in perfect health and already letting us sleep through most of the night with only one wake up call. During our stay in the clinic we were often complimented on how sage (literally "wise;" used in French to described children that are well behaved) Fry was and he has been since we came home on Tuesday.
Unfortunately, Fry's birth was not especially easy on my body and I'm still suffering a little bit, but am getting better. Nothing permanent or alarming, thank goodness, but the nine days in the clinic that started out so well ended up being a terrible nightmare for me. Please bear with me, because I do want to write out the whole story, but right now I'm not able to sit at the computer for too long and of course I'm trying to catch up on everything at home as well as take care of our sweet boy. But I will do it, and soon! Luckily, Stéph was able to take some of his paternity leave this week, so he is here with me and has been an enormous help - especially making sure I get enough rest, as I do not make the best patient and would otherwise stay on my feet all day long!
A bientôt, more to come soon!
Unfortunately, Fry's birth was not especially easy on my body and I'm still suffering a little bit, but am getting better. Nothing permanent or alarming, thank goodness, but the nine days in the clinic that started out so well ended up being a terrible nightmare for me. Please bear with me, because I do want to write out the whole story, but right now I'm not able to sit at the computer for too long and of course I'm trying to catch up on everything at home as well as take care of our sweet boy. But I will do it, and soon! Luckily, Stéph was able to take some of his paternity leave this week, so he is here with me and has been an enormous help - especially making sure I get enough rest, as I do not make the best patient and would otherwise stay on my feet all day long!
A bientôt, more to come soon!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
A teeny update
Hey everyone! :)
Thanks to everyone who left a note of well-wishing for Vivi and family! I had a chance to talk to her Monday at lunchtime (evening for her), and everyone's still doing well. French Fry was in great voice, and Big Sis had a bit more info to share. The exact time of FF's birth: 1:18 p.m. And if all goes well, they should be home on Saturday.
That's all I'll say for now. If I hear anything else from the happy family that needs an update, I'll be sure to let you know.
Cheers!
Thanks to everyone who left a note of well-wishing for Vivi and family! I had a chance to talk to her Monday at lunchtime (evening for her), and everyone's still doing well. French Fry was in great voice, and Big Sis had a bit more info to share. The exact time of FF's birth: 1:18 p.m. And if all goes well, they should be home on Saturday.
That's all I'll say for now. If I hear anything else from the happy family that needs an update, I'll be sure to let you know.
Cheers!
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Arrivée
Greetings!
French Fry was born today about 1 p.m. CET! A very happy brother-in-law called me today around 12:30 p.m. here in the east when he came home from the clinic to start making phone calls. He was 3 kilos, 550 grams (about 7 pounds, 13 ounces for us U.S. types!).
More info to come ... all is well! :)
French Fry was born today about 1 p.m. CET! A very happy brother-in-law called me today around 12:30 p.m. here in the east when he came home from the clinic to start making phone calls. He was 3 kilos, 550 grams (about 7 pounds, 13 ounces for us U.S. types!).
More info to come ... all is well! :)
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