*Poke, poke* Ex Machina

"Hey, James!" Poke, poke.  "Wake up!"

Theresa treats James like a toy.  If she's there, then he should be ready to play.  Celina tried to stop her, but she is relentless.

Was so relieved that when he woke up he wasn't screaming.

Theresa says she still feels a bit responsible / guilty about James coming early (she'd heard the due date and said it would be better if he came before Mar 1, then he could go to school earlier and be done faster...)  I told her it's alright -- see, James is fine now... (not that it's been a cake walk... and I'm not sure I'd want him to start earlier etc. )

She looks at me like I'm crazy... or more likely, "he's doing fine, but look at you!"  I know, I know, even if I feel better, I don't look it.


Anyway, it was a tiring day.  James wanted to eat every 2 hours so little else was done, but I managed at least to get his medicine down.  I think he's better for it.  (Much better than yesterday's screaming, and spit up right after the meds -- I was too worried about overdosing to give him more.)

Paul and my attempted a date afternoon / something normal (like before) and it sort of worked.  We watched Ex Machina through the EPL portal and were only interrupted a few times by you-know-who.  I know it annoys Paul a lot to be interrupted, but at least the interruptions were brief this time and we finished the movie!  (We both liked it though we had different interpretations about the meaning of the ending.)

(Left: "Bunny, protect me!")

When you see this face (below) (and not just the crying /screaming version) it certainly doesn't seem quite so bad.

Back to the Box

My questionnaire numbers weren't great, but I do feel I'm doing better with Jackie here. 

Jolanta wasn't exactly worried at this "Baby Box" checkup, but did feel I needed to do more - go out with James, join a new moms' and babies group, visit the Centre for the free play times... To do more than just cleaning and go beyond doctor's offices.  Just to make sure James isn't like the cat who's never been outside (shrinking in fear, glued still).  To have (waking!) time where it's just the two of us.  And of course, to enjoy it, to enjoy him...

I told her how with Jackie here I already didn't feel quite as fenced in and I can enjoy some things more (though more often than not, I'm just down)... but not sure what it'll be like when she's gone and my Mom is back at the door...

She offered this script: "Mommy, I know you want to help, but I need to prove to others that I can take care of him."  That I can even use her name (i.e. "...I need to prove to Jolanta...") even though Jolanta does believe I'd do fine. 

Erica (who's already been a great help) said she'll keep me accountable (and will report to Jolanta if I slide back :P)

Final words / reminders: The house doesn't need to be cleaned.  James won't remember how clean or messy the house was.  He will remember though, that you played with him, cuddled him, that you were happy. 

I'm not sure how much of the script I'll actually be able to get out ("Mommy" is certainly too weird).  But I do see what she means about spending actual fun time with James...

But there's just so much - between the boxes from the room, from work -- to "process".  I promise though, after getting some stuff out to Bissell Centre and to Fort Mac, I will do more.  For now, though, I'm going to take advantage of Jackie being here.  She'll do some of the quality time heavy lifting with James.  And I'll be refreshed / revived catching moments of Paul and her playing with James. 

Life and Taxes

I cooked a meal!  The experience wasn't quite the picture in my head, but it almost felt normal.  And there were only a handful of interruptions...

Paul was so good: He took care of James during cooking and the taxes. (James's bouncy seat is currently the tax filing basket.  Our financial lives are more complicated by the year... and the part with James hasn't even kicked in yet.)  But it wasn't without its toll:

In other news:

• Paul's photo made it to Flickr Explore!  It's "Flickr's way of showcasing the most interesting photos within a given point in time -- usually over a 24 hour period."
• Paul's last concert with CSO is now done.  
• I had another check up with Dr. Robinson.  I tried to explain that things were better, but she still seemed concerned about me.  At least I took her advice to see a RMHC.
• Visited an RMHC (Reproductive Mental Health Counsellor) - spent most of the hour trying to explain how really I was already doing much better, but also the way my Mom bothered me, was normal Chinese Mom stuff.  Yes, boundaries are important, but there was no way I was not opening the door if she's standing there on my doorstep (eventhough it's unannounced or specifically told not to).  (It would be the "English/Western Equivalent" of slamming the door in her face.)
• Opened Cynthia's baby shower gift - it had some of the cutest wrapping paper (below).

_______ when he sleeps...

"Sleep when he sleeps..." seems to be the "newborn golden rule".  But how do people do it?

I've been thinking about it for a while.

If I slept when he slept, when would there be a chance to go to the washroom, cook, etc.?

I know I've been stretching it trying to clean, tidy up, see people, answer emails in his sleeping (my waking hours) and I feel rough.  More rough than I did a couple weeks ago.  I must have used up all my reserves... and there's not much to look forward to at the moment (this weekend will be me doing taxes).

And what Mom said "What would you eat if I wasn't here?"  She thinks he's difficult right now (I actually think we're in a good stretch).  Anyway, I try to reassure her (and myself ): Paul would cook and I would probably cook too, but in big batches.  Oh, and simple one pot meals (nothing like these feasts and complicated soups they've been making me).  And yes, the microwave!  Fresh cooking or recooking items every meal takes a long time.  I also don't say, but know I'd probably cook while wearing him if he doesn't want to settle...

I wonder too if I'd sleep more or less if she's not here.  Less available time (she's not here to hold / soothe him), but fewer expectations too (less cleaning). 

Hacking Through It

Have I gone yet a whole week without speaking to Health Link or one of the clinic nurses?

Last night: James's cry went hoarse and I got scared.  Is it because it was just too hot in the house these past few days?  Up to 24 degrees in the late afternoon and evening, still Mom had him wrapped up... and I had him in the k-tan which is also against my body.  Checked temperature - o.k.

Tonight: The hoarse cry actually sounded a little better.  Crying at full volume and with clarity never sounded so good (i.e. it was at least normal).  But while I could settle him down last night by holding and rocking him, it didn't work much today.

Mom would take over and walk around with him.  And then I would take a turn.  It wasn't constant crying, but again, when we put him down thinking he was a sleep, he would startle awake and wail.  And then cry and cry...

Mom was rattled, and I was getting there too.  I thought he was getting better, but amount of crying seems worse.  The a rash on his left cheek is still there, and now there's a patch on the back of his neck too.  He would snort (stuffed up nose) and choke on his own cries.

I called Health Link.  A 20-minute assessment later, I was told it's probably minor congestion, and to try saline drops and a humidifier.  However, if he didn't seem better and his stool is still green and mucusy we should follow up with a doctor.  But his follow up appointment is next week and we already sort of know about his stools.  It's dairy and soy... right?  I hope it's not anything worse.

Whereas before he slept too much (four hour stretches "wake up little one, you need to eat.") now it seems he can't sleep for more than an hour before becoming uncomfortable.

Paul comes home during one of these quiet hours.  He takes over while I get some sleep.  It's hard: I can hear James crying at one point.

But, when I changed his diaper, he seemed to be a happier version of himself (not crying -- what the heck is normal any more?!)  I don't even begrudge him for peeing all over himself.

We then have some play time, the three of us.  Fingers crossed he is on the recovery.

(How has it been two weeks since the pediatric appt?  Feels much longer ago.  How is it been I've been home for almost two months?  Feels so much less.)

Adventure: An Outdoor Jaunt

Don't tell anyone: I left the house with James on my own! A historic event!

All wrapped up in the K'Tan carrier, James probably didn't even noticed how beautiful the weather is - but I did.  Spring must surely be here.  I exam the front yard: The tulips looked even better up close, and 2 out of 3 haksap / honeyberry bushes have come back for sure (the other, maybe).

My newborn foal legs - all unbalanced again with James in my front took us to  Mandolin Books & Coffee without incident.  We picked up a birthday gift, and turned back -- bumping into Paul!  A nice surprise.  We held hands on the short walk -- and it triggered a image/memory in my head (something I'd imagined being a parent would be like, before James came).

Anyway, I was exhilarated.  (Which probably means I do have a problem...)

James seemed pretty happy too.

What to Expect the First Year

"Today's mother-to-be is likely to be many years out of school and into an independent, self-centered lifestyle -- one that may include... late nights of dancing followed by long and leisurely mornings in bed..." 

I really should have started reading What to Expect the First Year earlier.  But What to Expect When You're Expecting annoyed me, and our "first year" caught me by surprise.  Too bad, because "Coping with Motherhood" and "A Changing Lifestyle"... indeed. 

Night Feeds Soundtrack (3)

"Look at this stuff

Isn't it neat?

Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?

Wouldn't you think I'm the girl

The girl who has everything?

Look at this trove

Treasures untold

How many wonders can one cavern hold?

Looking around here you think

Sure, she's got everything

I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty

I've got whozits and whatzits galore

You want thingamabobs?

I've got twenty!

But who cares?

No big deal

I want more

I wanna be where the people are

I wanna see, wanna see them dancin'

Walking around on those - what do you call 'em?

Oh - feet!

Flippin' your fins, you don't get too far

Legs are required for jumping, dancing

Strolling along down a - what's that word again?

Street

Up where they walk, up where they run

Up where they stay all day in the sun

Wanderin' free - wish I could be

Part of that world"

- "Part of Your World" from Disney's "The Little Mermaid"

"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere
I want it more than I can tell
And for once it would be grand to have someone understand 
I want so much more than what they've got planned

- "Belle (Reprise)" from Disney's "Beauty and the Beast"

Night Feeds Soundtrack (2)

It begins to tell 'round midnight, midnight
I do pretty well till after sundown
Suppertime I'm feelin' sad
But it really gets bad 'round midnight

Ella Fitzgerald's Round Midnight 

Ergonomic Baby Care and Summer Out, Winter In

My hands hurt.  My body hurts.  I feel cold.

First two make sense: James is a little heavier than before, and lugging him around, plus bad nursing posture isn't helping.  (Though, Charlotte says he's light -- it's all relative).  So, to the internet!

- WebMD's "Correct Posture for Holding and Picking Up Babies" video has at least one tip I think will help (move James closer before picking him).
- Baby Products Mom (though with a scary name) also has some great ideas for setting up the nursery in an ergonomic way "Tips to Make Parenting Easier…On You"

The third, however, is strange -- outside there is record warm weather (+18 as the high), and the heat in the house is still turned up (originally for James, but it seems I need it too).  I'm still wearing thick socks and a hoodie.  Can not enough sleep be causing this?

Aunties C & C and a Pattern?

Charlotte and Catherine came for a visit today!

Catherine is (another) natural -- she knew what to do with James and was happy to do it.  I had to ask: Did she play with dolls?  The answer was yes.  She even had that doll I remember from television, the one that "drinks" from the bottle and its nappy gets wet.  I wonder if that's part of my problem (I didn't play with dolls, I'm kind of scared of them -- though I might be mixing up the cause with the effect).



















Haven't seen Charlotte in a while, so we needed updates: 1. She's half contemplating becoming a ninja (they're taking applications... and Mike would love to too...)  2. They're looking for a new car.    

Charlotte wasn't jumping to hold James (she's got 3 of her own after all), and when she did she said he was light :)  I appreciated how candid she was about post-partum depression.  And she's had near-death birthing complications...  I asked and she told me about getting to the point of not caring about all the judgement (I hope I can get there).

She also brought me a BabyBjorn, an adjustable, ergonomic carrier.  It's so cool!  And Charlotte says Lucas (and Mike) loved it.  But James isn't big enough for it yet (min 8 lbs).

I've also considered making a "Moby" or monkey sling... but that would require time and energy.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I think I see a pattern now with James: there's a good day, then a bad day... and then repeat.

Or maybe I'm the one who has a good day and then my hopes get up too high.

(Below: Paul and an uncertain James / Further below: James, certainly crying)

Was a little scared when the area around the incision starting hurting a few days ago.  Maybe just cramps?  I'm trying not to think of Angela's story about how the stitches inside can tear.  It's not red and puffy like other signs of infection... just need to rest and keep an eye on it I guess.

Where is the love?

I didn't mind confessing to Beth.  Maybe it's because she knows so many other moms and they've been through this.  Or maybe because she'd already had most of it figured out from her great questions.

There was no judgement, just a funny and reassuring anecdote of another friend who for days after giving birth hated her husband, was angry at the world and her baby... and then "snap", completely forgetting those days existed.  She was doting and happy and fine.

I'm stilling waiting for that happy place.  I feel dull and drained.  I look at James and am confused sometimes, "Who is this baby?"

I know with a C- section (and no labour), I didn't have the same flood of hormones as with a vaginal birth.  Intellectually I know (suspect) this is part of the problem.  It's also one reason why I'm insisting on breastfeeding.

Olivia had told me how she first saw her daughter: something small and helpless that needed her care, but no different from another baby.  Once she started breastfeeding though, that's when she felt it -- waves of love.  She was hers.

I'd been flippant at the time, "Oh, that's just oxytocin being released...", as if knowing (some of) the biology and chemistry of it made it simple.  But of course, it only seems simple and effortless when it works.

It sounded stupid to say out loud: I didn't realise how physical it (being a mom) would be.  I'd thought all the dramatic changes to my body happened during the pregnancy and afterward would just be "returning to normal".  But instead, there's a completely new normal I'm supposed to accept.  That'll teach me for not reading ahead in all those health books.

Mo' Milk Problems

I've joked to Erica that it's taking a village to breastfeed a baby (based on all the help from all the nurses).  Two weeks later and it only seems more true.  Mom calls China almost daily and has more tips from my aunts about what I should do (re: recovering, eating... etc.)  She props us up on pillows to get into breastfeeding positions. She and Dad try to make me get more sleep and force feed me nutritious foods... But they also tell (/yell at) me to stop breastfeeding.

"Look at how sickly you are, there's no way your milk is good."
"He's spending more energy trying to eat than he's actually getting."
"Your milk is like water."
"It's not gold, just put more in the bottle and throw out what he doesn't finish."
"There's so little there, just make him some formula."
"Don't be so cheap!  Use formula, it's better."

When I face them, I am hard-faced and stubborn, citing how breast milk is better and he's fine with the amounts I'm producing and that I will produce more when he feeds more.  When they're gone, I start to doubt myself.  Am I being irrational?

Paul questions me too.  He wonders if my motivations make sense.  How good is it for James if his mom isn't getting any sleep?  How good is it for him if he's getting frustrated and worked up because he can't get enough milk?  He reminds me that I have to top up anyway, so why not just pump and bottle feed?

"Because I want to," doesn't seem like a good enough answer.  I cite how feeding from the breast is better health-wise for both me and James* (e.g. right antibodies produced, my reduced health risks) and that pumping and prepping takes a lot of time too.   But, mostly, because I want to.  It makes me feel like I'm actually doing something right... but what if I'm wrong?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* Admittedly, these are pro-breastfeeding sites: 

- International Breastfeeding Journal "Benefits and challenges of transitioning preterm infants to at-breast feedings", summarised in Table 2

- Native Mothering "Are There Differences Between Breastfeeding Directly and Bottle-feeding Expressed Milk?"

Sitting the Month

It's also known as "The Golden Month".  When Esther and our pre-natal teacher mentioned it (on different occasions), I thought I knew what it involved (mostly not leaving the house with the baby and eating that ginger-vinegar, 薑醋, dish).  But wow, I'd only known a scratch of it.  Now, in trying to explain it to some friends, I've searched online and learned more:

1. I'm not supposed to leave the house at all
2. Brushing of teeth is also banned
3. No spicy or highly intensely flavoured foods (and definitely no cold foods)

4. No digital devices.
5. A lot more... (see 10 Facts about China’s “Sitting the Month” Postnatal Tradition)

Really wish I knew it before hand and been more prepared.  Maybe Mom and I would be fighting less.  Did she think I knew?  Or did she know I wouldn't be happy about it, so decided not to elaborate...

Apparently Kate Middleton sparked discussion in the online Chinese community.  Someone even suggesting Chinese women and western women might actually have different physiology (I can kind of see that... of course, it's a really broad brush.)

Above were some of the more sensational and strange bits, but there are some others that do make sense (such as no heavy lifting).  CNN's article "No showers or going outdoors: Why the Chinese put mothers into 'confinement'" also cites some Chinese Medicine doctors have updated their recommendations, just as other modernisations are taking place (e.g. state-of-the-art luxury maternity centres).

Acubalance's "Preparing for Postpartum also manages to make a part of it (a lighter practice) sound reasonable: "Have anyone and everyone else do the house chores. Let your family and friends do your dishes, cook your food, clean your house, do your laundry and walk your dog. This is not being selfish; you are sustaining a new little human being who depends on you solely (for now, your partner will get their turn soon enough) as well as recovering from the biggest event of your life. Even if you are feeling great, amazing, full of energy!, which many women feel in that first week, fight the urge to do too much. You will naturally have a hormone crash on day 5-7, which will be 100% worse if you’ve pushed too hard while on your post birth high."

I guess I should give Mom some credit for relaxing the rules (I really don't think I could do it fully), though it could be she doesn't know them all either.  It also seems pointless to be using up all my energy to fight it, but I do wish I could pick and choose like other modern Chinese women.  Again, we're a little stuck in the past.  Only 14 more days to go.  I guess I should try to enjoy parts of it if I can.  

Hair today...

I washed my hair this morning.  This shouldn't be a big deal, but it was.  It was daring because:

1. I'm not supposed to wash my hair before a month has passed (Chinese Tradition / Medicine)
2. It might all fall out.

It's been well over 2 weeks since my last wash and my scalp was incredible itchy.  Paul said I didn't smell bad, but I know he was just being nice.  I felt gross.

But, neither reason for not washing or waiting so long is quite as crazy as it might seem.  I'm feeling cold and not feeling well and maybe between washing hair and going out I did indeed "catch a chill".  But the hair falling out: it's the flip side of longer, fuller hair during pregnancy.*  I was scared it would come out in clumps.  That, like in a horror movie, I would run my fingers through my hair and handfuls would come loose.  *Shiver*  But it turned out o.k. (this time)

Clean hair though does really feel nice...

* Because of the pregnancy hormones, hairs do not complete their full life cycle, and do not fall out -- I certainly noticed it for me.

Outside! Free... Fear.

I'm so not supposed to be outside.  (That's likely part of the thrill.)

But, I justify my outing: I need to get some to get some things printed for work - there's still so much paperwork to be done.  The truth is though, I don't like being cooped inside.

I saw the strawberries peeking out of the half-melted snow -- a sign of almost spring?  It makes it hopeful.

But, I can also feel my body aches a bit more.  My posture has changed and standing up straight, walking... everything is a little harder.

I felt a chill with the wind - such a small breeze and I'm shivering.  I hate feeling this weak and I start worrying, maybe my body isn't ready for this.

Back at home, I show Paul my photos from the week.  He laughs: "Why are there all these birds in between photos of James?"

It's what I see!*

He thinks I should leave them in rather than split them off into a different folder: "When we look back on the collection, he'll wonder why the heck there were so many of the same birds."

(They're not actually all the same, see, a nuthatch, a woodpecker...)

It's good to laugh.  It warms me up a bit.

I also eat the "Ginger Vinegar" (薑醋) Mom's made me.  It's a traditional dish for new moms to help them heal their bodies.  Often made in large batches so it can also be shared with friends and families to celebrate the new baby (after the first month).  Aside from the ginger and (sweet dark) vinegar, it's made with pork hock, hard boiled eggs, and sugar.

I really don't like the sweet and sour taste (I add rice to try and dampen it), but maybe it will help make me feel better.

* And, it's my link to the outside. (And, because I'm a character in a book, it's also reveals my inner state.)

More sad thoughts...

This little guy will one day be 6 feet tall* and he'll break my heart. And I will be old by then. So old.

* Though, it won't be easy since he's so small now.

I watch him eat, thinking "You're sucking me dry."  Am I disappearing?  Not like Amanda Palmer the "fuck it all" attitude, breastfeeding in public... so strong.  Maybe I will disappear.

Not working, Doubt, and The Routine

I feel betrayed by my body.  I'm doing all things that I think are right*, but still not getting great results... just like how James wasn't growing enough inside.

* Except resting...

James the Mouth

I'm breast feeding and pumping, but I can't get ahead.  Every drop counts.  And it seems like he's actually expending more calories while breast feeding than he's actually getting: he's still so hungry afterwards, sometimes I end up topping him up with the same amount of EBM (Expressed Breast Milk) as if he didn't feed at all.  When he falls asleep, it seems out of exhaustion rather than being satisfied.

What? Me?

I keep disagreeing with Mom when she brings it up, but of course the doubt still lingers: Is my milk no good?  Am I not eating enough? I'm trying to fit in another meal even though I'm not hungry.

Nuthatch

This is how the day / night goes:
1) Breastfeed, 45 minutes
2) Top up feed of EBM, 15-20 minutes
3) Diaper change (and set to bed), 15 - 20 minutes
4) Pump for EBM (setup and cleanup), 30 - 40 minutes
5) Self care (eat, sleep, to do list), 30-60 minutes
6) Repeat

Sleepy smirk.

Invasion || Intervention

"Why are you here?  What is that?  What are you doing?" 

Mom and Dad were at the door.  We'd agreed Monday, Wednesday, Friday - it's Tuesday.  My protests were completely ignored, they came in with cleaning supplies and set straight for our bedrooms.

I didn't want them to touch anything.  But box by box, my Dad emptied out my office, piling it out on in the hallway.  Mom was inside the room throwing things into boxes.  I was losing it.

"Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!"
"You're living in squalor."
"Even if you think it's all garbage, it's my garbage!
"You can't have a baby sleeping in here!"

I was exhausted. I gave up.

They continued their efforts. I could hear Dad asking Mom why they were doing this, it was upsetting me so much. Mom's response was that it was all just wrong, it needed to be put right, the baby would get sick living in this dirty house...

They found my vacuum and asked where the big one was. That's the only one I have. You don't even have the right tools - how are we supposed to vacuum using this?! Don't then -- I didn't ask you to!

They did it anyway, making passes over the carpet 15 cm at a time, all the while grumbling. Once they were done that I told them they couldn't leave the boxes out here, everything needed to go back in. "That would just would just make everything dirty again." I said if they didn't, I would later. And, probably scared that I would pop my stitches, they put everything back in.

I wish I could say I did more to assert myself. But instead, when Mom cooked and put food in front of me, I ate it. I was seething and didn't say a word, but I ate.

"Why are you treating me like your enemy?"
"Because you don't respect me, you don't listen to me..."
"Am I just supposed to let you live like this?!"

I told her I had nothing else to say. But I kept eating. And I kept thinking. Angry as I was, I think I understood what she was doing. To her, I was a basket case, unstable, living in a horrible / unacceptable way, heading for ruin... it was just wrong and I needed this intervention, I needed to be stopped, helped, fixed, put right. My responses were proof to her I was not in the right mind.

I wondered then if it was true. Am I just like the drug addict / alcoholic living in denial, thinking I am fine?

Early Days at Home (Part 1)

Of course, I wanted to be happy at home and "with it", but after a night of waking up to the alarm, trying to feed and settle James down without waking Paul, I wasn't really.  One consolation: James seemed fine in the baby box.

When I thought I maybe had a chance for a 30 minute nap before my parents came... the phone rang.  Dang!  But, right! The community nurse -- the prenatal class teacher said one would visit to check on my stitches and to see how the baby was doing.  I'd forgotten... and also didn't expect one since, with my long stay, my stitches were already out.

Anyway, the call was a good thing: I was feeling the familiar too-full-ache-in-the-chest that would become painful lumps if I didn't find a breast pump.  The nurse gave me a few rental location phone numbers (a head start on my search!), and made an appointment to visit on the weekend.

And then things started moving too fast: Mom and Dad arrived.  They sprang through the door into action unloading groceries and blankets, rearranging the baby box to face a good feng shui direction...

Dad left not long after, but Mom continued: she wanted to cook for me (nice), but didn't know how to use the gas stove or our water filtration system... and even before that she needed more counter and sink space, so the dishes needed to be done and cleared away...

She was annoyed that I was on the computer and phone -- not helping her or resting.  I told her how I needed to track down a breast pump and arrange a ride to pick it up (which was getting harder by the minute as the community nurse's leads ran dry). She countered I shouldn't be breastfeeding anyway (that I was just being cheap not using formula and that I was so sickly my milk wouldn't be any good...).

In between all this, the alarm would ring and we would dash to feed and change James... Any expertise I had while at the hospital no longer counted and I was again doing it all wrong.

We eventually had lunch and I found a pump (Prabhdeep and Erica drove me to pick it up).  

Paul was surprised, returning from work, that she was still here... I'd thought she'd be gone too.  I'd kept repeating: what is the most important thing, because you can't do it all.  But she insisted on one more before leaving: giving James a bath made from boiled pomelo rinds. 

The pale brown water smelled citrusy and bitter -- not what most people would think as cleansing. But after such a long hospital stay, she was worried about the "dirty things" that clung to us.  I'm not immune to superstition and it really weighed on her mind, so I let her do it... And, instead of pouring out the portion she set aside for me, I used it.    

When she left, I felt myself relax.  I told Paul about the day, glad to be able to find a sympathetic ear.

Her constant criticism (from our bad housekeeping to dishes being too heavy to our cupboards being too high) was an annoying buzz that clouded what she had wanted to say: she had good intentions, she was trying to help.

But, it was frustrating because despite all the things Paul had done to help prepare for James -- there was so much more to do... I think I need her...

* A little bit of joy grabbed during the day: watching birds come to the bird feeder.