Merry Christmas

It's Christmas...! Of course I have no idea what Christmas is, but I sense that it's something very special. My parents have been all busy buying things, making sweets, preparing a menu and putting beautiful lights in our house. They didn't make the traditional presepe like many italians do for christmas, but my dad says that we have our own little presepe, where he plays the donkey, the bull and Jospeh, my mum is Mary and he says that even I have my part in the scene.
Or maybe the decoration of the house and all this planning is because my arrival is to happen in only few days from now! It's not exactly what I had planned, but since I insist on staying head-up my parents tell me it's the only solution. Actually they made a last attempt to get me to turn last week. My mum announced it to me last tuesday, gave me a last chance to turn by myself or else she would have to use force. I had no intention to turn, so that night I just slept as normal, kicked her uterus a lot and did the amniotic rhumba as never before. Then next morning my mum skipped breakfast and went straight to the hospital with my dad. First I thought that it was this not-eating thing that was supposed to get me to turn, for the hours passed by and nothing else happened. But she could just as well have fasted at home, so there had to be another reason. My mum gets quite irritated when she doesn't eat for a long time, and I could feel that she was not very calm that morning. Was that how she was going to get me to turn? But then she started to use the relaxing exercises that she had learnt in the prenatal class, and that improved her state of mind a lot. Finally around 3 o'clock in the afternoon the moment that my mum had been waiting for arrived (it appeared that there had been several emergencies at the hospital that delayed everything for many hours). At that moment my mum was actually hungry like a wolf and her mouth was drier than the desert of Sahara, but she was ready for whatever was to come. She entered the examination room and a doctor examined the way I am lying with an ultrasound and saw that I was still in the divers position (a complete breech)...he sighed! Then he estimated my size and said that I was about 2850 g....and he gave another sigh, said that I was a bit big. Then he measured the liquid around me and a third sigh could be heard..he said that the amount of it wouldnt help! But early in the morning the liquid had been plenty when they did the ultrasound! Maybe they should have let my mum drink something during the day...if it doesn't rain the lake will become dry! Anyway, after this examination, the doctor started to push and squeeze my mum's belly with great force. First he pushed my bottom, then he made sure to know where my head was (using the ultrasound) and started trying to push the head first to one side and when he didn't manage, he tried to push it to the other side, but there is more resistence in me than one would expect of a small boy, so he got nowhere with all this pushing. In the end the doctor was so tired that he had to make a break before continuing. To make a long story short, the doctor made several attempts to get me to turn, but I didn't move. There seems to be some kind of resistency....! So now my parents are planning something called a cesarean section to pull me out from my comfortable nest. My mum is not happy about it, she would have preferred a natural birth, but she has also started to accept the fact that I'm not turning and that modern doctors are no longer skilled in delivering breech babies and therefore a cesarean has to be planned, so she has had to surrender. Now my parents are passing the days in a sort of an emotional limbo. On one side they are extremely happy that I will soon be there with them, and on the other side the imminentness of the event causes them to think what it will be like when I'm there and if they will handle the new role. They think about whether I'm ok and if the cesarean will go ok and there are millions of other related thoughts that fly around in their heads. It seems also strange to them to know that I will be born on a certain day, rather than them having to wait for the signs of my arrival before going to the hospital. Anyway, this will probably be my last blog as a belly-dweller...but I hope that I will soon be back as a newborn boy...therefore I'll use this opportunity to send you christmas-greetings...

Merry Christmas to all of you, and a Happy New Year.

Prova generale

Last night my parents had a little trial for day X -with only three weeks to the due date I guess it was a wise thing to do. The results of the trial was that my dad passed with honours, but my panettone-mum (see picture) has to refine her part a bit before the big moment!
Well, last night my mum got a shooting pain in the fundus of the uterus (or somewhere close to it at least). She knew it wasn't a contraction, for they don't create constant pain, but not knowing what it was that caused the pain, and not being able to do simple things such as lie on the side, stand up from the bed, close the door of the car or even wipe herself at the toilet (!), she and my dad decided it would be right to have someone take a look. So they went to the gynecology & obstetrics-ER at the hospital -which is basically where I'm going to be born quite soon. The midwifes monitored me with a cardiotocograph and found out that I'm very well, then they did an ultrasound and saw that all was ok and so my mum was sent home with the words that whatever it was that caused the pain it didn't seem to have any negative effects on the pregnancy. Actually the midwife that monitored me thought that my heartbeat could be heard a bit low in the abdomen for a podalic baby, so when it came to the ultrasound part she, the other 2 midwives present and my dad betted on whether I was still podalic (the theory being that the pain that my mum was experiencing might be related to the fact that I had finally turned). But I'm more stubborn than that, and of course I was still podalic!
My mum thinks that the pain might be related with the fact that at the prenatal course earlier that day, the mums were practicing active pushing for the birth, and maybe she pushed a little too hard with slightly wrong muscles..! Anyway, after a rather sleepless night, my mum is now up and feels much better than yesterday (which makes her happy, for she was planning to make Sarah Bernhard's cookies today) and both she and my dad are happy that they've had this little prova generale of going to the hospital. As I said before my dad passed the test without problems, but my mum didn't...she managed to forget to take her pregnancy-history with her (she took an empty backpack -leaving the pregnancy folder on the kitchen table!!). But it serves her as a reminder for day X.

Speculations

Do you recognize this little baby? No-no, it's not me, I'm not born yet -and technology still doesn't allow this kind of photographing of an unborn baby...! Plus, as you may see, this little baby is dressed..! But I thought of showing you this picture to redirect all speculations about how I look -towards something plausible!
One of the most frequent comments that people make these days is that I will most certainly look like my mum, as it seems to be a common belief that whereas sons look like their mothers, daughters look like their fathers (despite millions of exceptions that people see every day). Soon another comment follows -that since I must look like my mum I'm bound to look like a true viking, with blond hair and blue eyes! Well, I don't know what genetics say about this mother-son look-a-like thing, for all that I know I might just as well look like my father! But one thing is sure that if I'm to look like my mum when she was newborn, I wont be blond-blue-eyed at all! Yes you've got it, that black-haired, black-eyed mini-troll on the picture is my mum -she only turned blond about the age of 2!
On the other hand, if I'm to look like an italian child, it is highly plausible that I will be blond at birth! Believe it or not that most babies that my mum sees being walked around Pavia in strollers seem to be blond with blue eyes...and not because there has been an invasion of barbars (like my mum..!) in Pavia, but because as my mum turned blond at the age of two, these italian cuties turn dark-haired around that age. I can't begin to imagine what nature had in mind when this was programmed into our genes, but it sure puts a lot of uncertainty into the speculations of how I look! My parents, who are also curious about how I look (and soon enough they will find out) just hope that I won't be a mosaic, or striped or something...!

The suitcase

My mum has only been pregnant in Italy and, therefore, doesn't know if being pregnant in Italy is like being pregnant somewhere else. But one thing she is sure about is that the preparation of the suitcase for the hospital is very different from what it is like in Iceland. On the website of the University hospital in Iceland, there is a list of things that mothers to be are advised to take with them: toiletries, indoor-shoos and comfortable clothes, change for the automates, some snack, cell-phone, lip-balm, drinks, something to read, nice music, camera. Basically things that the mums can throw together in a small bag when the labour starts -so practically they are always ready. More importantly, this is an ADVISE, they can even just pop by without anything, and the father can bring the lip-balm and the book to read once the baby is born.

If only it was that easy in Italy.

As we belly-dwellers don't really announce with great advance when we are going to take that important journey down the birth-channel, mothers in Italy are adviced to be ready with the hospital suitcase at least a month before the due date. It is actually less than month until I'm supposed to be born, but my mother still hasn't prepared her suitcase -the only one at the pre-natal course that hasn't done so! Last week she at least started to prepare things. So what is so difficult?
Well, let's start with the things to prepare for the mother:
1 nightgown (not pyjama..NB) for every day that the mum stays in hospital (in Italy this means 3-5 days if all is ok, and depending on whether the baby was born naturally or with a C-section ). For someone that never wears nightgowns, and that risks to have a C-section because the baby is not turning, this means having to buy 4 nightgowns (to be on the safe-side, then my mum will just throw in pyjamas in case she has to stay more days)!! Of these, 3 have to be buttoned far enough down to permit breastfeeding without having to undress and the last one has to be buttoned all the way down in the front, for this one has to be worn during the birth. I know that italians care a lot about the way the look in any moment, and they don't like to look like the person next-door (or next-bed), but would it be too much to ask the hospital to provide the gown for the birth??? At the prenatal course the mums laughed a lot of the fact that the hospital specified that the nightgowns should NOT BE TRANSPARENT! But I don't know where all these ladies went to buy this particular nightgown, for then when my mum started going around looking for one, she was shown a transparent (not completely, but one that left little to the imagination) fully-buttoned, highly embroidered nightgown specially made for birth in THREE stores! Finally she had one store order a nightgown of a thicker material so that she wouldn't be going around the hospital half-naked and offending the hospital rules while preparing for birth. The other 3 nightgowns were not less of a challange, for nightgowns in italy, those buttoned in the front (as opposed to all the sexy silk and satin dresses) are normally made for a clientale of around 80 years, that seem to prefer flowers and pastel colours. My mum was aware of the fact that she was going to buy something that probably she would wear only one day..but the thought of being dressed like an 80-year old was too oppressing, so she and my dad made a whole-day trip around the stores of Arezzo to find suitable nightgowns. In the end they found 3 that were acceptable, no flowers or pastel colours. In addition a warm dressing-gown is needed, so my mum bought one of these. She had the choice between a pink one and a blue one and -prefering something more colourful but not being able to find one- she chose the blue one, which immediately caused the shop assistant to comment:

Oh che bello, so you are expecting a boy?

Now what has my gender got to do with the way my mum wants to dress? Is there a hidden dress-code depending on the belly-dweller's sex? Are there more ways in which my mum can be wrong in the way she is doing things?
Anyway, now my parents could tick the nightgowns off the list, then what's next: single-use pants (yeah, the hospital does not provide you with these things), post-birth absorbents, breastfeeding bras and pads to absorb excessive milk, toiletries, towel and a bathrobe, toilet paper, indoor shoes AND shower shoes. Then there are the things that recall the Icelandic list: money for the automates, snack, books to read, camera.... Well, my mum can't resist thinking that it would be much easier if they just let the women give birth at home -then they could avoid bringing their home to the hospital. Actually my mum was surprised to find out that the hospital WILL be providing bed-sheets, now considering everything else that has to be brought this is almost incredible.
Do you think that the list is finished... not at all, this was only the mum's part of the list, then there's also the list of things that are needed for ME.

For the newborn baby one has to bring clothes for 3-5 days (at least one change a day), including underwear, pyjama or sweaters and trousers, a cap (that also covers the ears) and a blanket. And a set of clothes of course for bringing the baby home. Oh, and as the hospital is rather cold (they don't save enough on the things that they don't provide for the mums and the babies, so they also have to save on the heating), this has to be made of wool. Then the mothers are advised to bring also something to protect the bed from getting wet during the change of the baby (for, as you might guess, they have to change their babies on the bed)...probably because the hospital only provides one set of bed-sheet for the whole hospital staying (maybe my mum should consider bringing her own bed-sheets also, just in case...!). Of these things, my parents have only got the underwear ready (well, and the orange blanket...), but probably this weekend they will go shopping for the remaining things, so the suitcase should be ready soon. Just as good, for the clock is ticking....

crazy anyway

I guess I have to take my mum's words for it -that she and my dad haven't become additcted to some drugs. But I still have my doubts. At least my parent's behaviour isn't always as one would expect from 2 grown-ups! Take last friday night as an example. My parents were in Arezzo with my grandparents, the weather was cold (around 5 degrees and extremely humid: ergo, senzation of cold as if it was at 0 degrees), and it was late in the evening (around 11). And what do they do? Go to the cinema? Fall asleep in front of the TV? Read a good book in bed? Nothing of that sort...well, once again they sneak out into a garage (this time an open one, with no doors), without socks, and not exactly dressed for outdoor activities in late november. Soon after they get outside I start to hear a rythmic sound, as if someone was step-dancing, but then I realized that it was just the sound of my mum's teeth that where shaking from cold!! Once in the garage my mum lies down on a sun-chair then they start to burn this herb close to my mum's toes. You think that's normal? And they say they are doing it for me...! Well, do they really expect me to turn when they behave like this? They are more likely to catch a heavy cold or even pnemonia, than getting me to turn...!
Another confirmation that my mum's head isn't eaxactly where it should be, is the way she's dressing. Here's a photo my dad took last weekend down in Tuscany of my mum and her panettone-belly. Doesn't it look as if my mum was completely unaware of her growing belly when she dressed that morning? Don't get me wrong, the sweater is beautiful -just as long as it's kept unbuttoned...but worn like this it looks as if I was trying to sneak out from under the sweater -the only thing missing is my hand, waving from the gap between the sweater and the trousers!!!
This has made me seriously worried for the fact that my mum will be responsible for dressing ME for the first few years of my life. And here is where my third concern comes in. Remember that she has used a whole year's production of argentinan wool to make me strange sweaters? Now she has added a blanket to the collection. An ORANGE blanket!!! What effect will that have on my sleep in the future? She claims it is the colour of spirituality and that it will have good effect on me and my sleep. I don't know where she has that information from. Maybe she wants me to become a little buddah!!!
Or maybe she really should start eating chocolate again.......