I’m pregnant….and then not….

Ok, so I had Biology in high school till matric, I loved drawing single cell organisms, but never could biology prepare me for the fact that the human body can be mysterious and strange…very, very strange.

I missed Aunt Flo, I’m never late, maybe a few days early, but never late. And when I’m late, I know the writing is on the wall. So this time I knew something was cooking.

I did an HPT…and waited…and waited…and waited…I waited for half an hour…and there was nothing, not even ONE line, never mind two. So I got this confused looked from hubby as he asked me “What does that mean?” Uhm, in all honesty, I don’t know… I have done about 8 or 9 HPT’s in my lifetime, and never before did I get a “nothing” result, most of my previous results have been 2 lines and the odd one here and there was a 1 liner, but never a “nothing”.

So I chucked the HPT in the bathroom dustbin and went to my mom’s for a visit, but when we got back home, my curiosity got the better of me, and there I was with my hand down the dustbin, digging around for the HPT…when I finally got hold of it, it was telling me a completely different story…there on the little screen where 2 very distinct pink lines….

Two pink lines are not that bad, we have talked about maybe expanding the Biekie-bunch with maybe one more…but soon the initial excitement was drowned by fears and “what if…”.

I have not yet came to a point where I can forgive myself for failing as a mother when I had to go for the D&C last year September, I don’t think I will ever be able to do so. As a mother I was suppose to protect my littlest with every inch and every part of my body and soul…and I could not do it…I failed myself and I failed the littlest.

So how will I be able to reassure myself this time around that I will not falter and fail again? How will I be able to protect when I’m not able to trust and forgive myself…the turmoil of emotions where endless and ongoing

Made an appointment with the Gynea for the following Monday. I walked into his office and sat down in front of his desk, he asked me the general “so you think you’re pregnant” questions, after which his showed me to the examination room. I walked into the room, the glare from the florescent light a bit overwhelming as I lay down on the bed and waited. The doctor came in, pulled up my shirt a bit and tucked that little blue cloth into the top of my pants. I felt the cold jelly being squirted onto my belly, a familiarity for me and my tummy. The probe was swishing around on my tummy, examining every inch of my womb…but all I was left with was a barren image….

Ok, so this is called hysterical pregnancy (just don’t know hysterical in which way), and dates as far back as Mary, Queen of England or something…. apparently this can also be described as purely psychological, and is mostly common in dogs and mice (Any further explanation needed???)

My brain told my body to prepare for something that there was nothing to prepare for. Is this my body, mind and soul rebelling?

This time around I am fine, I am really, really fine. It is just like waking up from a very realistic dream.

But I gave this a long hard thought, and maybe we should call this quits… We have two beautiful Biekies, of which we are very proud off and whom we love dearly. May I should take a moment to stop and count my blessings, be thankful for what I have and rather concentrate on that for now




THAT kind of Mom… (Consolidation post)

Yes, well apparently I am THAT kind of mom… (The kind that does numerous blog postings, saves them on her flash drive, but never get to the point where she actually posts them on her blog….)

the mom that always forgets to send the signed documentation and correspondence back to school in time;

the mom that will ALWAYS forget something (either being shoes, ok ok, mostly shoes) at someone’s house;

but most of all, I am that kind of mom that will always forget to RSVP on time…ALWAYS!

No matter how many reminders there are of the RSVP date, somehow I manage to miss them all and will only remember 2 or 3 days after the RSVP should have happened.

A week or so ago I received a phoned call from a rather distressed grandma asking whether H will be attending her grandson’s party that Saturday…and once again I realised that I forgot to RSVP…

Apparently being organised and punctual is soooo not my OCD. Sadly I do not even try and hide the fact that I am a scatter-brain (mainly due to the fact that it is quite obvious). And maybe this is reason enough for why I opted for 2 C-section rather than normal birth…(purely because I would have not been in time for the delivery)

And even though I try on various attempts to organise and sort everything, it never lasts more than 5 days before I am back at scatter-brain square 1.

Being a scatter brain is not easy, explanation set out in numerical order :

1. I rarely remember things, and for me to remember things, I need to make notes, but if I make notes, my whole desk is soon covered with sticky notes with at least 5 messages scribbled onto each…

2. I talk gibberish, cause my brain works way faster than my mouth so sentences are formed in my head at double the speed they leave my mouth, and the more excited I get, the faster I talk, the less the other person can understand

3. My thoughts get side-tracked in an instant

4. Insomnia is basically my best friend, I will lay awake at night till early hours of the morning cause I can not get my brain to stand still, take a breath, calm down and switch off. I will never be able to fall asleep in dead quiet, either the TV or the radio should be on for me to be able to sleep (to distract my brain from over-thinking, I guess)

Oh well, anyway

A bit a Biekie, a whole lot of boy….

My Bieki-baba turned 6! As I reflect back on these past 6 years, it is amazing to see where we came from and where we are today.

Six years ago, heavy pregnant, waddling like a duck, I was scared to death of what lay ahead for us as new parents. Not knowing what the future hold was even scarier than any theme-park ride I could ever imagine! Thoughts ran through my head, thoughts like “Will we survive”, and more important…“will the baby survive!”. But we took parenthood step by step, faced each challenge as it came, overcame it and survived…and yes…the baby stayed alive as well. We got through teething, crawling, walking, potty training, bottle weaning, stitches and Emergency Rooms. We celebrated each new accomplishment with heaps of pride and joy.

And looking back, these past 6 years have been the best time of my life. Who ever though such a little person can teach you so much!

We allowed H to decide what he wanted for his birthday, and the instructions were plain and simple : A party at the Spur and a lucky packet filled with toys for a present. And said instructions were carefully adhered to.

We organised a Spur birthday party for him and a few friends, and granddad was his hero when he showed up with a big bag filled to the brim with lucky packets, 24 lucky packets to be precise. Needless to say, my house is littered with plastic lucky packet toys, which can be found in every nook and cranny. He even took a few lucky packets to school as part of his lunch….

Congratulations with your 6th birthday my precious littlest Biekie, thank you for being part of our lives, for enriching our lives with love, joy and happiness, thank you for the lessons you taught us as parents. And we are looking forward to many more years to come!

We also recently celebrated my 31st birthday…damm… 3 1…. (please note that I do not feel 31, and no, I do not feel old or wish to refer to myself as old)

As part of the birthday celebration, hubby bought me the book “Bloom : Finding beauty in the unexpected”. I started reading the blog of Kelle Hampton (Enjoying the small things) when her birth story post of Nella spread like wild fire. Whilst reading the post, I bowled my eyes out; I could literally feel every single strand of raw emotion ripping through me. I fell in love with the Blog, I await each blog posting with great anticipation, follow it like there is no tomorrow… It feels like this blog became a household name for me, the “I’ve know her for years’ type of reaction. But getting back to the book, I’m reading it very, very slow, only a few pages at a time, savouring each moment, each phrase, each paragraph. I know I will read the book for a second time (and maybe a third) just to make sure that I did not miss anything, the smallest piece of detail.

 

I kind off like to idea of being 31, it feel so grown-up’ish, but instead of settling into a life that most woman my age does, I still do prefer sitting outside in the sandpit, playing with the littlest, digging holes and building bridges in the sand. I still prefer to rather jump with them on the jumping castle, doing handstands and trying my luck on H’s skateboard (which I should rather NOT be doing, I just might brake something).

With all the hustle and bustle of today’s life, escaping to being carefree is sometimes necessary, just to remind us how fun life can actually be, cause if you don’t do it…that is when you get old, that is when you forget how to live life, that is when you forget to enjoy the small things in life

The heart of a January…. ;)

Seeing that my blog is not famous (yet), and therefore I am not flooded with comments (yet), I truly appreciate that few that I do get. And I would like to share a conversation after a recent post I did, just because the comments was touchy and so heartfelt, and left me all warm and fuzzy…

• “I salute you for forgiving and moving on instead of harbouring hatred and ill feelings! Teaching your kids differently to what would be expected of someone who has gone through what your family has gone through”

* “Thank you for understanding the message behind my post. I saw so much hatred on FB with Mandela Day, and it was truly sad that as a nation we claim democracy and equality, but yet we cannot find it in our hearts to forgive the sins of our forefathers”

• “So true! Mandela day is a nice way of remembering him and those that fought for democracy etc. But we should not forget those who lost their lives.”

* “Instead of just celebrating Mandela, we should celebrate our country and the people living in it, those trying to make the difference.”

• “Yes, that is true! Cause you see, everyone went through the struggle. Not just Mandela and his friends.”

* “In some way or the other, it is a struggle for every person. And the struggles I have as a person does not make me a better or worse person that the guy next to me, it is suppose to ignite compassion to rather reach out a helping hand to the one next to you”

I’m not a politician, not even closely, and I do not talk politics and neither do I promote it, and my post was not directed in any political kind off way. For me it is about finding solutions in creating a better future, cause as a parent, I owe that to my children.

I had a few eye-opening moments these last couple of days, moments where I had to stand back and ask myself if this is the best possible example that I can set for my children, or can I improve on it, make it better in so many more ways? And it is hard to be completely satisfied with the person you are, we will always be faced with opportunities on which we can improve, learn from and grow from. We just need to take that first step, grab hold of those opportunities and make that change! Cause with change comes strength. And the stronger we grow as person, the easier it becomes to create that better future.

Mandela Day;

So, on the 18th of July 2012, we celebrated Mandela Day. Things such as freedom, democracy and equality were celebrated, but with all of the celebrations a lot of sad and painful events were also remembered.

The struggle throughout the history of South Africa was not an easy road; too many people were hurt in more than one way. The injustice done to the people were wrong. Many people lost their lives in a struggle that, to this day, have neither been won nor lost…

But then we have to ask ourselves “Why is this war still raging?”

The only real memory that I have of the Apartheids Era would be the 1994 election. I remember sitting in the living room, watching the tv, and the only images showing on the tv was that of the election, hundreds of people standing in queues, waiting to cast their votes, hoping to make a difference. More than that I honestly do not remember, I mean really, I was a child, enjoying life.

But the ripples caused by the Apartheids Era eventually reached our family, and my grandparents became part of the statistics of the notorious “Farm murders”.

I remember my dad sitting on the edge of their bed, his head cupped in his hands, crying. That was the first time I ever saw my dad cry.

I remember how I was overwhelmed by sadness and sorrow when my parents told me that my grandparents passed away.

I remember the pink dress I wore to their funeral; the dress had lace and little bows.

I remember thousands of tears streaming down the cheeks of familiar faces.

I remember my dad and uncles taking the shovels, and how shovel after shovel the dirt started to cover the caskets of the two people that I loved so dearly.

But what I remember most of all is how much I miss them…

…how I miss granny’s slap chips…

…how I would stand on my grandfather feet while he danced with me in the living room to the tune of “Dans met die rooi rok”…

…the bag filled with Quality Street tucked away in grandpa’s closet…

…the early morning smell of freshly brewed rooibos tea filling the house

My mind as child could not really grasp the reality behind all of it, and for me, missing them was far more important than hating those who cause the pain…. Years later I still prefer to focus on how much I miss them, keeping their memories alive and not allowing it to fade with time.

But yet, it saddens me to see that there are still so many people “trapped” in the happenings of our past, who refuse to let go, they grip onto it so tightly that it totally consumes them.

I refuse to raise my children in a world where hatred and anger clouds our minds and judgement, a world where decisions and accusations are based on the wrongdoings of the generations before us.

I want to teach my children the importance of respect for one another, the importance of equality. Teach them that they should treat others as they wish to be treated. I want to teach them that there is a place in the sun for each and every one of us. I refuse to tangle them into believing that they should hate for something that happened two, three of four generations ago. We cannot clutch onto the past when trying to create a better future.

We need to learn to let go, not for the sake of the past generations, but more important, for the sake of the future generations

Celebrations….

We had a couple of celebrations the last month or so, giving us the opportunity to commemorate special moments and create precious memories.

We celebrated Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, giving praise and thanks to people whom without we would not have been possible, people that created us, raised us, moulded us, people that provided us with the necessary stepping stones in life, they kept us safe, wiped our tears and shared our joys, but they also had to let go and give us the opportunities to explore and grow on our own. But most of all, they love us!

It was also a great honour for me the day I became a mother…I am a mother, and a mother to the most precious littlest Biekies.

We also celebrated when Grandma and Grandpa came to visit for a few days. Not only did they bring presents and sea shells (yes our package was delivered “by hand”…it was delivered by the hand of grandma and grandpa), but they also brought “conversations till late”, “anybody for another cup of coffee?”, potjiekos, laughter, sharing and rekindling of special bonds between Biekies and those who love them. They further brought the opportunity of creating new memories, memories that we will be able to share the next time we meet.

And hopefully the next time will be next to the sandy shores of the sea, the sea with it’s crashing waves and noisy squawking seagulls gliding over-head, the sea we love so much and miss so dearly…

But, and this is a great, big BUT….

We celebrated littlest Miss Diva, we celebrated her life, her love… we celebrated her! Yes, the time came to celebrate her birthday, another year passed, which was filled with so many great and special moments, joys and laughter, yes, there were tears as well (but we like to think that those tears made us stronger in what we do and achieve…)

I cannot believe that she turned two! It is amazing to look back over the past two years, to see how far we have come from the day she was born until now, all the unforgettable moments that was created in that time frame, the goals that were reached, as well as passed with flying colours.

I miss her being a baby, I miss her milky-baby breath, I miss those tiny little fingers and those tiny little toes, but all of that has been replaced with a littlest singing along with the music playing on the radio, very inquisitive fingers and buzy little toes, and what mamma out there can not love little things like that, those remarkable changes we get to witness each and every day.

And celebrating all of this, we baked and laughed and sang and clapped and smiled…(and cried)…we shared this with friends and family, we indulged in braaivleis, mieliepap, and more laughter, we toasted to her, we toasted to that which has passed and that to come…. we created awesome memories… we celebrated!

Life as we know it

Life is hectic, keeping to our daily schedule and routines are not always easy.  Most mornings end up in me rushing the kids to get dressed and ready cause “we are late” (which we are 4 out of 5 mornings in a week). 

Friday evenings have been consumed by rugby practice and Saturday mornings are spend next to the rugby field, eating hotdogs and encouraging the Biekie.  Having my heart ache with pride has never felt so good!

The times following between Saturday and Friday H spend improving on his newly taught techniques, throwing and catching the ball, running with the ball, firmly gripped under the one arm and “pushing” the opponents away with the other, and using mommy’s legs as a batter ram for scrums and tackles.  Seeing his eyes lit up, the smile on his face and the endless enthusiasm in which all of this is done is priceless.  And yes, of course, my littlest remains one bad-ass kicker….

On the other end of the spectrum…with each day passing we can see more and more transformation in the littlest of Biekies, less baby and more little lady (or should I say Diva), less dependant and more independence, more eager to do things on her own.  Conversations are slowly turning from gibberish to meaningful words and short sentences.  And let me tell you, sister can dance to the beat!

So with all of this happening, the other Sunday was kind of a big day in our household, as we are in the process of slowly transforming sister’s room to suit her “big-girl” needs.  Out with the cot and in with the “big girl” bed, out with the Chest of Drawers and in with the dressing table.  But more to follow soon…

And between all of this we are also busy arranging a birthday party for little Miss Diva, celebrating her achievements, celebrating her life, and celebrating her.  And what better way to do this than with a vintage style tea party.  Digging for the miniature porcelain tea set we inherited from Great-Grandma, digging out the China we got from Grandma, discovering long forgotten crocket tablecloths in the back of the linen closet, planning the menu, the thank-you gifts, the guest list, a day filled with fun and laughter, a day spend with people loving and caring for my littlest, a day spent in the best possible way I know…with friends and family.

I also heard a fluttering whisper that we might be expecting a “Per Hand” parcel…. a parcel filled with all sorts of goodies, hand-knitted goodies, farmer’s market hand-made goodies, dearly missed seashells and sea sand, and to top it all, lots of hugs and kisses, all carefully packet and wrapped by a Grandma and Grandpa, who misses the littlest Biekies greatly.  Can’t wait to see the expression on their little faces as we unwrap that parcel and discover those hidden treasures underneath the lid…

Had a chat with a dear friend who is awaiting the arrival of her second littlest, and we spoke about our trials and tribulations as mommies (and as parents).  We spoke about the fears we face as second-time pregnant moms, the doubts we have in our abilities.  But where I sit today and look back at it all, it was not really that bad.  I am somewhat surviving the age-gap, the boy-vs-girl, the lack of sleep and the nappies.  We have an ever-changing-ever-adapting routine; cause what worked today might not always work as well tomorrow. 

H raised much easier than Z is doing, he was my easy-child where as she is my little tantrum diva.  And whoever said you get smarter with the second child did not have a second child, cause I sometimes feel more clueless now than I did with H.

But yet, as difficult and daunting as things can be at times, so much more rewarding are they.  Being able to share their accomplishments, their milestones, and the crazy happy moments.  Just loving these precious little moments.

Discovered not far from our house, is a venue called the “Biekie Bos”, and I think the Biekies should go for a visit…

Strive to perfection

The clock reads "23 April, 10;13 am", and if I remember correctly, my dad was buzy walking me down the aisle, leaving the old behind and walking towards a new future...we were all so nervous, I remember that I just kept telling my dad "Do not step on my dress, please..."

I walked passed smiling familiar faces, but till this day I can not remember whose faces those were...all I remember was seeing him standing in front of the church, smiling, waiting for me...
We were married young, not knowing what the future holds, not really caring about it either, all we cared about was that being in love with each other was spectacularly wonderful!

"For better or for worse" - Yes, some days have been "for better" and others have been "for worse", but overall, most of them have been "For the best"!  We can not expect live to go smooth sailing all the time, how are we suppose to learn those valuable life lessons if nothing ever goes wrong?
We are learning together, we are growing together, and with each day passing we are going stronger and stronger.

It might sound cheesy, but he truly completes me, I am beautiful cause he makes me beautiful.  He gave me the most precious gift in life, he made me a mommy and enriching my life with two precious littlest Biekies!

But I have to thank my Heaven Father most of all, cause He is the one who send Guilm my way, He planned for us to be together and share the memories of each day.  He's the glue that keeps us sticking!

So, happy Weeding Anniversary my Bollie! Thank you for (sometimes, just sometimes), being the better part of me, I truly love you "till death do us part"