A Fish Out of Water

Good-bye Summer

We had an extra-long summer this year, starting in Canada and finishing in Japan. Where I'm from it's considered summer if you can comfortably wear a t-shirt, whereas in Japan summer doesn't really start until the rainy season ends in mid-July. Right when we got back to Japan! Still, it feels like it's gone by too fast and we didn't get to do enough.

We spent a lot of time at the splash pool across the street and I ended up getting him some water guns, after vowing to never buy him any kind of gun-like toy. He was chasing around all the other kids though and trying to take their guns (after being out of kindergarten or daycare for three months he'd forgotten his social skills) it was easier to just get him one of his one. Luckily he ended up preferring his tube-shaped water shooter, so I think by next summer the guns will have somehow accidentally been thrown out. Oops.

We went to a fireworks show, and Shuma loved the first half and then fell asleep for the last half.

My niece Marya came over for a couple nights. We went to the movies and saw Doraemon: Stand By Me (a Japanese kid's animation), which I was able to mostly understand but really didn't like because it has some negative messages. It was Shuma's first time at the movies (not counting once when he was a baby) and he loved it and is now a fan of Doraemon (an earless blue cat robot from the future, if you were wondering).

Not many things are fun for both 3-year-olds and 9-year-olds, but anything with water seems to do the trick. We went to the splash pool and a regular pool too and exhausted ourselves.

The kids made their own pizzas- Marya carefully made this beautiful vegetable pattern while Shuma dumped a handful each of olives and pepperoni.

And bathtime is always more fun with an extra kid!

He was also happy to just have a new person to share his toys with. There isn't a whole lot of casual visiting in Japan so it's really rare to have a playmate over. Let's hope this happens again!

Next we went to Osaka to visit the in-laws. Marya and her brother Yuuki were there, and again Shuma was happy to have playmates.

Some old games and toys were dug out, including Hideaki's old pinball machine which the kids loved.

And this toy that was Hideaki's when he was little. Shuma just found it and started playing with it, and without hearing where it came from it became his favourite toy.

He insisted on sleeping with it every night and still likes to carry it around when we go out. Funny how he's so attached to something that his dad played with 40 years ago. And amazing that they kept it, and in such good condition!

While we were there all the kids took swimming lessons, with Shuma and Yuuki in the same class. That's Yuuki third from left and Shuma on the right, splashing water into the filter instead of listening to the teachers (he did this pretty much the whole week).

Yuuki was better than Shuma at paying attention, but he did like to do his own thing. I like how they have all the kids lined up on their bellies on the raft, with Yuuki lying on his back. Just chilling.

They both got certificates showing they'd completed the lowest level possible. Yay! All the other kids got higher levels, except for the 2-year-old who spent his first three days crying. Oh well, they had fun and that's what's important.

We went to a couple of amusement parks, where I didn't take many pictures because chasing around my child is kind of exhausting. At one of them Shuma and Yuuki got to touch a dolphin and Marya got to swim with them.

Back home we had some cool weather so spent more time at the playground than the splash pool.

 

The last weekend of August we stayed at the Shinagawa Prince Hotel, since we weren't able to take a trip anywhere. We did the same thing three years ago and this time the view wasn't quite as good but Shuma did enjoy the trains.

 

The hotel has an aquarium and a pool, so we kept busy with those and then the next day took a couple of river cruises.

 

We finished with a ride on a choo-choo train, then a ride on a real train. Hideaki took this very flattering picture of me during the three minutes I fell asleep, which is so unfair because this is probably the first time I've slept on the train when we're out together. Whereas he sleeps every single time leaving me to keep our son quiet and amused. Sigh.

And the next day summer was over and Shuma was back in kindergarten. Usually it stays hot throughout September in Tokyo but it's been cool and truly feels like autumn has started. So between kindergarten and the weather this is the most abrupt end of summer I've experienced since I was in school myself. I don't like it, and in my next life I am requesting to come back as a bear (or maybe garter snake) so I can hibernate. Good-bye summer!

 

More summer pictures here if you're interested.

Canada

So here are the rest of the pictures from our trip to Canada this winter. The biggest event (besides Christmas, which I covered here) was the ice storm, which left everything encased in ice for well over a week. Not to mention thousands of people left without elecricity for several days over Christmas. We were lucky and kept our power, but two of our trees were damaged.

This is the elm in our front yard, and what looks like bushes beneath it is a pile of branches that snapped off. This tree will be fine, but it produced a surprising about of debris.

The corkscrew willow in our backyard sustained extensive damage, with none of its main branches coming through unscathed. (It's a big beautiful tree, probably the biggest in our neighborhood and is a beloved feature of our backyard. I am trying to find a picture that shows it in its undamaged glory but there is no single good shot so here is a collection of pictures with the tree somewhat visible in the background.)

On the first night of the ice storm the whole house was kept awake by the sound of the branches bending and cracking, eery sounds that are unlike anything else I've heard. Also highly annoying as it was only my second night home and both Shuma and I were actually sleepy, so my jet lag recovery was delayed. Stupid ice storm.

The effect was pretty but made getting around hard. The ground was of course icy, and the snow was also covered in a layer of ice that turned walks into major ordeals. Shuma didn't particularly mind, he loves winter and all of the cold, snow and ice that comes with it.

We didn't get very far, mostly just to the school across the street, but that was good enough for him as it offered some of his favourite things: puddles, buses and icicles.

I had wanted to bring him ice skating but the local outdoor rink was closed down for our entire visit due to fallen branches. So Sherry, my brother's girlfriend, convinced me to take him skiing. I am not a skier so I couldn't help much, but Sherry taught him the basics.

He actually managed to stay up by himself for a little while! He also loved the tractor ride back to the parking lot. We only went twice and didn't get a chance to follow up when we got back to Japan, but next winter we will try again for sure.

He had plenty to do at home too. Not that his grandparents spoil him or anything though.

And Fluffles The Magnificent warmed up to him (after about a week of hiding like the other two cats) and they resumed their friendship.

He ate noodles like some kind of little noodle eating machine. Here he is with Korean udon, and he also discovered a love for pho. Once he ate an entire regular-sized bowl all by himself, which made me immensely proud.

Here is a bonus naked bath shot!

A highlight of the trip was a visit to Toronto's new aquarium, which I wasn't very excited about because I live in the land of aquariums. Shuma and I both ended up loving it though, and though he didn't have much patience for just standing there watching the marine life there were enough hands-on activities to keep him occupied. It was more expensive than the typical Japanese aquarium, was crowded, didn't have fancy things like whale sharks or dolphin performances, but I think it's one of the best aquariums I've been to. Considering how educational it was I don't think it was overpriced, the crowds were average compared to Japan, and I'm not a big fan of dolphin shows anyway. I can't wait to go back.

Other things he liked included sitting dangerously close to the fireplace playing "Bob the Builder".

We had plenty of tools but no helmet or tool belt, so he took some of those foam net thingies that come wrapped around fruit and stretched them in to use. This was with no suggestion or prompting from us, he just totally thought of it himself. Pretty creative! He then went on to discover magnetics and keep us entertained for a good part of the evening. Here is a video of him being Bob the Builder (sorry it's pretty long) and here is some magnet fun.

See the photo album for more pictures from the trip. Now if you'll excuse me, the search for a good picture of the willow has brought on a nostalgia attack. I need to go be sad for a while.

Christmas in Canada

We celebrated Christmas with my family in Canada last year, a first for Shuma and the first in 15 years for me. Christmas Eve began with our traditional lasagne dinner, then Shuma checked out the tree and all the Christmas loot (we'd been home for almost a week and it had been a daily battle to stop him from opening them all, but he showed restraint on Christmas Eve). Then Baboo, my dad, started a fire.

And Shuma and I opened our Christmas Eve boxes and changed into our new Christmas jammies, then after a reading of A Visit From St Nicholas we hung up our stockings.

One stocking for each person, and one for the cats.

Christmas morning brought a nice sunset, which was especially pretty glowing through the ice-encrusted branches of our trees. We'd had an ice storm, one of the worst in history, a few days before. It made the trees look beautiful, until their branches bent over and broke off- bad luck for the trees, and for the people who lost electricity when those branches took down power lines. We were lucky and although two of our trees were heavily damaged (including a beloved old willow that lost over half of its volume in branches) our power stayed on and we didn't have a cold and dark Christmas like thousands of others did.

And then everyone was up and it was time to check on the stockings. Not only were there too many presents to fit under the tree, but the stockings were so full they couldn't fit on their hooks.

Then breakfast, and after a day of playing with our new toys, dinner.

We missed Hideaki, but otherwise it was an excellent Christmas.

Happy New Year!

Here is this year's nengajo (new year postcard). For the first time ever it doesn't feature this year's zodiac animal (which is the horse), because Shuma doesn't pose well (I did buy a stuffed horse but he wouldn't sit still with it for pictures) and there is a law in Japan that says once you have children you must include a picture of them on your nengajo. So it's just him. He's looking at an airplane by the way, a tiny one way up high that nobody but a little kid would notice.

Anyway, wishing a very Happy New Year to all of my readers!

Jamaica

Way back in February, while Shuma and I were visiting my family in Canada, we took a trip to Jamaica. We went with my parents, who go to Negril every year year, and were joined by various family members and friends, but mostly in these pictures you'll see Shuma. And it's mostly just pictures, I have to hurry up and finally get this posted because in a few days I'll be back in Canada. "You're going back again? You just went!" is what almost every Japanese person says when I tell them. Well, 9 months is actually not that recent but yes, I'm very luck to be going back twice in one year.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back to February: here is Shuma all bundled up on the way to the airport.

And here he is on the beach!

With cousin Zoe.

Destroying sandcastles.

On a visit to YS Falls. This tractor was the highlight of the day for Shuma.

With buddy Josh.

And a feathered buddy.

And a friendly buddy.

And a not-so-friendly buddy.

And Baboo (my dad).

Actually making a sandcastle for once.

And at the airport on the way home.

More pictures here.

Hoikuen

Look, look! This is Shuma's bento (lunch box) containing my very first attempt at hosomaki (thin sushi rolls). I've never felt the need to make sushi before, because living in Japan there is decent sushi everywhere (duh). But in July Shuma started going to hoikuen (daycare) and I had to make a bento for him, and he lost his appetite during the adjustment period and wouldn't eat his lunch. Didn't matter what I put in it, he wouldn't eat it.

He's a bit picky- he doesn't have any foods that he absolutely never ever will eat, but his tastes change frequently and he'll suddenly stop eating something he loved until yesterday. There are only two foods he will always always eat: kappamaki (cucumber sushi roll) and edamame (green soybeans). So I started including edamame in his bento, and lo and behold, he ate it. And since there are no take-out sushi shops that are open at 8:50am in my neighborhood, I had to learn to make kappamaki myself. And I did, and he ate it, and even now that he's used to hoikuen and eats pretty much whatever is in his bento, I still make it. Sadly my skill haven't improved- the rolls are still messy and uneven and prone to falling apart. I think I need to take a class or something.

So anyway, Shuma is in daycare. He goes to hoiku mama (home-based daycare) which is relatively rare in Japan and a bit different from Canada- only three kids per home are allowed, and only until age three (or more correctly, until the school year that they turn three). Hoiku mama is much easier to get into than regular public daycare, but is partially subsidized so is cheaper than private daycare. I was able to get in even though I didn't yet have a job, with the understanding that I'd find work within three months. I was able to pick up enough private English lessons to qualify in time, but I'm still only working part time and never would have qualified for regular hoikuen so I consider myself very lucky.

His caregiver (mama?) is great and although he had a few weeks of crying every morning at drop-off he loves her, and has made friends with the other two kids there (a one-year-old girl and a girl his age). His Japanese has improved immensely and he talks way more now, even in English. He takes a nap every day, which he has never done with me. He gets lots of activities and time at the park that he probably wouldn't get with me, and when I pick him up he is happy to see me and always in a good mood. It's so different than before he started, when we were both often grumpy much of the time.

I am not a supermom, and even with no job, just one child, and a low-maintenance husband I was having a hard time keeping things together. The house was always a mess, providing three meals a day was a challenge, and I was completely unable to keep Shuma busy and happy without losing my temper several times a day. Being together all day, every day was really taking a toll. I don't think it's natural for a child to spend every single moment of its life with its mother, especially after infancy, and I never wanted it to turn out that way- I always assumed I'd be working at least part time, and that Hideaki would be home more, that we'd use babysitters, that I'd be able to share babysitting with friends and in-laws. But no, instead my son and I were alone together all the time and driving each other crazy. He started hoikuen just in time.

It's been a bit of a learning curve for me, and not just the bentos. Hideaki did all the paperwork stuff when applying but once Shuma was in all the communication is up to me. Thankfully most of it is by text (I hate the phone to begin with, but phone calls in Japanese are pretty much the most stressful thing in the world for me), and somehow she seems to understand my awful Japanese. He needs to keep at least three changes of clothes there (she will change him the instant he sheds a drop of sweat or gets a molecule of dirt on his clothes) so I need to be doing laundry all the time to keep up. And then there's the renrakuchou (parent-teacher notebook?).

I thought the renrakuchou was the silliest thing when I first heard of it. I have to write down what he does at home (what time he sleeps, eats etc) and she does the same thing (what activities they do, what time he naps, when he has a snack, that sort of thing). I have to write down his temperature in the morning and she takes his temperature during the day (I'm sure I've mentioned before that the Japanse are obsessed with body temperature). There is a space for me to write anything of note (usually I leave it blank), and in her space she writes in detail about what he did. She usually shares little stories and sometimes includes pictures, like above. And there is a section on food, where she'll let me know if he ate his bento (including specifically what he did and didn't like) and what he had for snacks. Now that I'm used to it it's really helpful, and fun to know what he's up to. It's not much work to fill out, and mine is pretty basic (apparently some places have you fill out the weather, what mood your child is in, even if and when they poop).

It's kind of embarrassing to share this, as my handwriting is awful and I am using the wrong terms (since she understands my broken Japanese I've never bothered finding out the real words). And that he has such a late bedtime (we try for 8 but it often ends up being late like this night was). On this day he only ate one out of two onigiri (rice balls) and part of his side dishes (probably cheese, carrot sticks and edamame- I'm guessing he ate the edamame and left the rest). His temperature was a bit high, and she mentioned it to me at pick-up but we agreed since he was otherwise fine it wasn't anything to worry about (thankfully she is relaxed, I know some parents and teachers who would be worried about a 37C temp). Oh, and I put a bar over the eyes of the girl in the pic, it's not like that in the book. You can never be too careful with (other peoples') kids on the internet, and the Japanese especially are very sensitive about privacy.

Anyway, I am sure this is going to become a keepsake. Even now I love reading it, I especially like hearing the little stories. It's so cool to see him growing up into his own person, totally separate from me. I see things that I like to think he gets from me (his love of nature, recorded in the book as his excitement at seeing an especially large leaf or his glee at collecting acorns), I see things that are totally not from me (how he'll spend an entire hour at the park just running), and then I see milestones and regular growing-up kind of stuff (like when he gently holds his crying playmate's hand and says "let's play!"). I love it.

He is three now and the school year ends in March, so he only has five months left. From April he will either have to start regular hoikuen or youchien (kindergarten). I'm in the process right now of deciding (and it's a big decision, as it will be for the next three years). And while I'm sure we'll both get used to whichever place we choose, I wish he could stay with his hoiku mama.

Birthday

Shuma turned three earlier this month. The actual day was rather low-key, as it was a weekday and Hideaki was away, all he got was a big Thomas balloon and a "Happy Birthday!". But as soon as we were all together again we had a little party. (Big birthday parties with lots of friends/classmates are not normally done here.) First he woke up to find the living room all decorated, then he saw the pile of presents (it looks kind of obscenely large- and it doesn't even include the presents from his grandparents, which arrived later- but it's mostly books and practical stuff).

Then we went out for a sushi brunch. He had his own plate of ikura (salmon roe) for the very first time- until now he's just stolen ours (of course he still stole ours this).

We stopped at a park on the way home and Shuma did some climbing for a while before becoming fascinated by an old lady who was sitting watching her grandkids play while smoking and blowing bubbles. She might also have been drunk. He just stared and stared until she offered her bubble wand and then we spent the next four hours (or what felt like it) blowing bubbles and playing with her grandkids.

Below is Shuma's "Infinity!" pose- you know, where Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story says "To Infinity-- And Beyond!" before flying away. Except that Shuma can only say "Infidi!" and is not a great flyer.

Then back home for cake. This little thing started out beautiful but got a little jostled on the way home from the bakery, and then further damaged from a tussle over the candle. See the bite mark? Shuma did a great job blowing it out by himself, but then he grabbed it and took a bite. Lord knows why he thought it was edible, but he soon realized it wasn't and he spat it out. And then while I was cutting the cake I guess I was too slow because he took another bite. Lord knows why he thought it would taste better on the second try.

 

This is a very typical Japanese cake, by the way. It's called "strawberry shortcake" or "decoration cake" and is very popular for birthdays and Christmas and consists roughly of 95% whipped cream, 1% cake, and 4% strawberries. Shuma enjoyed it much more than he did the candle.

And on to the presents. He wasn't just excited, he was literally bouncing off the walls.

And furniture. I swear, he did this move where he jumped on the sofa, did a headstand and tumbled off move about a dozen times. His favourite presents seemed to be a garbage truck that makes an ungodly loud noise (why couldn't they mention that on the box) and a pack of alphabet fridge magnets. He is really into his ABC's now so spends a long time reading the fridge each day. They also double as chew toys, and every single one now has bite marks on it. I thought he outgrew his biting stage when he was an infant, but I guess not. The kid is three going on zero.

780 Yen

This is what 780 yen worth of grapes looks like in Japan. That's not particularly expensive for good domestic "Muscat of Alexandria" grapes, the most popular green variety here, and you could spend about several times that for the same size bunch if you wanted to.

So why did I spend 8 dollars on a small bunch of grapes? Shuma. The other day he was being pretty good while we were shopping for once, not grabbing random items and throwing them in my cart or running away and hiding like he usually does, when suddenly he goes up to these grapes, sinks his teeth into one, and runs away. He doesn't even eat it, just leaves it there with his tooth marks in it. You can see the bitten grape in question at bottom centre, just under the label- it's plumped up a bit since then so it's kind of hard to tell, but it was quite obvious at the time. So I was forced to buy them.

When I caught up to him he was following an older lady carrying a little kiddie basket (that the supermarket supplies so kids can play shopping along with their mom or dad). And before I could reach him he grabbed onto the basket and started pulling. I was apologizing and trying to wrench the basket from his iron grip when the lady said "You want it? Here" and walked off with a scowl. So Shuma managed to mess with the one old lady in the store who didn't love little kids (a typical Japanese granny would probably have laughed, given him the basket, and then given him some candy- all Japanese grannies carry candy you know).

I really should restrain him, and I would for sure in Canada where people are much less tolerant of annoying kids. But Japanese shopping carts are awful to begin with, and Japanese shopping carts with child seats have to be one of the poorest designed items in the world. Here is a picture of one, kind of hard to tell but the seat is very low so you end up kicking your kid's feet with each step, or their feet drag on the ground. It also puts them at a perfect level to grab stuff off of table displays or shelves, compared to a shopping cart back home where the seat is higher and protected on each side by the width of the cart. And a typical Japanese mom would be OK but for me the handles are way too low and widely spaced so I have to stoop down to reach them. And they're really hard to steer. I hate them.

Over a year ago I bumped into a Japanese mom I know with a boy the same age as Shuma and I complemented her on the excellent behavior of her son, who stood quietly by her side holding her hand and not touching anything, and said I never let my son walk free in the supermarket. She looked at Shuma, safely subdued in a shopping cart while demanding to be held and grabbing anything he could reach, and said smugly "Well if I keep him in the cart he will never learn to behave properly while shopping." OK, the smugness is 100% in my imagination, but it did strike me as a slightly naive and insensitive thing to say. I'm sure she is doing a great job raising her child but he seems to be one of those naturally quiet and obedient children, and she doesn't realize that terrors like my son are born that way, not made.

Anyway, the grapes were pretty good. Very sweet and juicy, no seeds, edible peel (many varieties of Japanese grapes have thick bitter peels that need to be removed, way too much work if you ask me). I actually prefer the cheap imports though, I like a little tartness and crunch. Shuma loved them, I hope this doesn't give him any ideas or he's going to start biting everything he wants.

Birth Story, Part Two

Shuma turns 3 today. I thought maybe it was about time to finish writing his birth story. I have forgotten so many little details already, and need to get it out while I still have some memory of it left. I actually did start writing it soon after the birth, and have worked on it a few times over the years, but at first I wasn't really ready. It was all so recent and awful and I wasn't finished sorting out how I even felt about it myself. And as time went on I became kind of bitter about the whole thing and just wanted to forget it. And also whenever I'd reread what I'd written I realized it was way too long, and was really just a long boring list of complaints.

I've tried to make it a bit less long-winded and whiney, but since this is a record for myself as much as it is a blog post, I don't want to leave too much out. So be warned: this is very long and self-indulgent. I recommend just scrolling down to see the pictures and reading this short version:

Shuma was taken to the hospital after being born in a midwifery house, due to meconium aspiration syndrome (basically when a baby has its first poop while still in the womb). Like most babies with MAS he was just fine, but needed oxygen and his lungs cleaned out and a series of tests to rule out complications. He was in there for a week, and I stayed in my midwife clinic without him for 5 days before being released. It sucked.

Here is the long version (taking up where we left off, in the first part of the birth story):

 

It was just me and the remaining two midwives, and they busied themselves cleaning me up. I was as limp as a rag doll and remember feeling shame at having to be wiped down and dressed, but I literally couldn't lift an arm to help them out. After a rest I realized I was ravenously hungry and asked for something to eat, and despite still feeling a bit nauseous I was able to sit up and eat a little. I remember finding the food much too heavily flavoured and could only eat a few bites, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to eat anything during my stay if all the food was this bad.

Eating gave me a good amount of energy though, and I realized if I'd been able to eat during labour I might have been much stronger and gotten the baby out sooner. That's a thought that came after, of course. That night I was too tired to think about anything. During dinner my sister-in-law, Atsuko, and her daughter Marya came for a quick visit, and then I think I called my parents, and then a midwife came in for an exam. She reported that I had a pretty bad perineal tear and we'd have to look after it tomorrow. This terrified me but I was assured that it would be done with anaesthetic and I was too tired to ask for more details so I drifted to sleep until finally the head midwife came back from the hospital and reported everything was going fine. Shuma had been admitted to the NICU and was on oxygen but doing well (as measured by how loud he was crying, which was: very loud). A few hours later Hideaki, who had stayed at the hospital to finish the paperwork, came back. He had taken a few pictures, so I got my first real look at Shuma James Nakazawa:

The next morning I was able to eat a proper breakfast. Traditional Japanese food, on the austere side, and not much of it. It was very lightly flavoured and I realized that the previous night's dinner hadn't been over-seasoned as I thought. It was just lingering nausea that had made my taste buds sensitive. Now I wished I'd brought a salt shaker.

As Hideaki was leaving for work (he'd already used up the one day off he was given for the birth) and a junior midwife came in and announced that we were leaving in half an hour to get me stitched up. At my own midwifery house there is nobody qualified to do that, so we'd have to take a taxi to an ob-gyn. Not the nearby big hospital where by son was though, that would make too much sense. So I had to scramble to get ready, still barely able to stand up, still filthy, still in pain. I had asked what I needed to bring and was told just my insurance card, so that's what I brought, and I hobbled into the taxi- she did the polite thing and let me get in first, and it was so painful having to scoot over that the backseat seemed like it was miles long. It was a long, uncomfortable ride through tiny narrow Tokyo streets, with plenty of swerves and bumps, and it took most of my energy to sit still and not cry out. But I needed even more energy to deal with this midwife, who was a chatty Kathy, and not just a regular chatty Kathy but the kind that sees foreigners as an opportunity to practice her English. Small problem- she couldn't speak English. But she tried, and kept trying, for the entire 20 minute ride. This would have been incredibly annoying under any circumstances, but with me exhausted and in pain and worried about my baby and dreading the upcoming procedure it was torture. I thought at first maybe she was trying to distract me, but if she was thoughtful enough to want to do that you'd think she'd also be able to notice that I did not want to answer her stupid unintelligible questions.

Upon arrival the driver announced the price and the midwife looked at me expectantly. I hadn't brought my wallet, since she hadn't mentioned money when I'd asked what to bring (and I stupidly assumed I'd be billed for everything later). She had to pay out of her own pocket and seemed completely shocked and put-out, and I apologized and promised to pay her when we got back.

Inside the clinic she continued her chatter until I just couldn't take it and lay down on the bench with my arms over my head, and at that point a kindly nurse noticed that I wasn't doing well and brought me to a room to lie down. The silence was wonderful. When it was my turn, the doctor got started right away, giving me a shot for the pain and telling me to let her know if it started to hurt. After a few minutes it did start to hurt, and I told her, and lord knows why she wanted me to tell her because I didn't get any more shots. She said there were only a few stitches left to do, but it hurt more and more and my groans turned to screams and the doctor, nurse and midwife were all telling me "Gambatte!" and "Almost done" and other encouraging things, and it was just like it was when I was giving birth half a day before. Finally the nurse mimed lamaze-type breathing, just like I'd used during labour, so I did that and it helped a little. I was so grateful for that, but why the hell couldn't they have just given me some pain relief? Why did I have to go through all of that again?

I didn't ask how many stitches there were ("I was too tired to ask" is kind of a theme here, and it seems hard to believe now but I really was- too physically tired to talk, or too mentally tired to think of the words in Japanese or to stand up for myself) and it was months before I had the courage to get a mirror and look, by which time the stitches were long gone. But I think I felt about 8 after the anaesthetic wore off, and who knows how many were done before then, so maybe a dozen?

Unbelievably, the midwife was surprised all over again when I didn't have any money to pay the clinic. Idiot. In the cab ride back I just closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, and she finally shut up, thank Jesus. She made the taxi wait when we got back so I could go get my wallet, and it was almost empty. Oops. I guess next time I give birth I'll be sure to stop at the ATM on the way to the hospital. I had just enough to pay the driver and not enough to pay the midwife back for the rest of it so promised her my husband would pay when he came after work that night.

So I managed to eat some lunch and then my mother-in-law came. It was so nice to see her and she held my hand and we both cried for a while. Crying was such a relief. When we'd recovered we took a taxi to the hospital so I could finally see my boy. We got the world's worst taxi driver, an older lady who was both the stereotypical woman driver and the stereotypical older Japanese lady. So she talked the whole time and got lost and had to ask a police officer directions and got lost again and finally got us there without offering any discount for the lost time. I let my MIL pay, I was too excited to care, and after scrubbing up we were brought to the NICU and introduced to my son.

His eyes were open and he looked right at me, and they were grey or maybe blue, it was hard to tell under the harsh lighting and with his eyes just open a crack, but they were beautiful eyes. I was allowed to put my hand in the incubator and touch him, which Hideaki hadn't been allowed to do the night before, so I took that as progress. He gripped my thumb and it wasn't the iron grip that parents describe, but it felt like he was trying his hardest. It felt like he knew me. I wanted to hold him so badly, but was told he had to stay in his plastic box. The doctor came and explained some things to us, which I couldn't really understand but the gist of which seemed to be "he seems to be totally fine but we need to do some more tests and make sure he's feeding well". And he also asked if I'd been able to express any milk. I felt like an awful mother when I said no, but I had asked after the birth and again this morning if I could pump and the midwives had said no, I needed to rest first. It didn't seem right, but you know, I was too tired to question it.

Hideaki had told them that Shuma wasn't to receive any formula. Yay for him, if only he'd been able to be in two places at once and told my midwives to let me pump. I was very proud of him and glad the hospital abided, but since I hadn't provided any milk they were feeding him sugar water. The nurses were just as eager for me to begin pumping as I was, as apparently Shuma cried pretty much nonstop, and he was very very loud. I hadn't really noticed yet, but all the other babies in the NICU were tiny little things, mostly preemies, and their cries were more like the mewls of kittens than the very healthy sounds my son was making. So I was brought to the pump station, haha, and shown how to use their industrial strength breast pumps, and of course I forgot the instructions and did everything wrong. The other mothers all ignored me and each other so I flagged down a nurse and was eventually able to produce a few drops.

I wasn't able to see Shuma again as the daytime visiting hours had ended, so we went back to the midwife clinic. That damned junior midwife from this morning bumped into us and immediately asked my MIL to pay her back. My MIL had no idea what she was talking about, since I hadn't mentioned it to her. Why should I, when I'd already told the midwife my husband would be paying her back that night? What an absolute bitch. But my MIL paid. She had brought thank-you presents, in the traditional Japanese manner. At the big hospital earlier the present had been kindly refused, but the midwife accepted the present with barely a thanks. This is when I started to regret my choice of birth venue.

Here are some pictures Hideaki took on a visit late that night:

The next day Atsuko came to visit (her mother had already flown back to Osaka) and together we went to the hospital. Have I mentioned she was pregnant too? 7 months along at that point, I think, and busy with 5 year-old Marya, but she took so much time to help us out during Shuma's stay in the hospital. With Hideaki so busy, me still kind of out of it (and not very competent in Japanese) and both sets of parents so far away, she was an incredible help.

Big surprise- he was out of his incubator! I was allowed to hold him for the first time.

They brought Shuma and I to the nursing room, I would rather have just done it there with Atsuko to help but they insisted. We weighed him, then the nurse give brisk instructions which were rather hard to follow but after a few tries it worked, and we were left alone with instructions to watch the clock and switch sides after 10 minutes. The nurse came back and I hadn't switched sides, because he was still nursing and I didn't know how to get him off and wasn't sure I could get him back on to the other side, but I was reprimanded and made to switch but he fell asleep right away and wouldn't nurse. So we weighed him and he had drunk enough to satisfy the nurse so we wheeled him back and she showed me how to feed him sugar water in a bottle, then I put him back in his little bed and was brought to the pumping station. I did a little better this time.

We were about to get a taxi to head back to my clinic when I saw that the driver of the first taxi in line was the awful lady from the day before! I told Atsuko we couldn't take that one but it would also be rude to try to take the second taxi so we went back into the hospital and waited in the cafeteria. I ordered iced coffee and an ice cream too and it was the first time since starting labour that I'd had: coffee; cold food or drink; anything sweet. None of those things are allowed by the midwives, cold drinks chill the baby you know, and sweets and cold food reduce milk production. 100% bullshit of course, so I was glad that horrible taxi driver had been there because this unexpected treat was heavenly. I honestly felt so much better after eating, and of course much of that was from being able to hold and nurse my baby but I think the caffeine and sheer pleasure of eating something nice also played a huge part. I felt the best I'd felt in days.

Before we left the doctor had given us another update and asked why I still hadn't brought any pumped milk. He seemed a bit angry about it and it kind of jarred me into standing up for myself a little, so when I got back to the clinic I demanded the pump. It was the head midwife I spoke to and she was actually surprised that I didn't already have it. I'm glad she felt that way but wish she could have trained her midwives a bit better. And I was also kind of disappointed: with the caffeine and my new found courage I was all prepared to argue. So I produced a little and they kept it in the freezer and that night I asked to visit Shuma with Hideaki. It was very late at night and he didn't think it was a good idea but the midwife said it was OK so I went and brought along the milk I'd pumped (they'd managed to round up some ice packs- the hospital only accepts frozen milk).

This was the first time Hideaki held Shuma.

I was eager to nurse him again and asked if I could do it right there in the NICU. Not just to show Hideaki but also because moving to the nursing room was bothersome, he still had an IV so I had to wheel him in his big awkward cart and I was still exhausted. So because it was night and there were few (male) doctors round the nurse said it was OK just this one time. The nursing room nurse was brought and she was even stricter than the one I'd had that afternoon, and she barked a series of orders ("Hold him like this" "Keep your back straight" "Place his mouth on your nipple" "Back straight!") that were confusing and contradictory and he wouldn't drink. I was trying to follow the instructions I'd read in my baby books but they were different from what this nurse was telling me. She was obsessed with posture. I knew that I was supposed to bring Shuma to me rather than bend over to get to him, but I also thought maybe I should just try to get him to latch and the posture would work itself out later. Anyway it just wasn't working and Shuma started crying and so did I and the nurse said our time was up. It was awful, I'd been so proud and ready to show Hideaki and was crushed that I couldn't.

So we fed him some of the milk I'd expressed earlier and we were taught how to change his diaper, and then I went and pumped. Only a few ml's, but the most I'd produced so far. I was so very tired, it was around 3:00 and we had to wait forever for a taxi so I was regretting coming and decided not to visit at night anymore, I'd leave that up to Hideaki.

Back at the clinic things were pretty boring and lonesome between visits. The day after I had Shuma a woman gave birth in the room across from mine with her family present. I heard the kids playing and the midwives coming and going but nothing else, she didn't give so much as a whimper. It was quiet all evening until suddenly I heard a feeble cry and knew she'd given birth. I could hear all the congratulations and happy sounds and it made me feel sad. Over the next 5 days one or two more women gave birth, and they were always surrounded by midwives and everyone looked so happy. But they stayed away from me, maybe because they were busy with the other moms or maybe they thought it best to leave in peace, but I was so lonely. And I had so many questions. This would have been the time to have them teach me how to dress the baby and use my sling and all of that, but they only came in to examine me or massage my breasts or bring my food.

Ugh, the breast massage. That's a thing they do in Japan, believing it helps milk production and prevents blocked ducts, and I hated it. It was painful and felt invasive and just made me miss my baby. I especially hated it when they talked to me during the massage. I don't consider myself a prude, but having a midwife make conversation while her hands are painfully squeezing my sore breasts just felt wrong.

The midwives managed to time their infrequent visits perfectly, and were always catching me doing something naughty. Like reading. "You shouldn't use your eyes too much, you won't be able to make enough milk". Or using my iPhone (same reason). Or eating a mini chocolate bar my husband had smuggled in. "Sweets are bad for your milk". Or pumping "Too much pumping will tire you out". Or using the air conditioning. Or not wearing socks, or not covering up enough with a blanket, or lying down the wrong way, or drinking a cold drink. It was ridiculous, and I started hating them all.

I was having nightmares and also having extremely gloomy thoughts. I'm not sure if it was a mild form of postnatal depression (does it even happen that soon?) or just a result of all the crap I was going through. I wouldn't really even have admitted at the time that I was going through crap, after all my baby was healthy and being well taken care of and isn't it wonderful that I live in this time and place as in other times and other places Shuma would have died. I tried to be grateful but really I think I was hurting from the awful birth, and the separation from my baby and the resentment I felt towards the women who were supposed to be caring for me. I don't know.

There was a large cemetery nearby that I passed every time I took a taxi to visit Shuma. Zoshigaya Cemetery is actually quite famous and is the resting place of a number of notable people, including Lafcadio Hearn, but every time I passed it I thought about death. Vaguely, or specifically, like imagining burying my dead baby and stuff like that. It sounds over-dramatic now, but at the time those thoughts were real and distressing. Especially in the first few days when we really weren't sure if he'd be OK. One of the many nightmares I had involved me witnessing a cat get run over. It flew through the air and landed with a splat and I knew it was dead but I had to hurry on somewhere so couldn't stop. On my way back from whatever dream errand I was on I looked for the cat to bury it properly, and came upon its corpse. It was only bones and a bit of gore, surrounded by fur and bloody disposable chopsticks. I woke up crying and outraged that people had feasted on this poor cat. Such a ridiculous dream, yet I kept seeing it again and getting angry about it for days. Weird, right? I must have been much more stressed out than I realized.

Little by little I heard the details of the birth: Shuma's official birth weight was 3854 grams, but because they'd weighed him after he'd started breathing (by which point they'd suctioned about 200 grams of fluid from his lungs and tummy) and he'd already pooped, they said his real weight would have been over 4 kilograms. Yay me! He was 50 cm in length and had a head circumference of 36cm, which didn't mean much to me but impressed the midwives. My labour had lasted fourteen hours in total, which is about average, but of course it felt much longer. I had experienced heavy bleeding during labour, which probably explained my continuing exhaustion and weakness. I suppose in a real hospital I would have given me an IV and more substantial food to get my strength back, but here the meals were light with a very small amount of protein: like two chicken wings or a tiny slice of fish. Ideal for a small Japanese woman eager to lose weight after a regular birth, but not really what I should have been eating. Luckily I had brought my prenatal vitamins so self-medicated with those, and continued to have treats at the hospital after visiting Shuma. Of course the visits themselves took a toll and I always felt tired out.

Physically tired out, but mentally? The visits were wonderful. It was so obvious that there was nothing wrong with our baby, and I started believing the doctor when he said Shuma was just there as a precaution. He still couldn't say when he's be released, he said it could be up to a month, but I knew he was in a safe place and I wasn't worried about him.

Well, nursing was a bit of a worry, but it was improving every day. When Shuma was 4 days old he was moved to the GCU (Growth Care Unit, for the babies that are too well for the NICU but not quite well enough to room in with their moms). When I fed him that visit we did well, and the after nursing weight so impressed the nurse (this was one of the nice ones) that she stopped everyone on our way back to tell them how much he'd drunk. She was just so excited and that really cheered me up. I think that's maybe one of the jobs of obstetric nurses, cheering up worried parents. I must say that although I had a couple of stinkers, most of the nurses there were excellent. Shuma was well taken care of, so much so that I felt guilty. Especially his first three days in the NICU, with most of the babies half his size and some so tiny and weak-looking it broke your heart. And here is big, pink Shuma with a cry that would seem loud even coming from an adult. I couldn't help but feel bad.

There was a log-in book that visiting parents had to sign, and you could see all the other babies and their visitors. Most had a parent visiting a few times a day, but a few had none or nearly none. Maybe the mothers were in bad shape themselves, or the parents had given up hope, or the baby was so seriously ill that no visitors were allowed, or I don't know. It was just so sad to think about. On one visit I saw a new baby admitted, big and healthy looking like Shuma but with a cleft palate. The parents looked worried, I guess that's just how Hideaki had looked when he came that first night. The baby was totally adorable. It cried every waking moment though, and over the next few days all it did was cry, not as loud as Shuma but just as heartbreaking to witness, and every once in a while a passing nurse would put her finger in its mouth to sooth it, but she'd have to move on after a few moments.

So here we are on day 5, a Friday. I was released from the midwifery house, thank fucking god, and Hideaki managed to leave work early so we could visit Shuma together. Shuma was doing better and better, but one of the nurses was really concerned about his crying and his failure to gain weight. I wasn't worried about his weight, as he was doing exactly as my books said he should be doing and my milk had come in and I was pretty much bursting. But the crying was something I felt bad about, it must have been annoying for the nurses and distressing to the other parents and babies. She urged us to allow them to use formula and I asked them to let us think about it until the next visiting hours. So Hideaki and I went out for dinner (real food, yay!) and I called a La Leche League leader I had met a few months ago at a meeting. She was very supportive and gave me tips on increasing my milk production and dealing with the doctors and nurses, but wisely avoided telling me whether or not to allow formula. So when we went back I told the nurse I'd visit as much as possible and pump like crazy to get my milk production up, and to please continue with the sugar water until I was making enough milk. She agreed, but you could tell she thought we were negligent.

Luckily I had used my time alone in my room to set up a breast pump rental. Hideaki and I went home, and if felt so strange to arrive alone, but we weren't worried. We knew he was where he should be, but we still felt a bit lonely. Every couple of hours I pumped with the crappy little hand-held pump I had been smart enough to buy before the birth, and then the next day the fancy rental pump arrived. I had lots of milk to bring on our visit that day.

On the weekend (which meant Hideaki and I could go together) we did two long visits each day. The hospital is far from our apartment: a bus and two train rides away, and because I was still weak we could only go once a day, but we stayed long enough for two visiting slots with a meal in between. Very tiring for me but rewarding and Shuma was always so content when we left.

About that head. We at first just assumed that it was stretched out from the delivery, like we'd heard (the trip through the birth canal squeezes the baby's head and can stay like that for a few days). But eventually the doctor explained that it was a birth injury called "caput succedaneum". According to Healthline: "A long, difficult labor with a lot of pushing can cause this condition... Scalp swelling may be more likely if the amniotic sac membranes rupture early in labor. In some cases, if the membranes rupture very early or if there is too little fluid in the amniotic sac, the mother’s pelvic bones will put pressure on the infant’s head." Well bingo. I would also find out that I had a bruised tailbone, caused by the same pressure. I found this out when a midwife caught me sitting wrong (naughty me) and I explained it hurt to sit normally and she said "Oh, that's because you have a really bad bruise there". Yeah, thanks for telling me. Anyway, both my bruise and his swollen conehead lasted a few weeks. I stopped feeling sorry for myself when I heard from my sister that her son had actually broken her tailbone during childbirth.

And then it was Monday, and Hideaki went off to work leaving me to pump and dread having to visit by myself. Of course Atsuko had offered to help but I was afraid she was exhausting herself so I was ready to go alone, but then the phone rang and it was the doctor saying Shuma was ready to be released and could I come pick him up today please?

So I entered into a flurry of planning. Hideaki couldn't leave work early enough so Atsuko had to come after all. I tried calling up the special taxi service we'd registered with, whose taxis come with car seats, but they require a reservation a day in advance so couldn't help me. But what could I do, ask the hospital to keep him for another day? We'd have to carry him home in a regular taxi. So I went and Atsuko and Marya met me there and helped me with the paperwork and I was relieved to find out that I didn't owe a million dollars. In fact Shuma's whole hospital stay cost us nothing (as opposed to the midwife clinic, which cost over 600,000 yen- about $6000 Canadian).

Shuma was released and we were allowed to wait in the waiting room until Hideaki to finish work, and there Atsuko taught me how to use my sling, oversaw my first solo diaper change, and watched us nurse for the first time without supervision. I wished I could have taken her home with us because there was so much I hadn't been able to learn, but she had her own birth coming up soon and her own child to care for (who was intently watching everything, in anticipation of her brother's arrival).

Hideaki arrived and we said good-bye to Atsuko and Marya and we caught a taxi home. I was relieved it was all over, but knew that also it was only just starting.

To be continued (maybe in another 3 years?).

Messy Bed

This is what I saw when I went to check on Shuma before I went to bed several nights ago:

He started off nicely tucked in, with just him, his pillow, blanket and a few stuffed animals in bed. And then I guess he proceded to empty his toy box onto his bed. I guess he had had some trouble falling asleep and needed something to do? It didn't look very comfortable so I put away the larger, harder toys before tucking him back in and vowed to tire him out the next day so he would fall asleep right away.

And of course this is what happened the next night:

How did he even get all those toys into his bed while still managing to leave just enough space for hismelf? How did he fall asleep surrounded by it all?

This time I just left all the toys as they were. It must have been pretty uncomfortable because a few hours later he crawled in to my bed, and he hasn't smuggled any extra toys to bed since then.