talk talk talk talk talk

One sound conveys so much.

“Eh eh” means, “Mama, hey you there – mama!”

It sometimes means “please follow me” or “I want this toy in the lounge!” or “my nappy needs changing”.

“Hey” in our home definitely means – “you better come quick, I’m doing something I know you don’t like!” usually standing on the table or pulling all my books off the desk. It’s her way of saying “I want attention now!”

But in the last two months the Chi speaks.

We’ve moved on from the “no no” to everything stage.

From hit and miss babble, to “Up Up Up” as we go up the stairs “Step Step” as we walk down steps. From “mooo” and “baaaa” and “raaaaaa” to concise premeditated speech. I get “seeeet her” (sit here – with additional hand pats on the chair or cushion she wants to sit on) and even the occasional “yes” in response to a question. (“Do you want a banana or milk, or a biscuit” guarantees that one.)

We describe her day and she makes the connections. I say “Did we go to art class today” and she will nod, run to the fridge and point to her latest creation. We sing a song and she attempts the actions. We play with her tea set and she mimics pouring tea.

As she gains better control and understanding of how to shape and make sounds her vocab list expands dramatically – today she can say:

1. Eyes
2. Ears
3. Mouth
4. Teeth
5. Head
6. Hair
7. Arm
8. Toes
9. Back
10. Peas
11. Hop
12. Cat
13. Flush
14. Sit here
15. Woof
16. Vooom (a car – followed by something that sounds much like “get out my way!”)
17. Meow
18. Moo
19. Baa
20. Yes
21. No
22. Up
23. Down
24. Papapa (smelly)
25. Nappy
26. Tush (bottom)
27. Hey!
28. Hiya
29. Byeeeee
30. Hug
31. Aba
32. Mama
33. Ouch
34. Hot
35. Der (there)
36. Dat (that)
37. Oh dear
38. Hop
39. Mummiyummiummi
40. Kicking
41. Dere you are
42. Mine
43. Me
44. Flower
45. Mine
46. Me
    

Tomorrow she will say a few more.

We sat at the table together for breakfast on Sunday and chatted and she took something from E and said “mine”. She pointed to herself and said “me” I am amazed. I know she hears us say “yours” and “mine” and “you” and “me” all the time but the leap to understanding the rules of language – that she needs to invert the words in order to use them correctly and with meaning is a difficult one, and she did it without any assistance or correction. My father learned English as a second language in his late 30’s – he struggled with correct pronoun use for years.

Our reading together has changed too – no longer a passive exercise where we read and point for her, it’s all interactive – she points to things first, and describes the things she knows. We see a clock in her book and she points to the clock on the kitchen wall. She smells the pictures of a flower and kisses the babies goodnight.

Now can anyone tell me what I need to do to get her to sleep through?

Magic is happening!

I think airports and train stations are liminal places. So many people on different journeys, travelling in different directions,  arriving, departing, heightened emotions of joy and sadness - massive crossroads where magic happens.

Chi and I were travelling from Johannesburg to Cape Town in December (2005). It was high summer, the airport was busy and we were promised delays.  Standing in front of me in the queue was another young mother travelling with her baby daughter  and the grandmother. We had some idle chit chat while we waited and went of in different directions after checking in, meeting up again at the boarding gate. It was crowded, and we were delayed by two hours.  We made a space on the floor and the five of us ended up chatting - talking babies, comparing stories, sharing snacks... as you do. 

We found out that our babies were both eight months old - that they shared a name - same spelling.  Then we found out that they were born on the same day - my Chi at 2:50pm and her Chi at 3:50pm - but if you accounted for the one hour time difference between SA and London then both Chi's were born at the same time. 

It was strange - as we discovered each additional coincidence we laughed and got more excited - swept up by the magic these coincidences hinted at. So many of us share the same name, but it is not often that you get to meet someone that was born at the same time, day, and year and is then given the same name.  This other mother was not far different to me. We had different accents, but were similar in age, looks and build, both of us came from small rural African towns. Neither of us had any link to Italy or the Italian origin of the name, neither of us were naming her after a family relative.

Its an unusual coincidence.  Our current lives so separate - she was returning to her home town near Paarl after a week in Johannesburg and I was visiting girlfriends in Cape Town while on holiday in South Africa - our paths unlikely ever to cross again.

We did not exchange contact details, the bond formed between us not strong enough for us to feel the need to keep in touch but we did both feel that the coincidence was special in some way and we did both say that we would document the meeting - we took pictures and promised to tell our daughters the story, perhaps one day in the distant future two young woman on their life adventure will meet, discover they have the same name and then realise that their mothers met once long ago.

Day 120 2006, Better than a melon....

Mama says Om : ache!

I'm weaning. In fact, I have been weaning since March, determined to do this slowly to avoid trauma - or maybe I have hated letting go - whatever - its almost complete.

Today my darling baby approached my breast only once and barely put up a fight when I offered her the NUK instead.

We have cheated a little this past week - it's been a tough one for both of us - she's teething and has a cold and my hormones are running amok as my body prepares to change again - to re-establish its normal female cycle, no longer prioritising its resources and functions for the Chi.  On some days she pushed the bottle aside with force, her small soft hands thrusting down my shirt to show me clearly what she wanted and I felt a little surge of happiness - my daughter prefers me to powdered milk - and it feels like the ultimate compliment. 

I am unprepared for the overwhelming feelings of sadness - I hold my daughter in my arms and I stare down at her - eyes closed in that expression of contentment that she only gets when she breastfeeds - her hand drifting in the tendrils of my hair - pulling and playing with it as she has from when she was tiny - and I want to hold on to this moment forever.  Somehow the end of this beautiful thing we share shifts our relationship - she becomes more independent and I loose my tiny baby to toddler hood. 

Throughout my pregnancy I had been ambivalent about breastfeeding. The idea of my breasts producing food for my child seemed bizarre and I had heard the horror stories - but I reserved judgement - decided I would give it a try, and if it did not work I would be okay - formula had done me and all my siblings no harm, and there is something quite civilised about bottles. 

I read the books, attended a breastfeeding lecture, understood the value of breastfeeding and somewhere before the nine months were up I changed my views.  I was still nervous, but I was determined to take it slow and learn how to breastfeed my Chi - wanting to offer my child the most natural and appropriate food, made especially for her.

I made notes during our lecture. I came home and practised on the Stieff teddy we had brought her - memorising the mantra - "tummy to tummy, chest to chest, nose to nipple, breast is best".  I would go through my notes again and again in the days before the birth - the notes came with me to the hospital. I brought the paraphernalia - breast pads, breast pump - (ugh! - used once and tossed aside!) emollient cream, savoy cabbage in the fridge.

My daughter was put to my breast within half an hour of being born. That first surreal night, alone in our dimly lit cubicle at the hospital we continued to practise. Each time she squeaked I would pick her up and hold her - bring her to my breast and recite the mantra - read out my notes to her - asked her to open her mouth wider, allowing her to suckle for minutes at a time while I stared at her furrowed brow - getting used to the process - getting used to the ache.

I was amazed by the clear gold colostrum that seeped from my newly pneumatic breasts (hey - I'm normally a 32aa - have wanted to use that word to describe my breasts since I read 'Brave New World' a long long time ago... humour me!)

I thought after that first night that we had it sorted - then the milk came in and there was foot stamping, tears and a real concern that my breasts were going to split.  It got messy. It got wet. And the let down reflex felt like millions of tiny pin-pricks.  Books tell you that it should not hurt - they lie!  For days I would lie on the bed with my tiny, mewling, hungry child next to me and I would encourage her to latch on - all the while inching away from her open little mouth until eventually I would grit my lip and let her feed. I developed a ritual - rescue remedy, lashings of lanolin cream, watch, notebook, phone, TV controls, and a deep bloody breath.

I am not sure when it stopped hurting.  I am not sure when my breasts stopped filling up automatically when it was time for a feed and when the pins and needles stopped.  I am not sure when the process became so efficient that what had started as a 40 minute marathon turned into a five minute sprint. But it did - it got easier and easier and it was never a chore.  I loved that we could go anywhere without bottles and boiled milk and sterilizers.

Breastfeeding is in vogue - but women still get mixed messages - and the teaching in hospitals is practically inadequate.  The advice given to me from our NCT guest lecturer resonated deep - I chose to go back to her each time I had questions and she taught me to trust my baby, to trust my body and to challenge the statistics and growth charts based on formula fed babies from the 1970's. 

The World Health Organisation recommends breastfeeding for at least 2^1/4 years.  Many cultures continue breastfeeding until early infanthood - often because of necessity but studies are being carried out to examine the long term benefits of extended breastfeeding.   It is the original infant food - arriving on time, well packaged and beautifully presented.

There was a documentary on "extreme breastfeeding" on television in the UK a couple of months ago.  It caused quite a stir amongst all the mothers groups I flit about with - most of it negative, and I have to admit there was something squirm worthy in seeing a mother breastfeed a 5 year old girl. The documentary was skewed though. Voyeuristic in its approach with little or no discussion about the benefits of breastfeeding at any stage. I did enjoy one line in the documentary though and it stayed with me. A 12 year old girl who had breast fed until the age of 5 was asked if she could describe her mothers milk.  She said

    "... better than a melon. Better than a million mangos!"

Can a mother get a better compliment?

My heart aches the end to this stage of my relationship with my daughter.

Thursday 11th May 2006

Today I washing the dishes and dreaming out the window - when I turned around I found my daughter sitting in her high chair.  I had taken her out of it a couple of minutes earlier - so she had climbed up and in on her own. I took her out - and she promptly did it again. 5 times. Tackling it like a little rock climber, hooking her legs up and over the last rung and clinging onto the back of the chair. 

She doesn't look like a baby anymore.

After her lunch time milk and story I told her it was time for her nap and she did not wait for me to pick her up - she wiggled off the couch and followed me to her room - falling asleep within 5 minutes.  I stood and watched her sleep - watched my girl child with the biggest love in my heart.  

bumping baby

Update on Thu, April 27, 2006 at 08:48 by lia

The Chi loves two of my tops - she drapes them around herself every chance she get. Her latest trick is running aournd unable to see - and she has quite a good sense of her home environment.  We keep giggling at this clip and thought we would share it with you.