A is for My Daughter

My little girl’s name begins with an A. She is a five-year-old bundle of energy, a smart, inquisitive child, with a strong temper and a will of her own, but also with a tender, surprisingly vulnerable side.

She has become a little lady, tall and slim, with dark, glossy hair that is never long enough. Her features have changed in the past year, her face is thinner and more refined, and she’s grown so heavy I can no longer carry her in my arms. Part of me misses the toddler she used to be, and there’s a hint of sadness mingled with joy and satisfaction as every day my daughter is becoming more independent, and I am not as necessary as I once was. Most of the time, though, I am just happy to see her healthy and content, and enjoying the days of her childhood, safe in the knowledge that she is loved.

I have been challenged by her willful nature, her fearless determination colliding head on with the boundaries I have set, and our struggles with discipline have, more than once, left me feeling bruised and knocked about, but things are quiet now, we seem to have gained some maturity on her side, and calmness and perspective on mine.

I feel good about where we are, and watching her learn new things about people, and about the world in general is a pleasure and an exciting adventure.

Around the World in 80 Clicks

My friend Charlotte, who was my first blogging friend, has tagged me for a meme  for mothers who live in far away lands. I can answer the call perfectly, because I am a mother, and I am definitely in a far away land.

Five Things I Enjoy About Motherhood

1. On a hard day it’s difficult to think of one thing I enjoy, let alone five, but I always love how a hug can truly change my mood and make me happy. Even on the worst day, the sincere, eager embrace of my children does it for me: the clouds pass, the brow unfurls, the smile begins.
2. I enjoy the sense of purpose. I know that I am needed and wanted and that knowledge gives meaning to my life, regardless of anything else I may have to deal with as a woman, a wife and a human being.
3. One of the best things about being a mother is that I have someone to love, to shower with affection, someone who right now truly belongs to me and not only wants my love, but actually needs it.
4. The opportunity to mould a human being, to try to teach kindness, compassion, and a sense of honor. I look forward to the chance to cultivate a mind, to share the learning and the wonder, to see it all through my children’s eyes and explore the world afresh. I hope to instill in them the love of books, the respect for nature, the appreciation for beauty and peace, for words, music and art. There is so much to do and that is wonderful!
5. I feel safe having a family of my own. This little family of my own making is like my little nest, my niche in life, the rabbit hole that I can run to when things get tough. There will always be a connection between us, no matter how much distance there is, or how much time passes. I have it with my own parents, and I look forward to having that tie with my children as they grow up and become my dear friends.

I will not tag anyone, because it seems everyone I know is doing this meme, but if you feel it suits you, consider yourself tagged.

 

The right dose

My hands are full caring for two children these days. My baby boy is now six months old, and he is a placid, friendly child, with a ready smile and an easy temper. He is soft, like a pillow, with a tasty double chin and the promise of a dimple on his right cheek. He has learned to miss me when I leave the room, to cry loudly when I take a toy away, to sit up and to raise his arms when he wants to come to me. I am very grateful that he is healthy and happy, and the evenness of his temper allows me to care for my daughter with attention that is almost undiminished and unchanged by his arrival into our family circle.

Most of the time motherhood is a joy. It is very satisfying to feel that I am doing a good job, that my children are growing up in a healthy, stable environment and that I am giving them a happy childhood, but as much as I enjoy parenting, I am facing a challenge that is causing me much concern. My daughter, who will turn five in a few months, is a lively, intelligent little girl, eager to learn and happily exploring the world around her. She is also fearless, headstrong and very determined to have her own way and that is where my problem lies.

My approach to discipline is based on the idea that I am teaching my children how to live, and that every action I take regarding their upbringing should be a conscious decision. I believe in correcting bad habits and reinforcing good ones. I think children should be told when they do something wrong, but I always explain my thinking when I scold. I believe that teaching our values starts from the cradle, and so does the learning, because I don’t think unruly toddlers will suddenly turn into obedient, respectful young people.  I don’t spank, but I do raise my voice when nothing else will do, and I’ve used the naughty step with some success, at least to instill a hard-won sense of regret.

I am realistic enough to know that I shouldn’t expect obedience one hundred percent of the time, but I would like the limits that I have set to be respected and acknowledged. I want to be in charge,  and my daughter fights me for almost everything. If I tell her not to walk without shoes on the cold tile floor, I have to say it fifteen times a day and more. If it’s time for the t.v. to be off, there are tears and tantrums. Proper food was a daily battle until I gave up making myself miserable over it, an episode that deserves its own post.

My daughter questions everything. Every rule I set is tested, and although as I write this and she sleeps peacefully within view of my computer I feel I could be overreacting, I do not exaggerate when I say that every time she pushes the boundaries I have set, and every time she defies me, and every time I lose my cool over her disobedience, I am filled with a feeling that I can only describe as heartache.

How do I know when to let her be? How much should I expect from a child of four? Am I being unkind by setting so many rules, and what should I do when she breaks them? How much discipline is too much? And what if she cries? All these questions assail me and make me doubt myself.

Sometimes her tears break my heart and I feel awful, like a heartless witch who is stealing her childhood away, but then my instinctive response is no, I care too much about the kind of person she will turn out to be to let her grow up unchecked and without guidance, and I say to myself that I am doing the right thing and that I will give her the benefit of my advice, regardless of how hard it is for me to bear.

My greatest fear is that I will trade her obedience for her love and that by being the one who sets the limits, I will destroy my relationship with my daughter. Nothing prepares you for parenthood, not even wholehearted dedication. It is a constant, never-ending effort. I liken it to some ancient craft that takes years of minute, painstaking, repetitive labor. It’s the true bit of ivory.

I feel that essentially I am right, that limits are good, and that maintaining standards of behavior is important, but after much thought and internal debate I realize that my daughter may respond better if I am gentler in my approach, softer in my delivery and more tender in my expression. I express my love for her all the time, many times a day, but finding the right dose of discipline will be my main focus in this new year. She obviously resists me when she thinks I am too strict, and perhaps I am, so I have decided to let some things slide and rethink my priorities regarding some issues that are relatively minor. I remember a woman I knew who used to say that her daughter couldn’t pick and choose when to obey her, but with a strong-willed child like my little girl, I have come to accept that less conflict is more important than total submission. My goal is not to control her and simply make her do what I say, but rather to teach the principle behind the rule.

I should not forget that there is love in discipline and that I should allow it to come through, even when I scold. I will try not to forget that I am the adult, and that it is up to me to set the tone of my relationship with my children.

38 weeks

I am four days away from a scheduled c-section. My doctor thinks it’s the best option, as the birth of my daughter four years ago ended with emergency surgery. I had an ultrasound a few weeks ago and judging by the size of the baby, his weight was estimated at 8 pounds 9 ounces. If a baby gains an average of half an ounce a day, I could have another ten pound baby by week’s end!

The ultrasound also showed that my baby has managed to loosely wrap the umbilical cord around his neck. It looks like it’s only one turn, but I confess I feel more confident delivering in the more controlled environment of a cesarean. I have no idea what childbirth is like here in Pakistan once you enter the birthing room.

So far I have had to stress certain points that are not negotiable for us: 1) total anesthesia is not an option. The doctor says women are more comfortable if they are not aware of their surroundings as they deliver a child, but that the choice is mine. I cannot understand how anyone would want to be totally drugged as their baby enters the world. I want to be aware at that moment!

2) My child will not be given formula at any time. This is a concern because I will spend some time in the recovery ward, and babies are kept in the nursery until the mother is transferred to her room. The issue of breastfeeding has been a very interesting one for me while living in Pakistan. I remember conversations I had with my yoga teacher back in America around the time that my daughter was conceived. She and I had the impression that people in Third World countries have no need for lactation consultants, pumps, special pillows and all the fancy stuff that Western women surround themselves with, because they are more in touch with nature, more aware of what really matters. I idealized what I didn’t know, and managed to undervalue women at home who are trying to do the best for their children.

Getting to know mothers in Pakistan has made me see things differently. In short, breastfeeding seems to be out of fashion here. I know a girl who was brought her child for a feed in the hospital, and she was shocked. She actually asked the nurse “feed him from where?”. Feeding your child with imported, expensive formula is a status symbol here, and a few months ago I was present during a conversation between two sets of parents, in which they actually compared the price, the brand and the size of the can of powder they feed their children.

Of course, whenever I think about Pakistan, I always qualify my thoughts by remembering that this society is very stratified, not only along economic lines, but ethnically and regionally as well, and even depending on the role that religion plays in people’s life. What can be said about one section of society is not likely to apply to another. I would say that there can be very few general statements made about Pakistan that turn out to be accurate, so I should say that my observations pertain to the people I know and to the social setting in which I live.

3) I have also had to make a point of demanding answers to my questions, however trivial. Patients appear to keep largely silent when they go to the doctor, and though mine always gives me a longer time than the five minutes he seems to give the other women, I have had to insist on detailed explanations a few times. I want to know exactly what things mean, how things will proceed and what will happen once they do. I also have to keep reminding the doctor and the staff that my knowledge of Urdu is limited, because people here have a tendency to forget that, even those who know you personally. I am very used to it, because even when I lived in the U.S. I noticed this particular cultural trait, as entire conversations went on in my presence in a language that I did not understand. It’s fine in some settings, but not with my doctor, who has full command of English.

Anyway, I don’t want to sound fussy. I am quite happy to deliver our baby boy here. It really would not have been feasible to go back to the U.S. for such a purpose, with no insurance, no home of my own and a four year old in tow.

I went to the U.S. Consulate some time ago, and the application process to get an American birth certificate for an American baby born abroad seems straightforward. I don’t anticipate any problems in that regard, and that really was the deciding factor in our decision to stay here for the birth, because American citizenship for our child is important to us.

Back on track

My daughter felt better today, with no fever and very little coughing. In exchange for that, she was weepy and fractious, but I’ll take the trade-off gladly.

We have finished one bottle of antibiotics, but I bought another one today just to make sure the infection is really gone. I’m afraid of them, but they seem to help, and I also feel limited by the choices we have here. The truth is that I don’t know what else to do.

She still sounds a little bit congested, and I have a feeling that that lingering stuffiness is the problem and the cause of this recurring cycle. It seems she is sick for one week, well the next one and then sick again.

I’m trying to build up her immune system so the cycle doesn’t start, but she doesn’t like vitamins so I put on my serious face and force her to chew the tablet. I’ve also increased her vegetables and fruits, but it’s a struggle.

All kind of fatalistic scenarios have come into my head this past month, and I remember that when she was born, the relief of having a healthy, thriving baby didn’t last long. Other worries of what might happen took its place, and I realize now that as a parent, you never really stop worrying, regardless of how old your children are.

Toys

Toy world 

This is my daughter’s room. We decided to have these shelves built because we like our little girl to be able to see her toys, and it is a much neater arrangement than a toy chest.

I just moved the books to the bottom shelves, and transferred her little animals to the now-empty book case. I’m still working on organizing the top shelves, but the drawers now hold her toys separated by groups, with coloring books in one, building blocks in another, etc.

Some of the toys are relics from my childhood, like Pluto and the two big white teddy bears. I also have my last baby doll, but I’ve put that away for the present.

I wonder sometimes if we have too many toys. My daughter is not a destructive child, but cares for and appreciates each one of her toys. It’s heartwarming to see her play. She makes up her own little world.

I don’t actually buy toys all the time. I try to think about what she needs as she grows, about her interests, and what I’d like to encourage in her, so I feel comfortable with abundance. It’s not taken lightly in our house.