2s, 1d, welcome number three!
One or two people have mentioned to me that it's been a while since I last posted and so I have succumbed to the flattering impression that people want to read what I have to say. I can barely remember what I last wrote, but I think it was about my up-coming caesarian which is now - incredibly - 9 weeks past. As it happens, it was not particularly scary - although Paulo was so pale as we waited in theatre for me to be anaesthetised that I thought he was going to pass out ("Who's looking pale?" the obstetrician called out in alarm, and Paulo told me not to worry if he had to slip out for a minute, which I vigorously protested, but which didn't actually happen, I think the big blue screen helped him stay put and stay conscious, and he held my hand throughout, but I digress) - but it was pretty weird. I didn't like the pure medicated nature of the procedure, nor particularly the way the obstetrician had to tug and push and wrench to get the baby out. It was all distinctly unnatural, and I find it strange that women should choose to do it more than once. Give me a vaginal birth with an epidural any day.
That said, the recovery was not as bad as I expected, in fact it was easy, although not being able to drive for 6 weeks was an absolute pain in the *rse, and most importantly of all my gorgeous little baby girl arrived safe and well. As it happens she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck three times which may be why she couldn't turn over and which could have made a delivery dangerous, so all in all the c-section was definitely a good thing.
How can I have got this far without posting a photo? Here she is, little Eva at 4 days, as sweet a little bundle of joy as anyone could wish for: 
Of course, she looks just like her father, as did the boys when they were born. I am resigned to my role as rent-a-womb.
And then, just as we thought we could relax and enjoy her, the fun and games started. A paediatrician who saw her on day 2 thought she looked dysmorphic, with her widely-set eyes and large head. "Have you met my husband and my sons?" I asked in vain. We were dispatched to see a whole bunch of specialists, including a geneticist who took one look at the lot of us, measured everyone's heads and sent us home. When they all gave her a clean bill of health she went on to fail her hearing test, twice. Cue referral to the ear, nose and throat hospital, where it was revealed that all she had was a little fluid behind her ear-drum, due to a cold, that should clear up by itself. (In between we slipped off to sunny Portugal for a week - lovely - but there were 10 days during which we were contemplating full or partial deafness.) Phew. But what's this little lump that has popped up in her groin? A hernia, no less, that required surgery.
At this point the gods - or to be precise Vulcan - must have taken pity on me for they caused my flight home to be cancelled, giving us time for the op and a free re-scheduling. So for the rest of you inconvenienced by the Icelandic eruption, sorry, it was our fault.
Eva is now absolutely fine, or at least seems to be, and we leave for Moz tomorrow. I have missed both the boys' birthdays (they left with Paulo 4 weeks ago, and are both smitten with their little sister), but I come laden with presents which should make up for it. See you there!
Labels: birthdays, Eva, Joaquim, Paulo, Sebastian, sisters
posted by Rebecca @ 1:20 pm
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