Anders in his new Liverpool kit

Anders, aged 10+ months in his new LFC kit

Oops.

The kit isn't as big as I thought it would be.   Maybe I should have bought another size up.

Here is my little Anders, looking absolutely fabulous in his kit.  But then again, it IS an LFC kit so how can anyone not look fabulous in it!  My two sons suit the red of Liverpool, they do.

Anders' new LFC kit

Anders' new LFC kit, Mar 2014

When Connor was born, friends in Scotland sent us a baby Liverpool FC kit.  Maybe it's hard for you to understand if you're not a footie fan but I absolutely loved seeing my son wearing the kit.  Even more so when he was posing with a football.   At that time, there was a huge hoo-haa on fan forums regarding the lack of local boys in our club and I had daydreams of my son (who's half-Liverpudlian) being one of the "local boys" in the starting eleven one day. 

When Anders came along, I didn't really think about buying him his own LFC kit.  After all, the one Connor wore still looked brand new and it fitted our Anders perfectly now.  I had learnt the hard way that infants grow out of clothing very very quickly and it's best to not spend a fortune on their clothes quite yet.

But then I spied this kit at 50% off.  The bargain hunter and Liverpool fan in me could not resist.  I pulled out the credit card right away and bought the kit.  

It arrived last week, all shiny and new and I was SO pleased with it.  Poor Anders.... being the younger child, he's always been in hand-me-downs and we've barely bought anything for him that's all his.  

Until this kit arrived.  This is HIS.  It's all new, never been worn and it's my gift to my younger son, one for him to keep and maybe pass on to his own son.  

I can't wait for him to grow big enough to fit this kit.  It says on the label 12-18 months but the sizing is so generous, it looks like it can fit a 2yo easily.  I don't mind.... happy to have clothing last him as long as possible!

You'll never walk alone, my little Anders.

...and we have lift-off!

Anders had been trying for weeks to figure out this crawling thing.

He knew it involved getting up on all fours and moving arms and legs.  But he couldn't figure out how to coordinate the arms and legs bit.  And because his arms were stronger than his legs, he found himself going backwards all the time when he tried to move.  The harder he tried to go forwards, the further backwards he went.  To amuse ourselves, Daddy and I would sometimes put Anders on our smooth floor and then wave goodbye as he tried to crawl to us but ended up in the far corner behind the tv.

I know.

BAD PARENTS.

And then it happened last weekend.

We had forward movement!  Hurray!

Both sets of grandparents were summoned onto Skype and when the call connected, they were greeted by the sight of their youngest grandson crawling.  My in-laws and my parents were so thrilled.  A video was later posted on Facebook so that they can relive it over and over again.

We celebrated Anders' new-found mobility enthusiastically.

One week on, I'm a little less enthusiastic and more than a little worn out.  I've forgotten what trouble babies can get themselves into once they're mobile!

Next biggie - walking!

My two front teeth!

Anders, with two tiny front teeth

After weeks of agitation and frantic chewing on just about anything and everything, my little Anders is finally the proud owner of two front teeth.  And they appeared in time for Christmas too!  See if you can spot them in the pic above, he's got two little teeth on his lower gums. 

As I recall, Connor had no problems with teething.  He chewed more things but that was it.  We didn't have any sleep disruption, any extra tantrums or fretting.

But Anders!  It was like permanent PMS but in a baby.  His entire routine went out of the window and only settled when his teeth started to poke out.   

I thought we would get some respite but apparently, he's got MORE coming out soon.  His top two front teeth look like they'll be here in time for Chinese New Year which is the end of Jan 2014.

Anders' birth story

I've just realised I never posted Anders' birth story, the way I did Connor's 5 years ago.  So here we go.

There are some parallels with Connor's birth story.  We moved to UK when I was approximately 16 weeks pregnant with Anders - almost the same stage we moved to Jakarta when I was pregnant with Connor in 2008.  Obama was elected President of the United States the day before Connor's birth... and re-elected shortly before I discovered I was pregnant with Anders.  So I am a) never going to move to another country ever again and b) thank God this is Obama's last term as POTUS because I seriously cannot afford another baby!

Anyway, I decided to have a planned C-section for Anders.  It was mainly for practical reasons as we had to consider we now had another child to take care of and unlike KL, childcare is not that easy to arrange here.  But I have to confess another reason was my own terror.  I will always remember the terror I'd felt 5 years ago, realising that with each contraction I had, Connor's heart rate was slowing.  That was why we had an emergency C-section.

That fear has never left me and I could not face it again with my Anders.  So I decided for a c-section again.  I was given a set of pamphlets by the hospital to read through before I made my mind up so that I knew exactly what I was going in for.  Once we reached the decision to go ahead, they booked me in for the procedure in my 39th week and I met the medical team who would be handling it.

In many ways, it was much more relaxing as we now knew when the baby would be coming... assuming he didn't arrive earlier!  We arranged for childcare, Daddy knew exactly what dates he needed to take off work, I packed my bag knowing when we would need it, we knew Daddy could come into the operation theatre to be with me... I felt like a lot of uncertainty had been taken care of.   The date chosen by the medical team was 12 June and I was quite amused because that was the date I would have chosen as well had I been given the chance.  It just seemed like a nice sequence of numbers to me.

On the day of the operation, we dropped Connor off at a friend's.  Dear Hubby and I then went to the hospital where we had to wait for a really long time.  There were two other women in the same waiting room with me, both also scheduled for procedures on the same day.  Even though I knew it was happening, I was still nervous.

Mine was scheduled at noon.  About a quarter to, I was called and told I could change into the hospital gown.  Yucks, I hate that garment.  We still took a picture of me in it though... the last picture of me pregnant and whale-like, beaming at the thought of meeting our second child.  I have to go dig it up, it's in another computer.

At noon, I was wheeled in.  The anaes... er... how to spell? - the person who knocks you out chatted with me as they prepped me for the operation.  After I was ready, Dear Hubby was allowed in to see me.  It's pretty weird.  I had lost sensation so I couldn't feel pain or cold.  But I could feel if someone pulled or tugged.

And that was what the operation was like.  I could feel someone pressing and tugging but no pain.  Like someone rummaging in a drawer... and I'm the drawer! Weird as hell.  All through, I chatted with Dear Hubby and the anaes... erm.. however you spell it.  Altogether a much more pleasant experience than Connor's birth!

We kept asking "Is the baby out yet?"  "Is he okay?" Each time we were assured the baby was doing fine and no, he wasn't out yet. Finally, the doctor said, "Here he comes!" I felt one final tug and he lifted our baby boy high up for us to see.  He was pink, covered in whitish stuff... and then he peed all over the doctor who'd just brought him into the world.  Whoops.

I'll never forget the relief I felt when I heard his first cry.  He's okay, I thought.  He's okay.  I looked over to my husband.  He was looking at our son with tears in his eyes and a big smile on his face.

They wrapped him up and brought him to me.  How tiny he was!  I'd forgotten how tiny newborns are.  I kissed him tearfully, I was so relieved everything had gone well and that he was here safe and healthy.  It'd been such a stressful few months - the visa dingdong, the move, looking for a new home, moving in... I'd been so worried for Anders.  Dear Hubby cuddled him and Anders looked so very, very small and new in daddy's hands.

After they'd stitched me up, Anders followed me into the recovery room while Daddy went to change back into his normal clothes and drove off to get Connor.

It was a grey cloudy day in Aberdeen that day but I had my own little ray of sunshine.

It was almost 4pm before Connor got to meet his baby brother.  When I saw Connor, he just seemed so grown up and enormous to me.  This morning when I'd kissed him goodbye, he'd been my little boy.  Now standing next to the bassinet and peering at his new baby brother, he seemed so tall, so big, so knowing.   No one told me things would change like that.  I wasn't prepared for it.

And just like that, my world became a little bigger, a little brighter, a little busier.

Daddy, Connor, Anders... and me.

Anders at 3 months

Anders, 3 months old.  Shot Sept 2013

HELP!  There is a bear in the house!

The bear is the reason why this blog has been dead for so long.  Bear + older brother starting school + housework = Mummy desperately juggling everything.  If Baby Bear hadn't come along, I'd be having my feet up right now instead of sneaking off to write this post while he's taking a morning nap.

Seriously, hats off to all the mums who do this without any help.  I'm lucky that Connor is now in school full time so it's a little easier as I only have Baby Bear here to worry about for most of the day.  I don't think I would be quite so perky if their age gap had been smaller and Connor was still at home most of the day.

Autumn is coming and it was really cold and windy a few nights ago.  So I popped my little Anders into this and he was so cute, I squealed the house down.  I snapped a few pics and they've been making their way round the world as proud Papa and Mama have been emailing them to friends and family everywhere.

I get really tired and I get cranky from all the work and the stress but when I see him smiling up at me like that, boy... I forget it all very quickly.

Love you, my little baby bear.

Spot the Difference

Can you guess which one is Anders and which is a Minion?

It's not hard.

Honest.

I've found a babysitter!

Anders, 6 weeks old and Connor.  July 2013

Anders was crying when I left him to wash my hands after changing his diaper.

When I came back, his older brother had climbed up on our bed to play with him and Anders was gurgling happily at him and smiling away.

I think I've just found my babysitter.

There is no D in Denmark

About two years ago, a friend of ours told us that there is no "D" sound in Denmark when you pronounce it in the Danish language.  She is half-Danish and spoke Danish so I guess she must be right.  But it seemed quite hilarious to me considering that Denmark (and Danish) starts with the letter D.  She explained that Danish is one of those languages where you don't pronounce everything as it looks.

Two days ago,  Dear Hubby was chatting with our neighbour.  I'd met her a few days earlier when I was out with the boys, Connor on his bike and Anders in his stroller.  When she asked about our new baby's name, Dear Hubby answered proudly, "AND-ers.  My wife thought a Danish name would be nice as my family is originally Faroese."

"Ah!" she beamed.  "AHN-ers!"  Turns out she's Danish.

And that's how they pronounce it in Danish because...

...yes all together now...

There is no "D" in Denmark!

I should have just named him Bob and saved us all the confusion.



PS:  We're sticking with "AND-ers"... some people pronounce it as "OHN-ders".  It doesn't really matter because he's going to be called plain ol' Ah Boy anyway.

Someone loves me

Anders with Por-por, July 2013

Scenes from a Married Life: Genetics Part II

Remember when I said Dear Hubby told me he would ask Very Serious Questions if our second son was born blond and blue-eyed as he is neither?

Anders was born via c-section.  I'll never forget the relief I felt when I heard his first cry.  I'll never forget the look on my husband's face and the tears in his eyes as he watched the doctor lift our son up for us to see.

But most of all, I'll never forget when Dear Hubby finally got to hold our son in his arms for the first time and gazed down at him.

"Mummy."

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Our son."

"Yes...?"

"He's got blue eyes."

There was a short pause in the operating theatre.  Then..

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Both of us just burst out laughing much to the surprise of the entire surgical team.

Anders was born with inky blue eyes.  They've changed colour now to... I don't know what colour exactly.  His eyes are a much lighter brown than Connor's and can sometimes look green in certain lighting and they still have a blue sheen to them.  I guess that's hazel eyes?  Just like Dear Hubby's.

As for the blond hair?  Well.... do blond eyelashes count?

Teehee.

And oh, I didn't get asked any Very Serious Questions despite the blue eyes at birth.  Why?  Because Anders is the spitting image of Dear Hubby as a baby.

P H E W.

Anders is one month old

Anders, aged 1 month, July 2013

Well, we've passed the magic one month mark.  We - Dear Hubby, Connor, Anders and Mummy - have survived the first 4 weeks which are usually the most difficult as everyone's adjusting to a new routine.  I quickly learnt that having two children is quite, quite different from having just one.

When we first came home from the hospital, Anders would sleep for 2-3 hours after a feed and I would use that time to get things done.  As he grew bigger, I noticed he stopped doing that.  He cried - LOTS! - and kept wanting to latch on all day long.  I also noticed that my boobies weren't the same as when I was breastfeeding Connor.  Back then, I remembered they would get really full just before a feed.  They didn't this time.  I suspected that I wasn't producing enough milk but decided we would hold out a while before using formula.  I was hoping Anders' demand for milk would soon stimulate enough supply from me.

After two weeks or so of Anders' endless cries, Connor's annoyance that I was never with him anymore, the ever-growing pile of housework as I could not do a thing but cradle Anders all day long and increasing tension felt by both Dear Hubby and I, we caved in.  I went out and got 3 small packs of formula to try and see if they would work.

Did they?

Like magic.

Anders fell asleep right after he (almost) finished a bottle and slept for about 3 hours.  For the first time in weeks, we had some peace and time to get things done.  Our initial decision was to only give him a bottle at the last feed before we went to bed so that I could get some decent sleep.  But it soon became apparent that I was not making enough milk because no matter how long he breastfed, he could not settle.  But a combination of breast milk and bottle saw our son content.  

We could also see him gaining weight.  It seemed like he filled out overnight.  He'd been so skinny earlier and we'd both worried about his weight gain.  I guess we know why now.

So now when he wants a feed, I offer breast milk first.  Then I offer a bottle of formula.  Each and every time, he takes both eagerly and goes to sleep almost right after.   I get to spend some time with Connor, the housework gets done and both Mummy and Daddy are happier.  Anders is much happier too, he cries less and sometimes is happy to just lie there after a feed and look around at the world.

I don't know why I'm not making enough milk.  I'm actually feeling less tired and healthier than I was 4 years ago with Connor so I wasn't expecting this at all.  I discussed the situation with the health visitor and we were both of the opinion that while breastfeeding for as long as possible was the best, sometimes we have to be practical.  

So while I had hoped to breastfeed him exclusively as I had with Connor, it looks like it's just not possible for practical reasons.  Do I feel guilty?  Yes but I know that raising a happy, healthy child is not just about breastfeeding.  Right now, this solution works for our family and we're all the happier for it.

On my first day home with Daddy, Mummy and big brother Connor

Anders, 4 days old

Wearing the same Liverpool FC romper that Connor wore home from hospital in Jakarta.  Naturally I picked this romper for Anders' homecoming.  Those rompers cost an absolute fortune but I just HAD to have them.  It's like their baptism clothing.

Here he is asleep and cosy on Daddy's chest as we all relaxed together as a family for the first time in our home. 

Home from the hospital!

I'm sitting here at the breakfast bar in our new kitchen (completed like... erm... 4 days before Anders was due to arrive!) and Anders is sleeping peacefully post-nen nen.

He was born 12 June and we had anticipated going home two days later.  Unfortunately, Anders chose to be stubborn and stopped latching onto the boobie, resulting in a weight loss that took him past the 10% weight loss limit for newborns.  The hospital refused to let us leave until Anders got his weight up so Mummy worked very hard expressing milk (mooooo........) and cup-feeding our littlest man.  Suddenly one night, around 2am, Anders decided he would latch on again and his weight and temperament improved immediately.

We got the okay to go home on Sunday... it was Father's Day!  Happy Father's Day, Dear Hubby!  Dear Hubby had been wonderful.  He'd managed the house, the cooking and above all, managed our rather lively Connor all the time I was away.  I knew he'd been doing a good job because Connor did not seem to miss me much.

His faraway grandparents in Malaysia and Liverpool have met their latest grandchild via the miracle that is Skype.  I think Skype is just fantastic, you won't appreciate it until you have family living far away.  My parents were simply ecstatic to see him even if only on a screen but at least you know he's there with you in real time, not just a photograph.  And you can see him move his little arms or hear him make those cute baby sounds as he snoozes.  They do ask about me but 98% of the time, I keep the camera focused on our littlest arrival and they are happy to just gaze at him.  I tell you what... after those sleepless nights of expressing, cup-feeding and worrying about his weight loss, Anders looked a much better sight than Mummy!  You know what they say - I got a face made for radio...

Connor has been a wonderful big brother so far, asking to hold and kiss him.  Before Anders arrived, I'd bought him a book called "I'm a Big Brother Now!" and we read it together a lot of nights and I talked about the baby.   I think it also helped that the arrival of baby brother somehow coincided with the arrival of a shiny new red bicycle that he'd been asking for.  I'm sure he's thinking that if this is how things go, he wouldn't mind TEN baby brothers!  TEN bicycles! Wah liao!

So what's life like as a mum of two children?  Well, for starters... now I say, "My beautiful children!" instead of "My beautiful child!" as I have for the past 4 years or so.  I can't describe the joy I feel when I see our older son holding his younger brother, telling me, "Mummy, I am gentle with Anders."  I am just beginning to experience the chaos that comes with managing a newborn who's crying for milk at the same time I have to get a 4yo ready for nursery school in the morning and I'm bleary-eyed from lack of sleep.

I am so so happy and content.  I thought Connor's arrival completed us as a family.  But Anders' arrival has just made things even MORE complete if that were possible.

I'm steeling myself for an awful lot of work for years to come but you know what?  It's all going to be all right.

I am Anders

Hello.

Nice to meet you.  

I am Anders.

Pregnancy Number Two: Almost there!

I had my last check-up today at Aberdeen Maternity.  The nice surprise was that the doctor was a fellow Malaysian.  I heard traces of a familiar accent and asked immediately, "Are you Malaysian, doctor?"  When she said yes, I beamed and said, "Me too!"  And of course being Malaysians, we traded tips on where to eat cheaply and well in Aberdeen, haha!

Number Two was checked and I was relieved to hear a good, strong heartbeat.  As I'd opted for a c-section again, I was then given a date for my operation.  It's June 12 and that made me laugh as I had thought that if it had been up to me, I would have chosen that date, I just like the way it looks.

The doctor and anaethesist then walked me through the procedure.  Even though I've had it done before, I'm feeling rather nervous about the whole thing.  I'm also remembering all over again the pain and discomfort!

In Jakarta, Dear Hubby hadn't been allowed to accompany me into the operation theatre but he can do so here.  I think he wasn't allowed in Jakarta because it was an emergency and they were focused on getting Connor out quickly and safely.  It's nice to know that he'll be by my side to welcome our second child into the world.

So... if you don't hear from me next week, you know I'll be lying in a hospital bed somewhere in Aberdeen cradling a newborn in my arms.  

For the Liverpool FC fans

Perfect for us Liverpool FC family, no?

Click HERE to buy.

Disclaimer:  I'm not the one selling it.  But I am thinking of buying it for my son(s)!

Ready and packed for the hospital!

That's my maternity bag, all packed and ready for the hospital!

I'm smarter this time round.  When I had Connor, I knew I would have a room all to myself and so packed my stuff into my lovely expensive leather bags.  Besides it was Jakarta and we were going to this super-duper posh private hospital so had to erm...  keep up with my fellow Jakartans who always seem to out-posh me, even in a hospital.  Who else on earth packs their stuff into LV bags for labour!  

This time I know I may be in a public ward so I just picked Dear Hubby's golf weekend bag.  This is what I packed:

Large t-shirt

Roomy pants

Even roomier knickers

(All of the above were stolen from Dear Hubby.  The beauty of having a very big-sized husband is that you can always fit into his clothes even at 40 weeks pregnant!)

Flip-flops for the bathroom, I don't like walking on shared bathroom floors... so icky!

Socks to keep my feet warm, I have very cold feet

Light jumper

Roomy dress for coming home in.  I'm still hoping it will be a nice summer's day when we get discharged and bring Number Two home for the first time!

Slip on shoes 

Toiletries for me

I also packed:

Clothes for Number Two

A swaddle blankie

A fleece blankie

Mitts, socks, a cotton hat

Nappies!  Wipes!  LOTS of wipes!

Face cloths and muslins

A Liverpool FC romper suit for coming home, the exact same one Connor wore coming home from the hospital

Last to go in will be some snack bars, a water bottle, my phone charger and iPad. 

Fellow mummies, if I've missed anything out, let me know!

Number Two Pregnancy: 35 weeks and almost there

About a month more and we'll have another little man in the house.   I am now 35 weeks pregnant.

I have gained a LOT of weight.  Like 40lbs of it.  Sigh.  I don't walk now.   I waddle.  Just like Donald Duck and geng.  Cukup hilang vogue.  

Number Two is quite feisty compared to his older brother who was more easygoing in utero.  See, Number Two doesn't like ANY sort of pressure on the belly.  If I rest my hand or anything else on the belly, he's very quick to respond with a sharp poke.  "Oi," he's saying.  "Get off."  If I don't move, he'll poke it a few more times.  Like "I'm warning you."   If I still don't move, that's it.  He'll land a series of sharp kicks and/or pokes until the offending object is removed.  It's quite amusing to realise that a sentient, conscious being is actually inside me... it's actually a little person who has already formed some likes and dislikes.  It's not just a blob.

Sometimes when he moves, it feels like a little hand scraping my insides.  Like he's trying to part the curtains and peer out.  It's quite a weird feeling.  Not quite yet, Number Two... a few more weeks to go yet!  Don't you dare come out now!

Connor is having fun playing with my belly.  For some reason, he thinks my belly button is THE conduit to the baby.  So he talks directly into it to the baby and when he wants to tickle the baby, he will blow directly onto it.  The first time he experienced the baby kicking him back was just fantastic.  Connor just lit up. "Mummy, the baby kicked me!" and he laughed so hard at it all.

I'm a little nervous at the thought of having to handle two children.  Yes, I'm more experienced this time and I know what to expect.  But this knowledge is scaring me a little because now I know.  I remember how tired I was in Jakarta with Connor and that was with a maid doing all the housework on my behalf.  God knows how I'm going to cope with the housework AND Connor AND the baby here all on my own.

Oh well.  I guess I'll find out in about a month's time!

Yay, we finally have a name!

Yes!  We have a name for Number Two!  At last!

Back when we didn't know if Number Two would be wearing pink or blue, we'd agreed quite early on a girl's name.  We both liked Ayva, I loved the sound of the name.

But we couldn't find a boy's name that we liked.  I trawled through pages and pages of online baby name sites with no success.  Some of the names suggested were really weird.  In this day and age, who on earth names their son Gaylord?  I liked Tyler but it was too American.  I found myself weirdly fixated on Ashton for a while and couldn't imagine why until I realised that our neighbours' grandson is Ashton.  So scratch that.

One of my favourites, Rafe, was met with hoots of derisive laughter.  These philistines I live with!  They said it was too posh a name for a village boy.  Okay lor....  Asher, Gage, Chace, Chance were similarly dismissed.

When we knew Number Two would be a boy, I got REALLY desperate.  With Connor, we had picked his name well before I entered my third trimester.  With Number Two, he was still nameless with just 8 weeks to go!

As I did with Connor, I also trawled through sites that suggested Danish names so as to pay homage to Dear Hubby's Faroese ancestry.  His great-great-(great?)-grandfather was called Hans Christian... boy, that's a real Danish name if there ever was one!  I found a few that didn't meet with hoots of laughter from my husband.

Today we've finally settled on a rather Danish name and it has been met with approval by my mother-in-law.  My married name is originally Danish and the spelling was anglicised some generations back to fit in with their new lives in England.  I think it's going to be really amusing if Number Two comes out inheriting my Chinese features but possessing a totally Danish-sounding name!  I know how it feels like because when people see my first name + married name, they always get a big surprise when they see me because it suggests someone who's tall, blonde and blue-eyed... you know, sterotype Nordic person.  No, it's me!  Average height, rice-eating, dark-haired, dark-eyed me!  HAHA!

We'll wait till Number Two arrives before unveiling it.  I think I might just choose a back-up name... just in case Number Two really does look 100% Chinese!