Pixs from Vivi's first days

These are some pictures from Vivien's very first days. All of them are taken during visiting hours at the hospital, where all mothers are required to stay 4 nights.

I have to say thank you to my beloved Brano, who brought me an abundance of supplies during those four days -- who knew I could go through 3 big bottles of water in a day? Thank you as well to the people who came to visit (Nora, Rasto, Dadi, and Kamilka; Zuzi; Ada and the girls; and the Vargic clan). Hugs to you all. I needed the company -- and the English for a while!!! Thank you.

Gate Dole!!! The hospital experience.

Slovak heath care law dictates that all mothers and babies must remain in the hospital four nights after labor. Because Vivien and I had been healthy, I felt the four nights were excessive; at the same time, I was impressed by the kindness of the nurses, both those caring for the mothers and the babies. We were given ample space to ask questions, get advice, and even go for demonstrations of bathing, changing clothes/diapers, and nursing. We could order food from a selection each day and while the food wasn't all that great, it was edible and I was most grateful for at least the semblance of choice.

The only thing that was slightly strange was the Tuesday parade of visitors. They woke us up early (granted all the babies are rooming in, so it isn't like we are sleeping in late and luxuriating in those last moments of baby-free sleep) and told us to clean our rooms. My roommate and I were complimented many times for the cleanliness of our room -- apparently there were some mommies on the floor who weren't picking up after themselves. So, the warning to "clean up, ladies" was wasted on us.

The view from my above-standard room

Then started the morning of frantic visitors to the room -- cleaners, nurses, assistants… all looking for something amiss and bringing with them a great deal of stressed energy. I kept asking my roommate (who became my expert on all things confusing and Slovak) "what is going on???". She replied, "the big visit is today". Then she rattled off a list of the privileged people (the head doctors of the ward) for whom all the dog and pony show was being performed. It would have been fine for them to politely ask us to pick up our rooms, but for them to come in at 6 am with this nervous sense of urgency… it just seemed so ridiculous and it became more so. The parade of cleaning people -- sheets changed, floors mopped, shelves examined (I had my purse under the bed and the nurse grabbed it and put it in the closet -- nothing was to be out on the tables, no sign of life permitted).

The visits began. We were told (via intercom) to pull down our underwear and lay in bed (Damy, Gate dole!!!). We did as told and waited. The first visit arrived. The head nurse with 3 other stooges with her. A sweet faced young lady, who did the first check. She checked us. The crazy part was that this was only for the women, the "visitors" this day didn't care a wit about the babies. When we had to feed or get up to appease a screaming infant -- they were most displeased. You should be laying in bed. Gate dole!

The next visit was the head nurse, accompanied by the grim, old gynecologist, and 4 or 5 other stooges. They entered our room. The head nurse reals off a list of information about the patient and the gynecologist lectures a bit, gives consultation, prescribes drugs… whatever in a matter of 30 seconds and then it is off to the next bed.

The next visit is the big one. The reason for all the pomp and sass. In between visits the nurses are still frantically looking for anything out of place. One of them actually reached up above my bed and quickly cleaned the top of the light fixture. Thank god she got that quick sweep in, because frankly if I were the head of the department, I would be checking. This big visit was late. You see, they don't actually give a time for the visit. So, we waited. Hungry babies cried. Hungry mommies stayed in bed, laying there with their underwear around their ankles and the bed covers down. Slightly indecent, but were were ready for a mass inspection.

The view from my above-standard bed

Finally around 10 (let me remind you this is a total of 4 hours of preparation), the troops arrive. The head of the department and the head doctor, both kind-faced older gentlemen obstetricians arrive. This time the hierarchy has changed and the gynecologist is giving verbal information regarding each patient, the head nurse stands to the side usurped, and other nurses/assistants hover nearby. All in all, there are about 12 people in this parade. They crowd around each bed, giving each woman a minute's perusal. I was examined briefly, my roommate examined as well and in a manner of moments it was done. huh?

All that preparation. Repeat 4 hours of preparation. All that stress from the cleaning ladies to the head nurse… Delaying breakfast for 2 hour. Not giving proper attention to our babies for the duration, because we had to be in bed -- gate dole, damy! Now comes the best part. THEY DO THIS 2 TIMES EVERY WEEK!!!!

I was utterly flabbergasted.

The reason is simple -- it is ceremony. It is in honor of the authority in the hospital hierarchy. These obstetricians are head honchos. They are widely respected in the hospital by virtue of their position and expertise. They are widely respected outside the hospital too. They are not to be questioned, not to be treated as an equal, and their attention is a gift (albeit only a 30 second gift). That's it. This is a concept we don't have in the US. We question doctors -- in fact, we question authority generally. That is not kosher here. You would never dare suggest that a doctor is wrong or that you have a diagnosis. So that is that.

I managed, in my 4 day stay, to experience one of these visits. Most of the time, I thought it was hilarious, because it was so superficially ceremonious. Like when the foreign director comes to visit and a company cleans up its operations the day before. The foreign director knows, just as our head chiefs knew, that things are being perfected moments before their arrival. They see the slight wetness in the corner from a recent mopping. Did they see the food waiting, cooling down to a lukewarm mush, outside the ward doors? How could they miss the military like stature of all the staff and patients in beds waiting with their best behavior? Like a row of good little soldiers awaiting inspection. Gate dole, damy!

The Happiest Baby on the Block

I downloaded the book "The Happiest Baby on the Block", I am (self-proclaimed) gullible and really do often believe everything I read. The internet is therefore a minefield of dangers. However, this book presented a nice argument for steps on how to calm an agitated baby. The main culprit that the book focused on was Colic; but, the same calming techniques apply to other ailments as well... especially when little one gets herself riled to the point of losing it. I like to think of it as the goat -- you know, that sound forthcoming from your baby's mouth that sounds like a goat bleating.

"Neah, Neah, Neah!"

Well, we've become a fan of the first step of calming our little goat baby. The swaddle.


The premise of the swaddle is that it is reminiscent of the womb, that it provides feelings of security and safety while stifling the "falling reflex". Vivien seems quite content with it. :)

The birth

So many people have asked me about the labor, birth, and the hospital. Now that almost 2 weeks have passed since Vivien entered the world, I think I am finally prepared to reflect on such an emotionally powerful experience. In fact, I think that "power" is the most important way to describe it.



As time passes, the pain goes away -- literal pain felt now in the nether regions and pain in the memory. It must be those good old hormones at work, because if women had a clear memory of the exact feeling during birth, I don't think that they'd go for baby #2 or #3...

Right now my memory consists of moments of stress and fear at the beginning. Crouching around the house, keeping Pani Hrabcakova's words in my mind -- breathe, relax, breathe, relax... playing the waiting game. Is this it? Should we go? Wake the doctor? Is it something I ate? We called the doctor. Went in the morning after a sleepless night. Yes, it's it!!! Go home. Rest, relax, take a bath, read...

Brano put on Seinfeld. I watched a whole season, in between trips to the bathroom for evacuations coming from both sides (at the same time). Rest, relax, breathe... Approximately 12 hours later, back at the hospital.

We went through emergency admissions. I was guided to a curtained area and told to put on my pj's, the curtain was pulled away by an inebriated drunk with blood on his face -- welcome to the hospital. The nurse gave me an apologetic look and guided the drunken slob away... breathe, relax, breathe, relax, in through the nose out though the mouth.

Back to the birthing area. The hallways kept dark, because it is night and the attendants want the women to sleep. The "vzdycharen" (the sighing room) on either side of the dark long hallway, leading to the birthing salons. Brano left behind, in the lighted hallway of waiting in the dark, without information.

Questions, too many questions. In the stress of the moment, I've completely forgotten how to speak Slovak and sputter out answers to the increasingly impatient nurse with my increasingly thick tongue. I'm checked, hooked up to a cardiogram -- womb, baby's heartbeat monitored. I'm told not to move. You try not moving during a contraction. I'm berated for moving. The nurse tells me to breathe and focus, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

I'm told to take a bed in the "room of sighs" and to tell my husband to go home. He goes unhappily to his own sleepless room of sighs. We wait. I have activities -- a shave, an enema, several showers, vomiting... I can't sleep.

At 4 am, my water breaks with some assistance. Things go quicker then. We call Brano, the dr., the team of nurses. I've been awake for 25 hours, with no food, no water, on empty. I beg for an epidural. The nice nurses, dressed in my mind as angels give me an epidural. My goals of natural childbirth out the window, due to real weakness (of mind and body).




Then it begins in earnest. The need to push. My body taking over. My mind absolutely in some other place of calm and peace. I was the pitcher, two nurses (who'd been with me all night) at 1st and 3rd, Brano at 2nd -- but close so I could feel his presence, and Dr. Cunderlik at home base.



I had thought before this experience that I'd need to consciously do something. That I would have to actually think about the process. This wasn't true at all. The body took over. It was the stretch to the finish line and all I felt was a true force and power, akin to possession, take residence for the 20 minutes of birth. The encouragement of the nurses and Dr. Cunderlik, literally yelling at me, touching me and telling me what to do... never have I felt like the subject of such great support and championship. I was the horse they'd all put their last dollar on.

Vivien arrived. I don't remember a scream. They whisked her away and brought her back in what seemed like seconds. They laid her on my chest and she calmed immediately. The first image of her remains in my head... true love...