To this day, I am quite happy that I wasn't in an overly inquisitive frame of mind.
Fun fact: hospitals in Japan give you a piece of the umbilical chord to keep as a 'souvenir'. They even provide a cute little box for you to keep it in.
I didn't have to wait for Shin to arrive the next day in order to get the lowdown on my new treasure. When the morning shift nurse popped in to introduce herself, and find out how Kio and I fared during our first night together, she handed me a piece of gauze and explained the purpose of the box. She opened the box to reveal the prized bit of chord that was nestled inside, and then gave me the gauze which held a spare.
Yes, that's right. A spare piece of umbilical chord.
It was at this point that I burst out laughing. When the nurse didn't join in I quickly muttered, "すみません、ちょっとつかれた。" (Please, excuse me. I'm a little tired.)
Coupled with the rather unladylike expletives I bellowed during labour, I didn't think that I was making a very good impression. Luckily maternity ward nurses are used to a bit of nonsense from new moms and they didn't hold the curse words or cultural insensitivity against me.
So there's a little anecdote about physically cutting the chord, but my purpose here today is to delve a bit into the metaphorical side of things.
From the day that Kio and I came home from the hospital we've shared a room. It was always my intention to move out of 'his' room once he started sleeping well but I just never got around to it.
In the beginning we bed-shared. The ease of being able to roll over half asleep and nurse in the middle of the night just made life that little bit easier.
This is my favourite picture of Kio and I.
He's just so pleased with his fatness.
Too bad that it is so grainy.
Once Kio was able to roll on his own, I decided that it was time to move him to his crib. A few people warned me that the transition would be hellish, but it went off without a hitch. Not much after that Kio was also regularly napping in his crib too. Ahh the freedom of being able to move about the apartment during nap time.
Kio's first night in his crib.
That's my shirt that he's sleeping on - I read that it is supposed to
help with the adjustment. It turns out that it wasn't needed.
The next step should have been my exodus but that's where my momentum kind of petered out - until recently.
It was during March, when both Kio and I were sick, that I realized it was time to strike out on my own.
WARNING: The following story contains scenes of gratuitous vomiting. Proceed at your own risk.
There was one night in particular where Kio had been waking up at least once an hour. Either he or I would have a coughing fit that that would rouse him and bring on a fresh batch of tears.
And of course more coughing.
At one point he got to be pretty inconsolable so I gave him a bottle. His eyes began to droop, his whimpering stopped and within minutes he was sound asleep in his crib.
I crawled back into bed with the hopes that I might get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep...
Cue the vomit.
It was up the wall, down between the slats of the crib, all through Kio's hair, and still coming. I whisked him out of his bed and headed for the shower, which he hates.
More tears.
More vomit.
More tears (this time from me).
Finally, after what felt like and eternity, but was probably more like 10 minutes, he was in clean PJs and for all intents and purposes puke free. The poor little dude was exhausted so I put him in my bed and set to work cleaning up the mess.
By this point it was around 3:00 in the morning. I'm sure that the people living below us were pleased as punch that I was moving furniture and knocking stuff around.
I'm less than graceful on a good day, but add sleep deprivation and the plague into the mix, and I move with the elegance of an elephant. And really, this is probably doing and injustice to elephants.
Sheets, pajamas and towels into the wash. Mattress on the balcony to be dealt with in the morning. Walls and floor hastily mopped. And lastly, the crib was wiped down. Mission accomplished, time for bed. Again.
I snuggled in with my little guy, closed my eyes and was immediately overwhelmed by the stench of puke.
Although I had cleaned both Kio and the room, I admit that I did a less that stellar job - especially on the room.
It was the middle of the night after all.
As I was dragging out the futon that we keep stored away for guests, I repeatedly kicked myself in the ass for not moving into the spare room earlier.
If I had moved, I wouldn't have woken Kio up with my coughing.
If I had moved I could have closed the door on that awful mess and sorted it out in the morning.
If I had moved, we would be sleeping right now.
Grrr.
So as we stretched out on the floor of the spare room I vowed to 'cut the chord' and be in my own room by the end of Golden Week (that's the beginning of May for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Japanese public holiday system).
And so I was.
And it is good.
And Kio has slept through the night six times.
And I've only brought him in to sleep with me four times...
OK, so maybe the chord isn't completely cut, but we're giving it a pretty good stretch.
This is where my bed used to be -
Kio's new playroom!
Notice that he is surrounded by toys and
playing with the box that his crayons came in.
