Dreams

Everyone has dreams when they sleep. It's just a matter of whether you remember your dream or not. I woke up one morning a few days ago while dear husband was getting ready to for work and I couldn't remember what my dream was about, which is of cos normal. But what I did remember distinctly was that I did have a dream, it was a strange one (my dreams usually are) and that I spoke English in my dream. Perhaps it was the unusually early hour of my awakening, the fact that I managed to sleep through most of the night and the cat didn't try to attack my toes or a question that husband had asked me a few nights prior (we'll get to that later), but I started wondering.

Why do I only dream in English?

I asked the husband if he dreams in English or Swedish and after some thought he said Swedish which makes sense cos that is his mother tongue. But my mother tongue isn't English but I have never dreamt in Malay! At least not that I can remember. Granted my Malay is far from satisfactory and I usually (shame-facedly) struggle to maintain a conversation with my parents in Malay but that is SUPPOSED to be my primal language, isn't it? I mean, I grew up in a Malay speaking environment. My parents speak Malay, my grandmother understands nothing but Malay and growing up, we've only had Indonesian maids. So question no.1, why do I dream only in English and question no.2, why the heck is my Malay so damn lousy??

Perhaps question no.2 answers my question no.1. Perhaps my brain functions and processes in English before translating (if needed) my thoughts to Malay or Swedish or any other language I may need to use at the moment.

It's not really a major topic of discussion but I just thought that was interesting that I dream ONLY in English and the fact that I realise that only now.

What language do you dream in? If you're multi-lingual (like most Singaporeans are), do you dream in different languages?

Coming home from work a few nights prior to that morning, dear husband had told me of a discussion he had had with a colleague that day. His colleague P had suddenly asked Mathias, how do you think people who lived in prehistoric times, before spoken language existed, dreamed? How do they know what they are dreaming about if they can't say what it is?

Yeah, these days they actually can be that free to have such discussions. So anyway, it apparently became a pretty heated discussion with the two men trying to figure it out. How do you formulate your dream if you don't have the power of language to describe what you dreamt of?

My theory is that dreams are a way for our brains to let off some steam. Release images of things we've experienced which I guess would mean that people in prehistoric times dreamt of things they saw and sounds they heard. But with the complexities of modern life and evolution of language, communication and interaction, I still go back to the question, why do I only dream in one language and why that particular language?

Just a thought that I needed to release on a cold, snow stormy day.

Self Motivation And Excitement

Before the pregnancy, I hadn't had much contact with medical personnel in Sweden. The only 2 times I had been to any medical facility was once to the midwife to get a cervical cancer test done (arranged by the govt. Nothing to do with me, I just got the letter to show up) and the 2nd time was to a private clinic that didn't look like a clinic (cos it was someone's house!) to see a German doctor when I had pneumonia. Neither one of those visits took longer than 10minutes and was done with no hickups. Meaning it was so quick, I hardly remembered them.

But those visits were normal doctor visits that I had done many times before in Singapore so I never thought twice about it. I mean, who gets excited about seeing a doctor unless you're a hypochondriac? But visits to the medical centre now are a totally different thing. There are checks done on me that are totally alien to me and questions that I think I'm supposed to ask but I just don't know any better so I don't and the midwife just assumes I know everything and can be really bad about explaining things.

I am pregnant and it is supposed to be an exciting and interesting period of time for me but the medical staff in Sweden sure make it hard for me to stay excited about my baby when I'm with them. I feel massive guilt for saying something like that but that is the honest truth. I really am excited about the baby and all the changes happening to me but sometimes even when one is excited and pepped up, those feelings can diminish or be toned down by encounters with some who is emotionless, non-smiling, professional to the point of being clinical and sterile just like the environment we are in. Talk about a wet blanket. And so far, the midwives that I've met plus one gynaecologist have been just like that in varying degrees.

The first midwife that we went to was strange and very uncomfortable to be with, had great difficulty explaining any symptoms I had apart from saying that it's normal (which does not help me when I'm in discomfort!) and we were glad when we could change to my current midwife.

The midwife I'm currently seeing is better...marginally. Think going from eating uncooked pasta to eating half cooked pasta with no sauce. The first was plain disgusting and the 2nd is palatable but it can be better, much better. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against my midwife now. She is quite pleasant, smiles and laughs appropriately and I can feel pretty relaxed around her but there is still no feeling of connection with her. And this is the woman who is going to help me through my pregnancy. I just wish I can feel happier and comfortable going to her. Let's just say that I have to motivate and excite myself to go for these checks and tests and figure out questions to ask her.

Maybe I'm strange but I feel that my concerns, worries and questions would be so much easier to formulate and remember if I am relaxed in that room with her and don't feel like I'm taking some test where I have to ask all the questions. Having the husband there is supposed to help but he had been so useless in helping me ask questions that I have been forced to remind and threaten him to ask questions every time we are approaching the clinic. Talk about another barrier for me to crash through. And all this in a language that barely a year and a half ago, I could not speak a word of. I may be able to speak and understand it now but to me, that's just another barrier on top of all the other barriers that prevent me from fully enjoying my experience as a mother to be.

As for the 3rd and most clinical of all midwives, we met her just recently. I'm just glad that I don't have to meet her very often if ever again. On the last Friday of February, husband and I headed to the university hospital in Örebro (I call it da big town) for our very first ultrasound. We had been looking forward to the day all week but on that Friday itself, we were really excited and pepped up to see our baby for the first time. I mean level of excitement as we neared the hospital grounds was probably at an 8 from a scale of 1 to 10. Taking the lift up to the prenatal department, registering and waiting for the nurse to call my name, our excitement level perked to a 10. That was of cos until she came out. She was a tiny lady and didn't have a very mean face but her stiff demeanour and curt manner of speaking quickly deflated my level of excitement back to an 8.

Midwife: Sjöberg? (we approach and she shakes our hand gruffly)

Me: Hej, Dian. (Hi, I'm Dian)

Midwife: (looks down at her chart) Ja, Det stämmer. Följ mig. (Yes, that's correct. Follow me.)

Oh no, I thought, is this gonna be another one of those weird midwives? Why do I have to keep meeting these kind of people?

I think the husband felt the same way cos he looked the same way as me and we had a frantic sign language conversation behind the midwife who didn't even bother to turn back. She just marched right up to the door and pointed into the room. I suddenly felt like a naughty student sent to the principal's office. Excitement level dipped to a low 6. This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to be seeing my baby for the 1st time and this is how I'm made to feel? So I tried to smile it off but it can be difficult when she is the one who will be doing the ultrasound.

We take off our jackets and she tells me to sit on the examining table before turning back to her computer. I look at Mathias and quietly ask him, What do I do with my shoes? Do I have to take my pants off? I don't understand. Husband is of cos just as bewildered as I am and tells me to take off my shoes but leave the pants on. Just as I start unzipping my boots, she quickly turns and says very sharply, Don't take off your shoes! Just lie on the table and lift up your dress.

Oh boy, this is so not helping to up my excitement level. By now, I've managed to self excite up to a respectable 7.5 but I felt far from happy. My heart was pounding with trepidation and uncertainty of what the mad midwife is going to do and what we will get to see. I'm afraid to talk to the husband and even more terrified to speak to her. How is this supposed to be a wonderful experience for me?

In her curt voice and sharp tone, she asks me all sorts of questions so I feel like I'm being interrogated. All this while her back is turned to me and I'm lying totally vulnerable on the table with husband sitting out of sight by my head. He just sits back the whole time and never once leaned close to me so I could tell he was present from us holding hands and squeezing it once in a while. Ugh! I'm hating my situation.

But finally the mad midwife switches on the machine and there is a screen on the wall right in front of me so we could see what she sees on the machine and we see our baby! Finally, my level of excitement reaches a phenomenal 11 and all I know is the image of the baby in front of me. Mad midwife's voice is blocked out and any questions I may have had disappeared. Well, honestly speaking, even if the questions hadn't disappeared, I would have been too terrified to ask the mad midwife. She is making small comments here and there is her emotionless, monotonous voice and suddenly we see the baby move! Such an active baby, refusing to stay still for a proper shot to be taken, playing with its hands, turning around and around the more the midwife shook my tummy to get it into the right position. Our baby is perfect and healthy and from the measurements she took, the baby has the greatest chances of being born healthy.

Well, I guess it doesn't matter that I didn't dare ask her anything. She answered the most important one. Our baby is healthy and happy and very active. And no, one cannot tell the sex yet. We're still thinking if we want to know. Probably not.
Baby apparently playing with its arms. Right arm is actually resting by its head while left one is chilling on its side. And yes, it took me a while to figure out where those arms are.

Ultrasound image of the baby on its back. It took a while for the baby to calm down for this shot.

Why don't they have it here??

Anyone who moves to a new country expects to see cultural, environmental and social differences. But having lived in 3 different countries, in 3 different chapters of my life I've come to a conclusion. One does not quite fathom and realise just how big these differences can be until one is faced with FTP, first time parenthood.

When I was still young (actually YOUNGER. One should never frivolously take away from one's youth) and single, I worked and lived in Thailand, Phuket to be exact, for a period of time. That was where I met my husband but for the most part, since it was a long distance relationship, I still felt like I had the freedom of singlehood. Granted that Thailand is not that far removed from what I was used to in Singapore, it was still a new environment with very specific social and cultural differences. It took me a while to assimilate and feel comfortable although having a close friend as a flatmate for half of my time there helped. But all in all I felt like it was quite easy to get used to life in Phuket, even though I didn't have a lot of the amenities I was used to like a good, cheap transport system.

I suspect now that my ease at getting used to the lifestyle, people and language could have been due to my youthful enthusiasm and single girl mentality. I didn't have a care in the world and the only person I needed to take care of and could fully depend on was me.

I've been in Sweden for almost as long as I was in Phuket and yet I find myself unable (or perhaps to some extent unwilling??) to get used to life here. Unable to understand and perhaps fully accept the cultural, social and environmental sphere surrounding me right now. In other words, I'm having a hard time fitting in or feeling like I belong somewhere in this big puzzle called Sweden. Unlike that innocent, eager single girl of 4 years ago ready to take on whatever Thailand had to offer, I'm now a married, stay at home wife, expecting her first child.

How time flies.

I've always been aware of just how different Sweden is from Singapore but never more so than now. Being pregnant for the first time, all that I know about childcare is what I have learnt from my mother and sister in law and whatever I've been exposed to in Singapore. There are so many things that I had been so used to and had taken for granted in Singapore that simply do not exist or are a rarity here and I am CONFUSED!

I don't really have any Swedish friends here that I feel comfortable enough to openly ask about the silliest things like what would they do if the baby has wind in the tummy. If I was to ask that I would probably get a blank stare and they would ask me, what do you mean by wind? But ask any Singaporean and they would immediately say, Ai..wind ah! Alamak, better go put some Axe oil on your stomach. I did try to ask Mathias' grandma about that and I did get a blank stare before she laughed embarassed and said you just pick up the baby, pat it and carry it around til it feels better.

That put a blank stare on MY face. Why would one need to do that if one can just use the baby bird oil and gripe water? Ok fine, maybe not all are familiar with the bird oil until you see the red metal tube the bottle comes in with the picture of the peacock on it at the chinese medicine shop. Fine, I can understand since it's an asian product. Then we move on to the idea of milk powder. I'd been walking up and down the baby aisle at the supermarket and have yet to find baby milk powder. As is, adult milk powder does not exist in Sweden but to not be able to even find baby milk powder worries me. Perhaps I just don't know the Swedish name for it but you see what I mean by asking the silliest questions? Eerr..excuse me, but which pack is milk powder?

I know, I know, there's no harm in asking but sometimes I just want to have the stuff that I had when I was young for my own baby. I can't even get Johnson's & Johnson's baby products here cos Sweden does not seem to carry that brand. Sure there are other brands that are just as good but none of them have the same wonderful fragrance that can only come from the J&J baby milk bath or the J&J baby no more tears shampoo.

Am I just being difficult and petty? I do wonder that sometimes about myself. Am I just making life more difficult for me cos I'm so homesick? So many wonderful conveniences that I love and miss that are simply not available to me anymore.

But then, every now and again I come across something or rather the lack of something that gets me all riled up again (remember, it's the raging hormones raging) and I get even more homesick and wonder, WHY DON*T THEY HAVE IT HERE??!

What was it today?

Today, I got all riled up again after some much appreciated peace (yea, a happy life is a happy wife) when I made a list of things we need to get for the baby. The big things, not the small supermarket stuff like wet wipes and diapers but like the cot, baby bathtub, pram etc. Husband look through the list and then dared to ask me (cos I'm still so vulnerable and unpredictable), what's a hot water boiler?

To me a hot water boiler is not just the electric kettle we have that boils water when we switch it on. A proper hot water boiler is a machine that not just boils the water but keeps it warm at all times. Most Singapore homes have one and a mother with a demanding newborn would be lost without it.

Or so I thought.

I got the oh so familiar blank stare before he dropped the bomb on me.

We don't have that here.

What do you mean? In Sweden? There is no hot water boiler in Sweden??!

I don't think they have it in Europe. The first time I saw it was in Asia.

WHAT??!! But I don't want to wait for water to boil in the middle of the night or make milk in advance. Milk should be fresh! What kind of place does not have hot water boilers??

(very nervous) I'll go check with our suppliers at work to see if they have anything.

You'd better! You work in a damn appliance store! how can you not have my water boiler? I can't have a baby without a water boiler! Get me a boiler! If you don't get me a boiler by the middle of my 3rd trimester, I'm not having the baby! I'm very determined, you know.

I know you are.

Yes I am! I'm gonna hold it in until I turn blue! I promise you!

A little taste of the daily melodrama that plays out between husband and hormonally charged wife who was already a drama queen to start with. My pooooor husband. A good thing I married an incredibly patient man. And yes, the man has 4 months to get me my water boiler or there will be hell to pay.