A Strange Begin: Sleepless Nights and An Ambulance,

Photo: (c) The Writing Well

When my youngest son (our third) was born last October, the kraamweek (the week after the birth) didn't quite go as planned. We came back from the hospital on a Friday morning and our interim kraamzorg was stood at our front door to meet us. The first day home went as planned. Lots of rest, help, and time for my eldest two sons to meet their new brother.

The night however was a different story. Our new addition cried a lot at night. By that I mean unless he was being held upright he was crying. As soon as we laid him down his eyes sprung open and he began to scream. That meant, with labour and the birth included, I hadn't slept at all for three nights. I was a little tired to say the least.

Saturday night was a repeat of the night before. Four nights without sleep.

Then on Sunday morning I felt a little strange. It felt as if I was on the verge of slipping away into a dreamland, whilst lying in my kraambed. My kraamzorg (a trainee) came to bring me breakfast, was shocked by how I looked and flew back down the stairs to alert the experienced kraamzorg that all was not well upstairs. They both came charging back upstairs. I was conscious of everything that was going on around me but could not respond. No words came out, my head wouldn't move. My blood pressure was high and I had what I can best describe as the shakes. The kraamzorg called the midwife, who arrived quickly but then struggled to get an accurate blood pressure reading. Due to my unresponsiveness she called an ambulance, informing them not to come with sirens and lights.

A few minutes later I heard a siren getting louder and louder and my insides curdled. My eyes told those in the room that I was horrified with the arrival of an ambulance with "bells and tooters" blazing.

The next fifteen minutes were amongst the strangest of my life. Two ambulance personnel, a male and a female, began loading equipment on the bed. The room was a hive of activity with 2 maternity nurses, a midwife and my family milling around trying to help and get a grip on the situation.

After tests and questions the decision was made to take me to hospital in the ambulance, back to the maternity ward for checks. One of the ambulance crew said it seemed like I had gone in to shock. A birth and four nights with no sleep seemed a viable reason for this....

Somewhere amid the commotion I began to return to the land of the living and could communicate once more.

And so I made it downstairs with help from the ambulance personnel and my husband, and I was loaded on to a stretcher outside our house. Which is when I noticed that the arrival of the ambulance had attracted a sea of onlookers in the street and surrounding houses...... My husband took the baby in the car, as he would stay with me in the maternity ward to ensure that the breastfeeding could continue. My eldest sons stayed with kraamzorg until friends got there to look after them. It was chaotic, upsetting and stressful - for us all.

It was only the second time I had ever been in an ambulance. The first time was to accompany my brother when he had a serious asthma attack when we were out in Watford, England one night. It was certainly the first time I had ever been in a Dutch ambulance. By the time we were driving to the hospital I was compos mentis again, and well aware of the drama of the past half an hour, hour - who knows how much time had passed.

Photo: Pam Roth

Once we arrived at the ambulance entrance of the hospital we seemed to whizz through corridors, past a sea of faces waiting their turn in queues in various departments, until we arrived in the maternity ward. Familiar faces came to help me from the stretcher to a bed and started hooking me up to an array of machines.

Lots of tests ensued from a gynaecologist and a neurologist and I had a few more 'attacks' like I had had that morning. The result was that I had to stay overnight in the hospital. I was devastated - it wasn't how the kraamweek was supposed to be! The kraamweek following the births of my first two sons are etched on my mind as wonderful weeks, a treasure trove of precious moments. And this time I ended up separated from the rest of my family, my husband home worried sick looking after our eldest sons who didn't understand anything that had happened, and me unable to properly care for my newborn.

Aside from a near collapse (luckily a nurse was holding on to me) walking back from the bathroom, the night passed without incident and the next morning I was allowed to return home. Kraamzorg returned. The kraamweek recommenced. The rest of the week passed without incident, but the sleepless nights continued.  So we turned to an osteopath.

He diagnosed our little one as suffering from silent reflux. He was having a rough time of it, hence the sleepless nights. I'd like to say that we got referred to the paediatrician, given medicine and all was well but the reality is that we struggled at night for many months and have only really had peace at night during the last month.

We've come through the other end - and the most amazing thing about all this is that our youngest son is a smiley, giggly, happy little boy - despite the less than easy start in this world.

Photo: (c) The Writing Well

You Know You're An Expat Parent in the Netherlands When...

Being a parent abroad means facing situations that you probably wouldn't face if you had stayed in the country you were born in. Being an expat parent means adapting...... Here are twenty things that make me realise I'm a Brit parenting in the Netherlands.

1. You actually consider a home birth as a viable option.
2. You think you can give birth without the help of pain relief.
3. The whole idea of a maternity nurse spending a week in your home directly after the birth of your child is inconceivable. You reluctantly commit to her coming a few hours a day (half of your entitlement) but make sure everyone knows you are giving in begrudgingly. When your second is born you sign up for your full entitlement and dream up elaborate ways to get more hours out of your maternity nurse.
4. When the well-baby clinic recommends your child eats six slices of bread a day you involuntarily take in a sharp breath.
5. Your three year old speaks Dutch better than you do. 
6. Your five year old actually corrects you when you speak Dutch.
7. You are floored by the way your toddler can roll their "r's" and say "Scheveningen".
8. You're amazed because there is no complicated school enrolment system* for your children. You fill in an application form and the school informs you within a week or two if they have a space for your child or not. You can't believe it can be that simple.
9. When your child starts school you have no idea how the school system works because it's not the same as the one you grew up in. 
10. You cannot get to grips with the idea that eating in a pancake house is "going out for dinner" and still see those Dutch pancakes as eating dessert before the main meal.
11. You stop calling your GP for every minor ailment your kids get because you know the answer will be "Take paracetamol and if he's not okay in three days come back."
12. There is more paracetamol in your medicine cabinet at any one time than you would conceivably use in a year in your own country. What's more you have paracetamol for every possible age range and for every orifice and  - you're not afraid to use it.
13. Your kids cycle better and more than you do.
14. The phrase you use most whilst walking to and around the local playground is "Watch out for the dog poo. I said WATCH OUT! OK, you can clean that when we get home...."
15. Your children eat sprinkles on bread for breakfast.
16. Your child brings home a different friend book to fill in on a weekly basis. But of course your child cannot yet write so guess what you spend your weekends doing....
17. You wouldn't dream of driving to school. Instead, you join the masses and walk or cycle with your child to school.
18. You have an impressive array of attachments for your bike, including a bike trailer and child seats.
19. You race to the nearest lake when the temperature drops so that your children can wear their ice skates.
20. Your child has a tendency to find the idea of poo sandwiches hilarious. 

*except in Amsterdam.....

11. You don't call the GP....
Photo: Andrzej Gdula



What have I missed? What makes you realise you are parenting abroad, which ever country you are parenting in?

A Doula by My Side

Photo: Kelsey Johnson

Being pregnant and living in a foreign country can be quite daunting once the euphoria has ebbed and reality hits. Back home you'd have your mum, sister or best friend on hand to support you through the nine month roller coaster that is pregnancy. When you're abroad it may be harder to find that emotional and practical support. Further more there are language and culture differences making it tougher still. This is why a doula is a great option for expats.

For nine months a doula stands at your side, helping you to prepare mentally and physically for the upcoming birth. When D-Day comes and you're huffing and puffing contractions away, a doula provides hands on physical support and pushes you mentally to go further than you thought you ever could. Whilst your partner is passed out exhausted on a chair in the delivery room, a doula takes over and holds your hand. If you're not sure of your options as the birth approaches, a doula paints a picture for you.

There are also medical reasons to have a doula in the delivery room with you - it has been shown that the presence of a doula reduces medical interventions such as caesarians and pain relief. The presence of a doula creates peace, trust and a feeling of safety in the delivery room and this has an effect on the birth of a baby. And speaking from personal experience this is not just sales talk on doula sites.

The birth of my first son was not the straight forward, pleasant experience we had hoped for. This was largely due to a maternity ward running at full capacity and few nurses around to help when we needed it most. It was scary. We'd had the chance of using a doula but thought it unnecessary at the time. A regret for sure. 

During my second pregnancy I didn't hesitate one second to contact a doula to support me and my husband in the delivery room. When my third pregnancy was confirmed she was one of the first to know. 

My doula, Malua te Lintelo, belonged in the delivery room with me and my husband as if she were a member of our family. There was no other person I would have rather had in the delivery room with us last October. After her presence during the birth of my second child, there was no doubt she would be with us for our third.

Not only did she give me the emotional support during the most difficult times of labour, she also gave valued emotional and practical support in the months and particularly weeks before my due date. She reminded me how tiring labour is...... prodded me to get my rest when I could, despite looking after my two children. She encouraged me to lean on others around me and she pushed home how important time with alone with my husband was before the baby arrived. She helped put me in the right emotional and mental place for the birth.

Unfortunately she couldn't wave a magic wand and take away the fatigue that raged once the contractions hit full strength. Two nights of contractions and no sleep had sapped my reserves, but thanks to Malua I got through the birth with a smile on my face and can look back on a happy, memorable birth once more.

There are many reasons to take a doula with you on your journey though pregnancy and birth: for expats there are more reasons still.

For more information about doulas and where to find one near you in the Netherlands visit doula.nl . My doula, Malua, can be contacted at Welkomst and if you would like more information about my experiences in Malua's hands then please feel free to contact me.

To read more about my experience with my doula during my second delivery read my article "A Little Help in the Delivery Room" on I Am Expat.