My New Norwegian Home

I have made 12 resolutions. I figured there are 12 months, so why not 12 resolutions? One of those is writing regularly in this blog. After my 4 and a half month hiatus, I've returned and hope to continue my blogging on this wild and crazy frozen land I now call home. I'm feeling much better. I can think clearer, I can relax and just take a deep breath knowing everything is actually going to be okay. It's a wonderful feeling seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and knowing it's not an oncoming train. I still have my off-days, but they are fewer and further between. During my break I have and still am receiving treatment, I watched my daughter celebrate her 1st birthday, I've returned to norskkurs yet again and am continuing to do so, my husband and I have bought a house, we've celebrated an American Thanksgiving dinner with our friends and family here in Norway, we have booked a trip for our 2015 trip to the U.S. and we've celebrated my 3rd Christma

It has only taken me nearly 8 months of denial to come to terms with having Postpartum Depression and Anxiety. The depression part is diagnosed, but anxiety is only self-diagnosed as of now, but I'm sure my therapist will say the same. Generally, I think people should be more open about mental illness. There's a huge stigma surrounding mental illness. There's nothing wrong with speaking aloud about diabetes or high blood pressure or cholesterol, so why does a chemical imbalance in the brain have to be so different? I believe this stigma also prevents people from seeking out the help they need and prolonging their treatment. However, I am a HUGE hypocrite. I've been scared to tell anyone. I have been in denial for several months. Even after my doctor suspecting me having PPD and referring me to a midwife who works with PPD in women, I was still in denial. I mean, I absolutely love and adore my baby. I feel connected and bonded to my baby, how could I possibly have this

I was exhausted and only wanted sleep which made me feel so terrible. I didn't want to want sleep. I wanted to want to hold my baby. Shortly after entering the room, I was sick. I craved water, but was only allowed tiny amounts. I slept. When I woke up Arild was beside me. He told me Pia was fine and he was being sent home. He said he had skin to skin care with Pia which I think he enjoyed because he said she kept sniffing at him as he was cuddling with her. He said it felt so strange and wrong to be in the NICU with Pia when there were premature babies, babies with cleft lips and other health problems in there. Our baby just had a mother with gestational diabetes and was probably very healthy, though she did have to stay a while because her glucose level was very low - 1.7 in European terms and 31 in American terms. Finally a midwife brought Pia into my ICU room. I had skin to skin care with her and this was our first attempt at breastfeeding. The midwife just laid her on me an

Like my pregnancy in Norway post, I'll blab on about my labor experience. Of course this is solely my experience and I can't speak on behalf of anyone else's as I'm certain everyone's perception and experience is different.  September 17, 2013 - that's a day I'll never forget. I was so excited the night before I could barely sleep. My induction appointment was at 8:30 that morning. I woke up quite early, took a shower, skipped my insulin (thank goodness), ate a nice breakfast at the table with my cat sitting across from me and finally woke the husband up so he could get a move on! I was ready! :-)  I was excited to meet my little girl and I was positively looking forward to bringing her into this world.  I was told previously by many American " veteran  moms" that I shouldn't and wouldn't be allowed to eat anything that day. However, I was encouraged to eat by my midwife as I was being induced (which could take some time to even jum

Recently, hidden cameramen captured an actor child shivering at a bus stop just to see if strangers would give him their coats. Of course they did! That's what any decent human would do. The point of this being, don't let what's out of sight be out of mind. There are others in this world who need help. Short update, but enjoy! :-) What's the difference between giving your coat to this boy or a child in Syria?

Arild and I rarely encounter cultural differences within our home. Outside the home, interacting with other people, oh yeah, sure. Tons. But within our marriage, rarely. We expect this is because he isn't a complete full-on snow-loving Norwegian and I'm not a gun-toting American. (Sorry, couldn't think of another stereotype quick enough!) We love our homelands, but we're just not over-the-top wishing to fulfill every stereotype of our nationalities. And that's perfectly okay. We think it's okay because had we been both extremes on the spectrum, we would make a very poor couple. Except there is this one thing where we clash culturally, but it's not a huge problem or anything. We deal with it effectively. It's just enough to at times make me walk away mumbling to myself, "Ugh you are so Norwegian sometimes!" He doesn't speak to strangers. Of course, this is alright at times, but if I need to ask him to ask another person a question for me i