A few days at estancia La Candelaria was supposed to be a vacation, a break from the city and a chance to enjoy the country air with Baby V and the abuelas. Instead I ended the trip at Lobos (the nearest pueblo) emergency room.
The last time I visited La Candelaria was to host family and friends for Rachel and Rey’s wedding. A long weekend of friendly soccer matches, long walks along the grove of eucalyptus and fanciful meals with heartfelt toasts for the bride and groom. This trip had to be different but I had no idea how much so. The packing alone took half a day. Valentina of course had her own large duffle – in stuffed diapers, formula, outfits enough to last for 3 changes daily, blankets, toys, yoga mat to play on, pack n play crib, bathtime chair, bottles, jarred and dried food, special spoons and sippy cups, on and on. Utta also had her own bag – eating chair, dried food, bed, toys, chew bones. The last five minutes before we left, I threw a few pairs of jeans and sweaters for myself. We rented a car for us, the baby and the dog. We barely fit ourselves and our luggage (the stroller had to be shoved in with the abuelas). The abuelas traveled in a chauffered car aka “a remise”. The first conundrum upon arrival – where to set up the baby’s crib. At home she has her own room and we (parents, dog and child) have never ever shared sleeping quarters. How would the dog tolerate the intermittent sqwaks of sleeping V? How would V sleeping through the snoring or worse barking bulldog? How would we relax knowing that at any given second, both could wake the other and disturb the delicate balance? Our room had a main quarters and a side room with twin bed and a fireplace. You had to go through the small room to get to the main bedroom though at least there was a closeable door in between them. We decided to put the baby in the side room, I would sleep with her in the twin and Hugh would sleep with Utta in the main room (next to the bathroom). It wasn’t the brightest move but at the time it seemed best since the room with the fireplace was likely to remain toasty throughout the night and temperature was a main concern. Right before we started the baby nighttime routine, Hugh proudly piled on twenty or so pieces of wood into the fireplace, doused it with kerosene and then added his “secret sauce” a light blow of air into the fireplace aimed at the bottom of the stack. While I retired early with the baby, he left to play Blokus with the unstoppable abuelas. The fire roared on for hours. Until 1 or 2 in the morning it was so hot I was sweating and so was the baby. I had to cover the metal parts of the crib for fear she’d burn herself if she rolled and touched them in her sleep. I didn’t sleep until the fire died down and with it the temperature. Then I put a blanket on the baby and woke a few hours later with frostbite on my nose. The baby woke early too with her hands cold as ice. Not a restful start to the trip.
While the abuelas dozed until late morning – I woke at 5 or 6 am with the baby, gave her a bottle and tried to get her back to sleep for a bit longer. Usually only until 7 or 7:30. It was a new and foreign environment to her – different sounds and smells. She was edgy and excitable. I’d stumble (still in pj’s) to the shared dining hall carrying Valentina on one arm and pushing the stroller with the other (which I had to use as a high chair). The staff would always remark “que madrugada es ella!” basically “what a frightfully early riser she is” and offer a half smile of pity. The kitchen staff was helpful cleaning and sterilizing bottles and heating up baked pieces of sweet potato, once steaming a small piece of chicken breast but it wasn’t my kitchen and it wasn’t four feet from the bedroom. During the day Valen and I kept to our usual routine of morning play, nap, lunch, more play, nap, dinner, play, bath, bed. During play sessions the abuelas joined us in our makeshift romperroom on the yoga mat in front of the fire. For the hour or so mid day when the sun was strongest, we bundled up and took the toys out to the lawn. But no one could help with the hardest part – naps and sleepy time. Valen struggled with me at every turn. Each time we settled down to get her to nap (3 times a day) the effort took no less than 20 minutes and every ounce of energy (mental and physical) I had – especially after less than 3 hours sleep. She was not at home and knew it. The second night I swore off the fireplace room and moved us into the main room (which actually had a wall heater). We decided that Utta was too much of a risk so banished her to sleep with Abuela Theresa – really not a banishment at all since Theresa adores all living creatures and easily coaxed Utta into a spooning position the first night. Valen tossed, turned and woke up four times – crying to be held, soothed, given a bottle. I tried it all but it just seemed she was uncomfortable. The next day was not a pretty one for me. Two days without sleep – the beauty and serenity of a relaxing country resort but no way to enjoy it was worse than torture. The grandmas took pity after lunch and demanded we leave Valentina with them for a few hours – they would “handle it”. Utta trotted off after them realizing without pause that they needed more supervision with this task than we did. We took a short walk and played pool with a nice couple in for a day only on a 10 year anniversary trip from Miami. Adult talk for a half hour. They left their 6 and 8 year old girls with her parents for a week. It was their first vacation without the kids in 8 years. Bleak but I could see it for us too….
Valen wouldn’t nap – big surprise even though they tried putting her in the stroller, giving a bottle etc. Finally she collapsed on my mom’s shoulder and shrieked with the slightest movement so they had to stay for 30 minutes laying on a lounge chair with the baby slung over her shoulder until she woke up. When I went to find them (after an unsuccessful attempt at a nap – outside the wood cutter chopping the hundreds of logs for the coming frosty evening), Valen was asleep on abuela Theresa’s chest in her room. An exhausting effort on all parts. Bari looked stunned and scarred “she just wanted her momma and nothing would make her stop crying”.
The third and final day I woke up, fed and dressed the baby and decided I would do something for me – even for half an hour. Something that I wanted to do. Something that I always loved to do coming to La Candelaria in the past. I wanted to go horseback riding. Not just riding. I wanted to gallop. I wanted to become one with natures saddle, feel the wind whip my hair, touch the treetops with my outstretched arms, and suck as much fresh air as humanly possible. It was I thought a reasonable want.
At 9:30am I left Valen happy and in Hugh’s care, walked over to the stables and asked the stablehand to saddle up the horse that loved to gallop. I was explicit. With a cigarette flopping in the corner of his mouth, he saddled her up and helped me on. We started walking away from the stable and towards a row of trees. Ahhhhhh, this is what I’ve been waiting for I thought. I am on a horse, enjoying nature, doing what I used to be able to do pre-pregnancy and finally on vacation. A second or two passed after the thought and the horse suddenly bolted forward into a race-like gallop. True, I’d asked for a galloper but I assumed (falsely in this case) that I’d be the one to decide when and if we’d gallop. With the first thundering down of the horses front hooves, I felt a crunch of verterbra in my spine and a pinch of seering pain in my low back. Owwwww. Not good. I pulled back on the reins as hard as I could and the horse started slowly to trot, then walk. I breathed again and thought foolishly, Ok. That sucked, but…..maybe I can save this. We’ll just walk around the property. I’ll enjoy that even though something really really messed up just happened back there with my back. The pain disappeared for a few minutes as we walked around the lush lawns. We came to a clearing – a field of soft dry grass that again I foolishly assumed we could gently walk through. The horse stepped into the field and took off like a circus monkey darting left, right, straight ahead at lightning speed, galloping, running , trotting – everything but not walking. My back screaming in agony and I desperately tried first to control the horse (didn’t work – she owned me) and then just slow her the fuck down. Eventully after a near throw, bucking incident, she slowed to a walk and we headed gingerly back to the stable. I considered dismounting on the way there in case she tried for another gallop but opted to just bare it until we got to safety. I slithered meekly off my mount and went immediately to my mom’s room. I did something to my back. Falling onto the bed face down. The deeper more acute spasms set in. I couldn’t walk, put weight on my feet, bend. We called in the estancia manager and he asked if I could feel my legs – yes, was I seeing ok, yes. I asked if there was a chiropractor in Lobos (the nearest town) and he looked at me hesitantly before replying “I’ll see what I can do”. 10 minutes later the door opened and two paramedics wheeled me out in a stretcher and down the road 15 miles in an ambulencia. They took a few x-rays, gave me a shot of anti-inflammatory and sent me back to the estancia. “stay off your feet as much as possible and don’t bend over!” yeah, right.
