Sleeping Like A Baby...

...is a very inaccurate metaphor.
Baby's do not sleep soundly. Nor do they sleep quietly, nor for long periods at a time.
In fact, new borns are really, freaking noisy sleepers. They sound like asthmatic hedgehogs dreaming of running, or snuffling, or possibly eating and drowning. Yes, at the same time.

Not only do they not sleep quietly, but they don't sleep for long. Maybe 4 hours in a stretch if you are lucky, and naughtily disobeying your midwifes strict instructions to feed them every 3 hours.

Looking after a baby is best summed up in one word.

Relentless.

For the first week of this ones life we were locked in a hospital where kind midwives would take her away in the middle of the night if my thoughts of "please can we give her back now," were becoming too obvious on my face. I didn't know who she was. I felt cheated out of that magical moment where your heart breaks when you first lay eyes on your baby. I kept waiting for it to happen.

For the second week, we were at home. Hubby and I putting in a valiant 'one night on one night off' team effort. Ourselves subsisting on meals made by friends, eaten in turns while the other comforted/fed/changed her. Stoically taking it in turns to have melt downs and question through exhausted tears our wisdom in taking this step, and our ability to actually keep ourselves alive, let alone one so dependant.

This week was week three. My motto has become "keep it together", played on repeat across the hours, which are now measured in feeds and sleeps and nappy changes. Hubby is now back at work, and we three have survived the first real week of the rest of our lives.

Our initial chance to bond with our daughter may have been interrupted by hospital incubators, IV lines and feeding tubes, but each day at home, I am getting to know her a little more. Each day I give her a few more kisses. Each day she feels a little bit more like she's my own, and a little less like a stranger. Each day we are keeping it together a little stronger, and becoming more of a family. Post natal depression hasn't got the best of me yet, and I intend to keep it that way.

Coming, Ready Or Not

Last weekend, just 3 hours before my pregnancy app alerted me to the fact that I had made it to 37 weeks, my waters broke.

Little baby A was born 25 hours later at 4.44am after a prolonged labour, the details of which I wont go in to on here. I have written it down though. If you want to read that, let me know and I will send you a link. Rest assured, I have a new found love of epidurals, and managed to avoid a C section by one contraction. It was the single most overwhelming experience of my life so far.

She was taken to NICU just a few hours after being born, which was super hard, nothing really prepares you for the sight of your baby in an incubator all connected to tubes, drips and breathing apparatus. My heart broke, and that was the first meltdown.

She was in there for two days, having antibiotics to help sort her breathing out. Once she was finally out, I was told we could go home tomorrow, this was after night three where I had a complete meltdown at eleven at night, basically begging the midwives to let me go home right then and there. They tried valiantly to convince me that leaving right then was not a good idea. It was too dark, it wouldn't be good for the baby, my husband was at home asleep. But nothing would help me. I was sharing a room, which I hate, the curtained off section I was in had no sunlight or view of any kind, the other lady's baby wouldn't settle, so regardless of how well baby A was sleeping, I was not. The midwives told me that there was no reason we couldn't go home tomorrow. Baby was doing much better, all her bloods looked good, and the talk was that I would be going home tomorrow. With this stuck firmly in my mind, I nodded acquiescence to have them take Baby away for a few hours so I could attempt to sleep (not that she was the one keeping me up).

At five in the morning, I was woken gently by another midwife, "Jess," she asked, "Did Baby have a bump behind her ear earlier? Where the forcep mark is?"
I felt my anxiety rising instantly as I shook my head, "No, it wasn't swollen, it was fine."
"Ok," She sat down next to me.
"It looks like the forcep graze may have become infected and the baby doctors want to put her on a three day course of antibiotics." She was watching me very intently.
I felt like I was being sucked into a black hole. "So I can't go home?"
she shook her head. "No, she will need to be monitored here."

I was silent, but my breathing was erratic as I tried to fight back the next onslaught of tears and anxiety.
"What can we do to make it easier for you to be here?" She asked quietly.
I shook my head, I couldn't think beyond having to stay here, I couldn't see anything that would make it better.
"What if we were to find you your own room?"
I looked at her, "Is that possible?" It seemed impossible.
"We've been talking about it, and we are going to see what we can make happen."

This past week has been a blur of nights becoming days becoming nights again. I did get my own room in the hospital finally, and as soon as I did, my panic attacks diminished, my milk started to come in, and my overwhelming need to keep some form of control in a 2x3 meter space disappeared.

We are finally home now. It is making a huge difference. Slowly things are starting to become a bit of a routine, but the lack of sleep, and getting breastfeeding going is an endless, ongoing exercise in endurance.
Lets see what next week brings, although I don't know when that will be. I have no idea what day it is anymore. I'm not sure why I care about that. As though it somehow makes a difference.

In the meantime, Baby and I will continue to get to know eachother. I love it when she makes eye contact and holds your gaze. I love that she settles on me so easily and that I can calm her when others cannot. I've always been slightly afraid of babies, and now suddenly here is one that actually calms down on me, rather than crying even louder.

Leaving Work - four weeks till due

I am now officially 36 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Which according to midwives and doctors (but not hypnobirthers) means that in 4 days, Baby will be 'full term'. Which means that she will no longer be considered premature if born now.

That seems crazy.
What's crazier is that there is an actual being which looks like a new born baby (or as Eric inTrue Blood would say "A tiny human") kicking up a storm in my belly. It's hard to imagine at times, as the shapes created by, and the intensity of the kicking/punching/rolling, is sometimes a little terrifying. I have been woken up by them a couple of times, it feels like she's trying to kick her way out of my stomach and burrow into the mattress. I have been assured this is probably not the case.

My maternity leave started this week, the weekend and last day of work was a bit of a weird mind trip. I love my work. I can't imagine not working. I have had my own income since I was 11. I have always worked and since leaving home have never been dependant on anyone. I feel that it wouldn't be so bad if I knew when I was going back. But the nature of my contract is that I won't be going back. My position wont be filled by someone on a fixed term maternity leave contract, whereby I can come back to it without any issue in a year. If I want to go back, I will have to hope there is an opening and apply for it along with everyone else.

Being part of a generation wherein women are expected to work, to have a career, to study, be smart and earn money, in an economy where one income is rarely enough to support a family, the new life just around the corner for me is a very scary and somewhat counterintuitive prospect. Give up everything I've studied and worked for, give up my income, halt my career path for an unspecified period of time, to stay home, look after a baby, keep the house, rely on my husband's income and.......and what?

There have been moments I have wondered if it wouldn't be a lot easier if gender roles were still a lot more specific. If we (girls) weren't expected to be everything, and do everything to be 'equal', if we could be considered successful and smart regardless of whether we were stay at home mums or career girls. I remember my Mum saying frequently that stay at home mums work harder than anyone else and she wished they could get paid. Before she had us kids, she was a career girl and good at it, I think that the change to being a Mum was probably a shock for her too. But she never really said it. She didn't get a job again until I was well into my teens. But then she stopped as quickly as she started, I think Dad didn't like the thought that he wasn't earning enough. Dad bought in the money, Mum looked after the house. I never questioned it.

I think of the early childhood memories I want to create for my daughter. How I don't want to put her in day care right away. How I don't want to have more children right away, because I want her to be the kid in the family for a decent amount of time, not the helper. That I want her to feel safe and loved by her family. How I desperately want to do right by her and how the closer she gets to arriving, the more I'm suddenly willing to sacrifice to make sure that she has the best possible life I can give her.

Then I remember how much I love my job, and I am at square one on the cognitive dissonance board once again.

It's only been three days on maternity leave, and I already have lost track of what day it is. I seem to be texting my midwife with questions at least twice a day with questions which I could probably google answers for, but would rather not freak myself out.

"Baby isn't moving as crazily as normal, should I be worried?" 

"Maybe, if you are worried, you could come in for a scan,  but then you'll be on the doctors radar, and if they get overly cautious they could try to induce you. See how it goes tonight."

"Is this increase in *insert bodily fluid here* normal, or am I going into labour?"

 "Is there blood? No? Then you are not in labour."

"I've got really painful period type cramps..."

"See above message" 

"My Husband has gastro, if I catch it will it hurt the baby?" 

"No, Baby will be fine. You'll be pretty miserable though."

Going to find the Dettol now. Husband sleeping in spare room. Hand sanitiser everywhere!
Yes, poor dear Husband has gotten sick. Which sucks for both of us. He feels rubbish, I feel rubbish for not feeling more enthusiastic about looking after him.
NB My midwife is actually really cool. Not like the above semi fictional replies might indicate.

Nesting has taken control of my psyche in a way I never anticipated!
Remember those drawers I started to paint? Here's what they look like now.

AMAZING!

Of course, after this success, my redecorating instincts could see no limits, and I proceeded to spend an afternoon recovering our boring dining chairs.

The dreary before chairs 

The amazing after chairs! Woot!

More time was spent establishing a hanging vege garden on the patio. Making four batches of muffins for the freezer. Making prepared slow cooker meals for the freezer. Washing all the baby clothes. Doing an epic clothing 'purge'. Trying to get rid of as much crap as possible from all random areas of the house.

By Monday I was tired, so I stopped.

Then Husband got sick.

Then it rained and hailed a bit.

Now I don't know what day it is anymore!

Probably isn't helpful that I haven't changed the calendars...

But I'm too scared to, because then it really WILL be September. 

I'm not mentally ready for this yet!

On Men I Want To Punch In the Face - and some other stuff

So here I am again, for the second time this week, at home rather than at work, and feeling completely EXHAUSTED. My hormones have reached yet another level of crazy - although this week they seem to be aimed out our government instead of my Husband which is a relief. Still, my feelings of utter rage towards the PM's snarky-smug-rich-pasty-ruining-my-dreams-of-home-ownership face on the TV do leave us both concerned about the safety of our television.

I'm having some intense dreams, mostly about the state of the planet and the guilt I feel about bringing a new person into it, in it's current state of affairs. I even dreamt there was a public service announcement on the news saying that this generation of kids would be the last the earth would see because things had got so bad! Needless to say - GUILT TRIP! I am now looking into nappy recycling and installing a stand alone rain water tank and perhaps finding a way to collect our waste water for the garden and learning how to compost properly. Trying to plan my vege garden to be as effective as possible in the space we have, and even, perhaps, just being ready to go be survivalists in the bush.
Husband's not so keen on that one. Plus, as renters (he calmly points out), "probably installing a waste water collection system is not such a great idea." Husband says "we can do that when we own a house". 
"Own a house?!" Is my incredulous reply.

"At this rate the #$&*#??!!!! PM's snarky-smug face isn't going to let us own anything!!!!"

(It is a little infuriating, that two nearly 30 year olds with a total of 13 years of University education between them, who have impeccable credit ratings, have never failed a bond inspection or been in trouble with the law, who have both worked full time up till now with no kids, cannot foresee owning a house in the next five years, probably more.)

A lot of homeowners try to make me feel better by saying things like - but you don't have to pay rates, you aren't responsible for the upkeep of your house. True, but we also get inspected every three months, we can't own a dog, we can't paint or decorate, we can't put in the dream vege garden from my head, we are constantly planning to have to move, and we are paying more in rent, than we would be if we had a mortgage. I'm worried that our baby will draw on the walls. I am worried that something will break and it will be our fault. The amount of stress involved in a flat inspection is just not on. So yes, I still dream of owning my own house, despite our current house being a super awesome place to live.

Anyway, back to Baby.

I am flitting between calm belief that I can do this without problems, and then overwhelming anxiety that a) I will force us into an emergency birth by panicking and letting too much adrenalin and cortisol into my system. Or b) I will be a terrible mum. Or c) I have already ruined my baby's life by eating too much McDonalds whilst pregnant.

I have washed most of the baby stuff now, such cute clothes that I hope she fits. My new fear is that she will be 8 pounds of more, and not fit any of the cute new born stuff we have for her! The staff are running a sweepstake on the weight at school, which is kind of more than a little embarrassing.

Much as I love my job, and know that I will probably go crazy when maternity leave really starts, it's a bit of a relief to not have to be there sometimes. To have a break from feeling like a new breed of Hippo while I lug my laptop between classrooms, or go all the way to the photocopy room only to realise I've forgotten to bring the photocopying with me. On monday I found myself in the deputy principals office desperately trying not to become 'the crying pregnant woman', as I explained that I didn't think I'd be able to last until the end of next week, as the pain associated with walking (feet, back, hips, groin, sides, legs...pretty much everything), and the exhaustion of not sleeping longer than an hour at a time (night sweats, toilet, rolling over, nightmares), all combined with my overwhelming self guilt trip over my declining teaching standards as a result (lack of energy, lack of excitement, sitting down all the time) were all making things pretty near unbearable. He was super understanding and showed me that I can take time off whenever needed, and that everyone is in place to take over my classes from monday. Of course, I didn't mention about the douchebag male staff members making teasing comments (about my walk, my weight, my mood, the labour, the birth, my teaching) that make me want to cry. Of course, they think they are absolutely hilarious.

They are lucky I don't have the balls to actually punch them in the face.

Insanity At 34 Weeks

Well, Miltown. I'd like to know what side effects you caused that meant you are no longer curing 88% of pregnant women of anxiety, insomnia and emotional upsets. Where were you last weekend when I had a complete meltdown and for some reason thought that locking my poor darling husband in the garage was the appropriate response to what had begun as a minor argument.

NB - my sister talked me into letting him out within 10 minutes via text. He had by that time, got a sleeping bag and made a bed in the back of the car. We'd both like to thank my sister for quickly texting some sense into me. I realise, that I can now expect that to be used against me for pretty much anything that pops up in the future. There is nothing ok about what I did.

I was temporarily Insane.
For an entire weekend.

That said, it is fair to say that things are heating up. At 34 weeks, I am now having night sweats. Which, let me tell you, are a little more intense than the average "I'm-too-hot-must-remove-some-covers" night sweats. These involve me waking up LITERALLY DRENCHED, having to change pyjamas, wipe off with a flannel, let the bed air out. By which time, I am wide awake and once again need to pee. When I get back the sheets are freezing and still damp, so I've recently taken to sleeping on a towel, but that only stops the bottom sheet getting wet. Somehow, my husband manages to sleep through all of this. I did wake him up once, to check that I wasn't imagining it, but it took him so long to awaken from his peaceful slumber, that there wasn't much left to see. The midwife says it's hormonal, and there are no tricks that she can recommend to help. But I already knew that, because by the time I asked her about it, I'd already well researched it on google.

Little Baby is now taking up so much room, I am worried about how much space can be left to occupy. She is kicking and rolling and punching up a storm, and has an uncanny knack of ensuring my bladder gets pummelled at least 3 times a class, twice when I'm driving, anytime I'm sitting somewhere very difficult to get up from. Which is giving those pelvic floor muscles little emergency incontinence 'drills'. "Are you ready? No? Well I don't care! WHACK!"



I'm managing my anxiety relatively ok, the hypnobirthing thinking and relaxation is most definitely helping. All the same, I am finding that if I am left alone for too long, I start thinking far too much, and start to panic a little....ok a lot, about labour and my ability to cope with sleep deprivation, to be a good mum, to be a good wife, to be able to let go of a lot of things and make friends with other mums. We are the first of our friends to have a baby, so it's a little daunting.





On the other hand, I've got all these plans for when Baby gets here. We are going to make an awesome potted Vege garden....or rather, I will, and the baby will be there in her bouncinet, carefully covered in baby safe sunscreen (which I bought this week). We will go for walks with her in the pram, and we will visit library story times, and play groups, and we will go to mums'n'bubs sessions at the movies when she's old enough and..and...and.....there is just SO MUCH FUN WE WILL HAVE!

Please don't be late Baby! I have no where left to grow, and I can't wait to hang out with you!

Baby Kickboxers, Bedtime Stories, Classes and Workouts

Baby is at 33 weeks now - and we are so close and yet still so far from meeting her. I read a blog yesterday about people getting told they were having a girl on four different occasions from four different scans, but the baby still came out a boy....so now Hubby and I are back to calling it 'It' for a while. 

Anyway, Baby is producing some epic kicks and rolls now. It's like having a tiny acrobat in my tummy, yet I never seem able to get Hubby to see or feel the really big moves. It's like a cruel trick, I alert him to what's happening, he eagerly looks or feels, and Baby stops. Just long enough for him to decide Baby doesn't like him, and for him to go away feeling glum. On the upside, we (I mean Husband) is reading 'The Faraway Tree' aloud each night for Baby to get used to his voice and 

(hopefully) to boost It's love of stories and general awesomeness. If nothing else, I'm rather enjoying being transported back to my own childhood each evening, although the stories seem rather a lot more scary than I remember, and I'm wondering if they aren't a source of my original anxiety issues - strong winds meaning bad things, getting trapped in strange places with no way out.......

But enough of that! I've decided that the third trimester is designed to force mothers to strengthen their arms in preparation of the impending Baby carrying duties. I sure feel like I am working out my biceps on a regular basis, pushing myself up out of bed, off couches, pulling myself out of the car, lifting myself out of the bath. Not just that, but the number of times I must wake up each night is certainly good training for living with a new born....otherwise what's the point?

I think I have everything ready now. My (expensive!) very awesome nappy bag arrived last week, and I already have it packed and ready to go with whatever Baby might need. I really just want It to arrive, so that I can see and hold and cuddle and just....be with It. I am really struggling to keep my head in the game at work, and not just because walking while carrying laptops and books and folders is now a super undesirable activity, but because the date of arrival is drawing ever closer and I just get too excited to worry about whether 'johnny' understands what a city state is, or if 'jane' really gets what I mean when I say 'four beats per bar' and she nods in agreement. But I'm doing my best, I try to get up and walk around the classroom as much as possible. I try to still think of and create interesting activities if I can. Next week is a giant choir festival which I unwittingly created last year, so once that is over, the countdown can really begin.

Hubby and I have all but abandoned out antenatal classes in favour of the hypnobirthing ones. Antenatal classes seem to focus on every possible bad outcome, all the pain relief available, all the medical interventions, and to be honest, they freaked me out. After hearing about the three stages of Labour over the course of 3 weeks, my anxiety had sky rocketed again and I was starting to have panic attacks when I was left alone for any amount of time. On the other hand, hypnobirthing focuses on the fact that birth is a normal process, it's happened for thousands of years, all over the world, to mothers in far less favourable conditions than ours. It teaches you that your body and the Baby know what to do, and that in order for that to happen best, the mother needs to be as relaxed as possible. We have another session tomorrow, and I'll write a post dedicated to it. Needless to say, if nothing else, it is definitely keeping me calm, positive and relaxed in the lead up to the delivery day. 

In the meantime, we are going to see The Conjuring tonight....and YES, I did check with my midwife, that that was ok. 

Look! Baby is rolling over now!! ......oh wait, you missed it. :( 

I reckon, our baby will be THIS CUTE

Being Informed

 Being Informed 

(aka societies distinct oversight in leaving women unprepared for pregnancy)

I am not convinced, that society has really moved on from the days when this add was acceptable. It seems that pregnancy is still a huge secret, something you only get to learn about if you actually enter into it's hallowed halls. How have we managed to get to a place, where we actively teach kids about puberty in schools, we give out our pre-adolescent girls 'sample packs' at age 9, we have baskets of condoms for the taking at many youth facilities, we see frequent and more graphic adds for tampons, liners and erectile disfunction, and don't even mention the amount of sex and female nudity we see in the movies. Oh yeah - and the laughable fake pregnancies and birth scenes which every now and then we are treated to. Yet still we are all allowed to enter adulthood and at some stage, our own pregnancy knowing very, very little about what 'being pregnant' actually entails.

Before I got pregnant, I knew precisely the following.

• How to get pregnant.
• That I'd get bigger and gain weight.
• That morning sickness hit most women and was awful and could continue right through.
• That labour hurt. A lot.

I may have had some vague notions surrounding things like stretch marks, practise contractions, that bleeding during pregnancy was bad and that pre-eclampsia was something I really didn't want. But in all honesty, that was it.

Before I got pregnant I was panicked about morning sickness, about the loss of control I'd have over my body and about the labour. 

Before I got pregnant, I knew nothing. And nothing is what I expected.

Re. Ality. Check.

My body is giving me so many surprises lately, that I don't think I can take anymore. I now have to wake up  and sit up, in order to roll over, as the weight of the baby makes my back click and and my hips scream STOP. I am having to learn all these 'secrets of pregnancy' at a super fast rate. Because NOBODY tells you about it before you get there. I had never heard of Colostrum or Breast Pads, or Maternity Pads, or Breast Pumps, or disposable hospital underwear before this year.  I didn't know that you would start leaking Colostrum before you'd even had the baby. I didn't know that your stomach stayed 'pregnant' after the baby was born. I didn't know that you'd bleed after giving birth, and most likely have to throw all your post-birth undies away. I didn't know about mucous plugs or 'bloody show' or the sacram or practise contractions, that it really hurts in the first trimester to sneeze or cough, that in the third trimester I'd get so huge I would actually need help getting in and out of the bed/bath/chair/car, be in constant pain and discomfort and want to sleep all the time.

Now that I am pregnant, I now understand why no-one really talks about it.

It's horrible. It's gross. It's uncomfortable and it's incredibly personal.

But that doesn't excuse the lack of knowledge non-mothers have about pregnancy and birth. If you don't understand the reality, you aren't fully informed. If you are not fully informed, how can you possibly be expected to make the right decision about anything. It's the reason we are going through pregnancies freaking out at every new twinge or 'leakage' that occurs, because we really don't know what is or isn't normal. It's akin to going to the airport with a suitcase of your favourite beach clothes, getting on a plane with no idea where you're going, spending the whole time dreaming about oceans and sand, then landing in Alaska with no return ticket and being greeted by a guide speaking a language you barely understand who tells you 'well, now you're here, this is how you survive.'

Before I got pregnant, I was adament that I'd have an epidural, gas, drugs, anything to get me through labour and out the other side, and more than likely was going to have an elective C-section in order to avoid it altogether. 

Since I've been pregnant, I have completely changed my mind about labour, I now want it to be as natural as possible, because now I'm aware of what actually goes along with having a c-section, drugs or an epidural. 

I can't wait to meet my daughter. But I want to meet her wide awake.