Home » Articles posted by myownmummy

Author Archives: myownmummy

Motherhood is not a Huggies commercial (By Guest Blogger Mrs J)

Posted on by | Leave a comment

Let’s start with a little history ,,,,,,

My husband and I got married in September last year, the day was everything I had imagined and more. We honeymooned in Fiji and spent the week in wedded bliss.  Not long after we had returned I realised that I was pregnant ( 3 home tests and a visit to the GP confirmed it). I told my husband who was elated.  I on the other hand, was in shock! Complete and utter shock! We had planned to have children, but not so soon; I had recently started a new job, we only had one car, and I was not sure that I was ready to be a mum and I had only just become a wife after all.

So during the pregnancy I started to embrace it, after all I had this amazing gift to be able to grow life where so many people struggle with falling pregnant and being able their carry their babies.

My pregnancy was not an easy one apparently. From the beginning I had to give myself clexane injections for a blood clot I had 5 years ago ( I still remember sitting on the edge of the bed with my hubby, crying trying to give myself this needle), then I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes (and insulin dependant, so yep another needle to poke into myself) and high blood pressure.  Being a bit over weight as well, as my baby grew I just kept feeling fatter and fatter. With all of this going on in my pregnancy I kept waiting for what I call “my beautiful butterfly moment”.  Where my skin would glow, my hair was luscious, oh and those sex crazed hormones that are meant to occur in the second trimester.  Well all I can say is that I am still waiting!!!

So that leads me to June this year when our beautiful son was born ( another shock as I thought we were having a girl, we never found out the sex). Here is this tiny person that is totally dependant on me, me a person that knows nothing about being a mum, me who is apparently meant to know what his every need is, me who is meant to have this unconditional love. Don’t get me wrong I do love my son unconditionally but staring at this tiny human I was feeling completely overwhelmed and daunted by the whole experience.

Fast forward 6 months and we have made it! We have managed to keep our son alive for a whole 6 months, I am really not sure how we have done it. After all every one will tell you that your doing things wrong! Or you should be doing it this way not that way! Not to mention your own guilt! Oh and of course there’s the books that tell you what your baby should be doing and naturally your baby does this, so with that in mind I am amazed we have made 6 months!

I have learnt so much in the past 6 months that I never knew about myself and of course babies and relationships. I’ll highlight some of them

1) I can survive with minimal sleep. I have gone from a lover of 8 + hours sleep to being excited if I get 5 hours straight!

2) unfortunately for me my son hasn’t read the books, or googled every sign and symptom so neither should I. Now more than ever I need to trust myself and my instincts.

3) to all those people that insist on giving me advice when I have not asked for it, STOP! You have raised your children, it is now my chance to raise mine and hopefully, just hopefully I will do a good enough job that he won’t need to go to years of therapy, So back off.

4) I need to relinquish control. I am now not in control of everything.  This is exceptionally hard for me and something that I am still learning to do, and will constantly evolve and learn as I go.

5) sleep deprivation does crazy things to one’s relationship. You can argue about the smallest of things, or even just a look.  Lucky for me I have a fabulous husband who is a very proactive daddy so understands where I am coming from too.  And we have strengthened our marriage through communication.

6) last of all motherhood is not a Huggies commercial. What do I mean by this?

I look at these adds that depict motherhood as this fabulous,loving,life embracing moment. Don’t get me wrong it is all of these things but not all the time. It is ok to not feel all of these things all of the time, like at 3am when your baby is screaming and won’t feed and nothing you can do will help them and the amount of frustration and fatigue you feel far out weighs the love that you feel.  The more that I acknowledge this, the better off I will be not only as a person but as a mum too.

When I was asked to write for My Own Mummy I thought what could I possibly say, well now I can’t stop writing!

The past 15 months has been the most exciting, frightening, exhilarating, scary and most amazing time in my life. I have learnt so much and continue to learn each and every day.  I take my hat off to all the parents out there now, and I have the utmost admiration now for my own mum.  Each day I need to remind myself that this is my life, my journey and I need to be kind to myself.  There is no such thing as a Huggies commercial, just life!

Comparisons, Choices and Cheerleaders

Posted on by | Leave a comment

A friendly loving reminder, was what it took this time, to persevere with another blog entry. A dear friend, whom knows me quite well, gently reminded me that someone enjoys my blog and that even that doesn’t matter so long as I enjoy it. You see I never started a blog for fame or popularity but simply for someone to enjoy my writing, my style, my take on things. I think because of the beautiful world that can be generated by social media, I began to put a value on my “worth”. Somewhere along the line I starting using numbers as validation that my effort was worthwhile and it meant I was “good at this”. So I stopped. I stopped thinking about what I wanted to say and write. All because I didn’t get some magic number of likes or page hits on my website. I hate numbers generally speaking, so why should it matter. Why do we need numbers, notifications, friends requests, likes, or emoticons to validate our life moments so much these days? Which in turn got me thinking about the vile judgemental world than can be whipped up quicker thana Queen Elsa storm when one mummy makes a statement or choice that another doesn’t agree with.

I’ve been hung up on time an awful lot lately. The time I’m not getting with my children. The time I’m not using as a proper mum should be. The time I choose to use by sleeping instead of dragging myself out if bed to do exercise that I loathe. The time spent collapsed on the couch because my brain cannot function properly to play housewife after working and fighting the epic battle that is story and bedtime. Time, time time! I hate it so muchlately that I have not bothered to replace my watch battery.

But why? I couldn’t understand why the obsession. Then it hit me after reading an article (referred by previously mentioned friend whom endured my rant over time). I was doing the very thing that I was trying to avoid when I started my blog. Comparing myself! I am woman, I have a choice. I stand proudly by my choice but not everyone would think I am doing the best I can as a mummy.

So whilst I envisioned the following statements being in a warm and fuzzy story, I’m going to embrace what I wanted MY OWN MUMMY to be and use my blog to be just me.

I’ve got some awesome girlfriends! You know you are awesome right? I have friends that stay home with their little people and make it look like a breeze. I have friends that are raising their babies on their own and by heavens they do a great job. I’ve got friends whom are married but still do it all by themselves. Friends that stress over all the little things like routine and clean outfits, friends that have endless patience and energy. I love them all. For all sorts of reasons. But I find myself comparing myself to them at times.

Somedays I so want to be a different type of mummy. Somedays I want to be the mummy that does need or want to work. Eventually it passes. What doesn’t pass is the want to be a different mummy. I want to learn to ignore those dishes on the sink. I want to ignore the washing and sit in my pjs all weekend in front of of fire and just play randomness games. But I can’t. I just cannot. Why? What is so wrong with my makeup that it doesn’t allow me to just sit and be with them and cherish the random toys around the house? Why can’t I just sit and be a mummy to the two people in the world that don’t care about anything else but me sitting and playing or pushing the swing for endless hours. Why cannot I not just put the first and worry about all the other jobs later.

Do all mummies feel like this? Do we all think we are not doing even a semi decent job? Women are funny creatures even at our finest moments. We are our own biggest critics. We hold our own child raising theories and practises like a sword or shield depending on the situation. But then we can be each other’s biggest cheerleaders.

So I ask you this? Either publicly or privately be honest about your fears as a mummy. To yourself, to your partner, to your cheerleading BFF. But please please please always be a cheerleader to your friends. Be a supporter to those women that parent differently. You have no idea of their circumstances. Remember that in today’s society we women get the power of choice. You don’t get to judge other women’s choices; breast or bottle, attachment or babywise, married or single, working in or out of the home. Today we are afforded a choice. Sometimes choice comes with a burden, try to ease burden and be a Cheerleader. Xo

Enough with the Labels…

Posted on by | Leave a comment

The mummy debate! Do you have an opinion? Should mummies stay home? Should mummies work part time? Is it ok for children to be in care up to 40 hours per week? Do children deserve our undivided attention? Should they be socialising early on? Do you have an opinion?
Of course you do. We all do. We all have feelings. We all think and analyse and examine and second guess ourselves and compare ourselves and … the list goes on. The truth is we are are born with a brain, consequently we all have a point of view on everything. Sometimes that point of view is one of indifference but it is still your very own point of view.
As mothers and fathers we all just want one thing. Regardless of our income, address, marital status or job title we just want to raise happy and well-adjusted children. Our theories on reaching that goal are different. But We are all different. This is something I have to keep telling myself over and over again in the last few months since returning to work.
You see I have many mummy friends, whom I admire for various reasons. I have friends whom are full time stay at home mummies who do amazing jobs day in and out. They make it look easy. I have friends who juggle part time work, motherhood and study. Sometimes believe it or not they almost look tired doing that. But they do it. Of course there are the full time out of the home working mummies who still have to do the housework and spend time with the children as well as turn up for work motivated and productive. I have friends that are still in the process of becoming a mummy who already have to make the heart wrenching decisions about how long they can stay home with their newborn before they have to return to the workforce. Whatever type of mummy you have chosen to be you have made sacrifices either emotionally, physically or financially. For that you must not apologise.
We seem to judge other parents so often but do we ever stop to think that there may be more to the story. At the very least, we do seem like a good label. I am not sure if labelling makes people feel more comfortable in knowing what to expect from a person or if we just like to label so as we can tick off some imaginary checklist in our heads that help us reconcile what we deem “normal” in our own little worlds.
I saw an article recently titled “Stop the Mommy Wars” from herscoop.com. It had a series of photos of women making a simple statement about the choices they have made for themselves and their families. It totally resonated with me simply because we, as women, have a choice and that alone is reason enough to come together. We have a choice about what WE want from our own lives. Being a mother or father is a gift. For some being a parent defines us, makes our mark in the world and that is truly satisfying. For others there is a need to contribute to the workforce while at the same time juggling the roller coaster ride of parenthood. Does that make one parent better at child raising better or just different.
I truly am tired of the debates we cause between each other. We are all doing the best we can with the skills and knowledge that we have. Surely that is enough. Surely that is all we can ask of ourselves for each day. Of course there will be some days that we will do an amazing job of something, exceeding our skills or knowledge. Give yourself a high five and for heavens sake don’t mount that high horse, because tomorrow it might be an awfully long fall for you. Especially if you add a little personality into the mix (by little I am referring to your little ones personality).
We all have good, great and bad days with our kiddies. Sometimes it is because of our parenting choices and some days it is because our little person just has a bad day. It just makes us parents and nothing else. No need for labels really just another opportunity to make a choice to get through the day with a happy and safe child. Which is a little tricky from a pigeon hole right?
However because I am feeling inspired I am going to make some personal statements knowing that you, my beautifully supportive readers, will hopefully still enjoy my company after you have read these. More importantly I am confident that you are all thinking women and you will respect my right to choose regardless of or in spite of my reasons because ultimately I have the right to choose.
So here goes;
• I choose for my relationship with my husband to come first. I want my children to learn what a healthy respectful relationship can achieve when tested against anything life will throw at it. So far so good we still love each other so that is helpful. However our marriage comes first. We need to be a team. Of course the needs of the children come before our own but for us if we are strong we can take on the world and set a damn good example for the wee ones. Strength in unity.
• I chose to feed my child. How is not important. But in the interest of full disclosure I bottle feed. It is not what is put into the bottle but what is put into the feed. I tried breastfeeding, I tried expressing. I couldn’t manage to get it working despite my efforts. It was not an easy decision, especially considering the battle of the prem baby but I had to make a decision. Guess what I endured the guilt and the nasty looks and the advice and damn tv commercials reminding me every few hours that I couldn’t not quite make my boobs do what they were designed to do and now I am on the other side. I still hold my 15month old when he has his bottle before bed. It is about nourishment and I did what I had to do for my babies.
• I choose to work. Personal circumstance has changed the arrangements to something I was not quite ready for but I had to make a choice. Some days I could not imagine not working and some days I wish that I just did not have to. Other days I simply feel like a crappy mum because I am not there with them. It is what it is. I like working, I need to work. I feel better about being me if I work. Sure I miss out on hours with my children but that does not necessarily mean I miss out on moments with them. I get guilty that I can’t do play dates during the week and that we have to have end of day discussion in the car and sometimes I carry them sleeping from the car and have to save our conversations till morning. But my sacrifice now will hopefully pay off down the track with some freedom of a different kind.
• I tried control crying. It did not work. We ended up at a paediatric sleep specialist and a whole lot of answers and consequently sleep. At first I blamed our parenting though and took the hard line. It broke me. I spent time sitting in the hallway crying with the baby. Yelling at my husband. Wanting the damn baby to just sleep. Always blaming myself. What did I do differently? Is this because I am not doing one on one time enough? I tried, it did not work for our baby, either baby actually but for different reasons.
• I cannot tolerate whining. I see red. I don’t tolerate it from adults and I sure as eggs won’t tolerate it from my children. I teach my children, particularly my daughter, not to whine but to problem solve. I have taught her to say “I am not a whinger I am a problem solver”. Harsh? Maybe. Life lesson, you bet your smartphone it is. She is strong, independent and driven. I want her to problem solve, I want to embrace her hard headedness. I am proud of her. In this house, we don’t “do” damsels in distress. Sure I let her watch Disney movies occasionally (when she is allowed to watch tv) but guess what her favourite is, of all the movies they have produced and a mother whom is a hopeless romantic, she adores FROZEN. Yes ladies and gentlemen she will pay for and build her own home Elsa style, so help me god.
• I hate exercise. I know I need to do it, I just don’t enjoy the usual forms. I prefer to clean and tidy the house and read a good book. I am not proud of the fact that I dislike exercise and heaven knows it can cause some friction in the home on occasions (Captain Happy is an exercise nut whom cannot sit still, until he falls in a heap of exhaustion and is useless to even converse with). I have put it on the “self improvement list” but I make no promises to like it.
And some quick ones to wrap it up
• I have lost all my pregnancy weight but I need to lost the pre-pregnancy weight now too.
• I was traumatised by the birth of baby number one emotionally and physically
• I use disposable nappies
• I allow my kids to eat fast food on occasion but don’t offer dessert unless it is a special occasion.
• We sometimes do timeout
• We have a bedtime routine but sometimes we just throw it out the window and enjoy the moment.
• We are a force to be reckoned with. We love our extended families but our world begins and ends with the four of us
To my friends, who have possibly recognised themselves in this blog and have also possibly smiled in recognition of my quirks. Does this make you feel any differently about me as your friend? I feel the same of you. I don’t label you, you just are my beautiful friends. I don’t care if you work at home, in the home, out of the home or on the moon. You are just a cool person that inspires me to be a better me.
So here is my conclusion. Feel free to label me and others if, and only if, you are comfortable being put into a pigeon hole yourself. If you don’t like the idea of that and want to be considered as a person with choices then “Hello friend lets change the world”
Lets proudly wear the badge of “PARENT”
I am a parent. I do the best I can each day with the choices, challenges, skills, knowledge, love and energy that I have on that day. Yes I plan for the future and parent accordingly but I can only do what I can do on the day.
Now that is a badge we can all wear with pride especially when having to make some tough choices!

Love My Own Mummy

The Girl Who Cried Giant

Posted on by | Leave a comment

Our Miss 3 has always been a strong spirited little treasure. She knows just how to test every theory, pre-conception and confidence we ever had in relation to parenting. She is however our little girl and despite wanting to run a mile some days just to escape the constant/relentless/spirit testing questioning she exudes, she is generally pretty cool. She is strong willed, independent, curious, hard nosed and annoyingly clever. We clash at every turn, quite literally. I am proud of her determined nature, her natural courage, her energy except when it is directed at me of course.

She has always been difficult to get to sleep. I am not sure if that is due to her being in hospital so long surrounded by nurses that would tend to her at all hours or just because she was put on this earth to test her parents (I am guessing the latter). Anyhow she was always difficult right up until she turned three and then something just clicked and all the hard work and perseverance had paid off. She was put to bed and she stayed there. No drink requests, no imaginary friend being too noisy in the cupboard, just sleep.

Because of the previous history we were not surprised when she introduced “giants” to the bedtime routine. I am not sure where it came from or in fact why she thinks there are “giants” in her room or the house but she does. The best we have come up with is it’s possibly headlights casting shadows on windows. It started out as just a statement and she was placated by one of us simply asking the giants to go home and let her sleep. Recently, in the last, month, it seems to be a genuine fear rather than just an excuse to get some extra attention before sleeping. It was taking a cuddle and flooding the room and hallway with light to convince her that all was normal and safe.

Tonight was different. She was well behaved, was reasonably happy to go to bed even though we had left story time too late and had to take a raincheck. She was quiet and I assumed she was sleeping. I was chatting on the phone to a girlfriend when a little voice called to me. I listened to what she was wanting to tell me and dismissed her complaint of giants as just an excuse to talk on the phone (latest craze).

I went to return her back to bed after finishing the phone call but something on the TV caught my eye (ok not my greatest mummy moment but I was tired) right at the same time she started a blood curdling scream whilst staring down the hallway. It was so different and so clearly a terrified scream that I almost wanted to run to the hallway expecting someone there. I swallowed my own fear and crossed the room and scooped her up. She was literally shaking and sobbing and still yelling. I managed to translate that there was a “little giant” coming to get her. So I immediately flooded the entire house with light, praying that the screaming hadn’t woken the sleeping baby at the end of the hall. We walked all through the house including the bedrooms to show her that there was nothing to be scared of. I immediately said to her “See there are no giants”. What I so wished that I had said was “there is nothing to be scared of”. My intentions were to remove the fear in warp speed time but did I just in fact tell my very impressionable baby that “you are just seeing things silly girl”? I certainly wasn’t wanting to take away from the obvious fear she felt, gosh she scared the daylights out of me for a second; but did I just dismiss that fear rather than address the cause and reassure her that her little bubble was safe.

Putting aside my stupid overthinking brain I put on my nurturing hat and took action. Normally I would be totally efficient and put her back to bed gently saying that all is well and its time to go to sleep and mummy would make sure no one was in her room. Not tonight. Tonight I just sat on the couch, held her shaking little body, wiped away the last of the tears and let her fall asleep in my arms. Who cares that she was held to fall asleep, that we sat on the couch, that I held her far longer than I needed to even though she was fast asleep.

Every parent has this moment and probably more than one. I am not claiming to be special at all. I am just wondering whether sometimes we could think about what we brush over and what we stop and take stock of. I am usually the one of those people that doesn’t dwell too much, just gets on with something and avoids the drama were possible. Truth be told I think I might actually be too obsessed with this approach that it has become a habit and security blanket.

Am I only one that wishes, usually all too late, that they could have answered better, more honestly or more genuinely; rather than the answers that immediately come to mind.

M.O.M

A promise allowing for reality…

Posted on by | Leave a comment

Driving to work yesterday I had the radio on. Not thinking about the date too much, I was not entirely prepared for the 911 tribute/snippet that came across. It was tasteful and appropriate and a fitting reminder. It was the unclassified parts from that day of the air traffic control staff and phrases from people at ground zero. What I didn’t factor in was the amazing mind of my Miss Three.
I assumed she was staring out the window at the trees and canola (a current fascination) but she heard every second of the 60second tribute. Her questions were as follows; “Mummy what happened to those people?” “Why did the man crash the plane, why did the naughty man crash the plane, why did he want to hurt people, but why?” I’m sure you can input what my answers were to each questions (while holding back the urge to cry because my precious little people were born into a time that has such atrocities). This was the abridged version mind you. I honestly did my best to answer as honestly and as age appropriately as I could. I wasn’t prepared to lie to her but she didn’t need all the details and she certainly didn’t need to feel the enormity and fear that came with that fateful day.
And that was where it all hit me like a freight train. The next words out of her mouth I expected because she is quite clever but didn’t expect the light bulb moment I had. “Mummy will the man hurt me?” “NO baby absolutely no way in hell while I’m breathing will anything hurt you. Daddy and I won’t let anyone hurt you” I honestly meant what I had said. These were my exact words to her and I meant it with every fibre of my being. But for all my intention and promise there are a hundred outside influences that render my intentions useless.
We work so hard teaching our children their manners and etiquette. We obsess over how we and others nourish their infants. We dream over baby catalogues during pregnancy planning the perfect nursery. We spend hours preparing nutritionally balanced meals and checking food labels for sugar content and preservatives. We agonise over our parenting techniques.
But there are just some things, some lessons, some realities that we cannot change or shield our precious treasures from.
So I want to reworded my promise to Miss Three
“While ever I am on this earth, you will be safe in knowing that I will show you how to treat others. I will show you how to work hard. I will show you how to enjoy the colour of the canola in spring time. Il do my best to be the parent you need and deserve. Il try to be a good wife/partner to your Daddy so you can form healthy relationships. I will teach you not how to dance but how to feel the music that draws out the dancer. And finally I will with my heart on my sleeve teach you to rise up from setbacks or devastation and instead of fear, find joy in simple things. This promise will help you deal and protect you from whatever life may throw at you.”
As a parent we need to reconcile with the reality that we cannot protect them from everything. We can try, we can anticipate but we are only human. We can arm them with the ability to breath in the sunshine and warm up their tummies, the eyes to look at beauty in simple things like dew on a spiders web at sunrise and the courage to fight for justice and fairness.
Thank you Miss Three you never cease to amaze me with your little mind. Keep thinking five steps ahead of me one day I might even catch up for a moment
Rest in Peace to the souls of 911.

Captain Happy; a brief explanation

Posted on by | Leave a comment

Life of the everyday ordinary kind has a funny way of getting in the road of those little dreams and goals we set for ourselves. begin to realise and then selflessly put on the shelf to deal with other things. My writing was no exception to this little reality check. I knew it had been way too long since my last post. I was conscious of the time because I followed the days by reading my prem’s hospital journal that I kept so diligently. But reading was easier than writing, so the time slipped by. Well by slipped by I mean that it wasn’t all sweetness and light and playdoh. My little family had some major changes and decisions to make and execute. The biggest of which was a shift in locations and a role reversal. In the space of a few weeks we moved cities, I returned to work full time and Captain Happy (hubby) became a stay at home daddy!

From a mummy point of view I had mixed feelings. Of which I will save and share another time.

From a wife point view, I need to share my respect (note I didn’t say insight). Plus I think I owe a few of you an explanation about the nickname “Captain Happy”. So here goes. Obviously being my husband I could write for pages but I will try not to.

Captain Happy, my perpetually smiling, upbeat, happy go lucky, personal ray of sunshine. I’ve known him for about 16 years and nothing has changed he is just a happy person. Annoyingly so at times. He just wants to make everyone smile, at the very least. This can make discussions of the serious kind very difficult at times but then it can also provide much needed comic relief at others. There is always, always a bright side that he finds and points out. How can she possibly find this annoying I hear you ask? Well simply put, sometimes a girl just wants to have a good sulk or indulge in a mood or precious moment. Nope not in this little fish bowl. Suck it up and keep going until you find something to smile about.

I’m not usually someone that wants to mope about. I love finding joy in simple things. The way the sun hits frost on a cob web, the smell of summer’s nights the purity of children playing. But he lives by finding a reason to smile or not having a reason at all just smiling because the day ends in a “y”

It’s this happiness that gets us through our allotted challenges. We have our share like anyone else. We are not special, or immune. We are incredibly lucky with many things we have had to face but that is all. There is never a dull moment, life can resemble a circus most of the time and sometimes I could just superglue his lips together when he cracks a joke in the middle of a discussion. However at the end of each day or the haze of an impending crisis I can count on the sunshine that I married.

So that in a nut shell is Captain Happy. I was concise as possible. Plus we must keep check of egos and all. But then I guess that’s what our children can do for us. Or so the captain has discovered in his recent role as a stay at home dad. Stay tuned for that shock to our systems.

Its all in the detail

Posted on by | Leave a comment

24hrs old waiting to cuddle my mummy and daddy

24hrs old waiting to cuddle my mummy and daddy

It was brought to my attention that I may have undersold the dramatics of little Jelly Beans birth. Apparently, according to my husband (therefore its gospel in his mind), people want the details. Really?
Well I can do details, but not gory ones. So whilst my next posting was not going to be in this direction I will go back and give the details. Please bear with me because I was a little hazy.
So I was asking the good doctors if I was a good girl, could I please be discharged, thrown into the car, driven carefully (like mad) to Auckland where I would board a plane, pop over the ditch and check myself into the first available hospital. Not unreasonable I didn’t think. I immediately thought of waddling onto one of those flying kangaroos (as many Aussies do when they are desperate to be home) and strapping myself in. I would be good, I would sit very still, and I would not cause a scene on the flight. On arrival I would call a taxi (no time for airport transfers to our car), our families would be merely four hours away (not a whole ditch away).
Apparently this was almost laughable, even though I was honestly being quite serious. There was however going to be a flight, just not what I had imagined
I have heard during childbirth, the memory can be very selective. Well in my case memory was completely vague. Once the doctors had told me that I was in labour and the Rescue Helicopter was on its way, I was out. You see it all the time in the movies, the person hears the noise but nothing goes in. I remember looking at my husband, tears in my eyes and he was expressionless. He didn’t move. Didn’t jump up and pull me into his arms to make it all go away, didn’t interrupt the incessant speech the doctors were giving us, just sat like a statue. My instinct was to move, jump, run, pace, slam a door, anything. The doctors then all walked out leaving us and our amazing midwife Gwen (whom I was just inspired to stalk a little on Facebook and send a quick email to). At some point another midwife came in whilst Gwen had to step out for a moment. To this day I would like to meet her again and tell her what I thought of her insensitive comments. Obviously she knew what was going on and she thought then it was an appropriate time to enquire from me “How could you be that far dilated and not feel the contractions”. My very polite and still stunned response was “I’m not sure”. What I should have said to the woman was (and please take a sip of coffee as there is a rant coming);

“Well for a start I have been here for two days because I am actually quite sick. Part of the symptoms of that illness is a sore back, so sore in fact that I can barely walk to the bathroom. I don’t have a high pain threshold generally but I certainly do not admit to pain to strangers so I was only have low doses of paracetamol to manage the “rigors on my right flank” (medical term). Your people have had me hooked up to a foetal monitor all morning, well before I took a bathroom break so I was assuming that my little world was all happy and rosy. So perhaps I am super tough and a mere little contraction doesn’t register on my not comfy scale. Or maybe I am so damn sick that contraction pain was nothing compared to the feel of burning hot knife sticking into my back that I’ve had for days now. Or maybe I am one of those women that get all the initial pain in my back. Or maybe, just maybe my little body thought it would save me the physical pain of contractions for hours on end, in preparation for the utter helplessness, anxiety and gut wrenching moments I would endure emotionally in the next 8 weeks. Just saying”

The next people to walk through the doors were orderlies to push the bed or wheelchair (vagueness there). I do recall asking if I could not just walk to where I needed to go. Again I am not trying, nor was I then, to be cavalier. I was in pain, sure, but I had waddled to the bathroom earlier, I saw no reason not to be walking now. I could play damsel in distress if required, but not usually my first trick nor was I really in the mood for it. With wheels providing the means, we were escorted to the delivery suite to be prepped for the flight.

This was where things got a little dicey, as far as my marriage goes. You see we are a unit, we have spent a lot of time apart but we have a pretty strong foundation and when it gets tough we have each. I was going in the big scary helicopter and my best friend was told to get in the car straight away, drive to Waikato Hospital in Hamilton NOW! I was strong. It was best for baby if I was air lifted ASAP. There was no room in the helicopter for husbands; he would meet me at the other end. The helicopter was still in transit so he had a pretty good head start. We kissed goodbye and he walked out. I was due for another set of observations and an examination so I was momentarily distracted. Staring at the midwife, I was envious. Her being at work on another normal day and me being as far from a normal day as was possible. She informed me that she just needed to speak with Doctor a moment. Seconds later she was back. “We cannot risk letting you fly, your 7cms and dilating quickly. If you give birth in the air it could be harmful to baby and you. Does your partner have a mobile on him?”

Oh dear god. How much time had actually passed? I was furious with myself that I was not more “in” the moment and watching the clock. I replied his mobile number automatically. Then felt an awful dread. His phone wasn’t working here, nor was mine. I was still waiting for international roaming to activate it was another 5 hours before it would kick in. I was just about to ask them to call the police and stop him on the road. Yes I was serious. I was not delivering our baby without him. Then I remembered my blessed work mobile phone. I took it with us in case the office needed me. No I am not so important that the place cannot run without my presence but there was something happening that caused me to pack it for some reason. Fate perhaps?

So I rattled off that number (probably with a hint of professional tone just from habit). Then I thought, I cannot remember what numbers you have to put in front of Australian mobile numbers when dialling from another country. I was just about to start to panic when I had my first contraction. Well not my actual first one but the first one I actually noticed. It was bearable.

From here to the birth my memory is so blurry. It breaks my heart sometimes and other times I think, who the hell cares if it wasn’t up to my expectations.

My husband walked back through the door and relief swept over me. I can do anything now. He started trying to tell me his activities when he left the hospital. I was interested only in so much as hearing his voice and holding his hand meant that I was not alone. I started to want to push. Again I was not sure how much time had lapsed. I was allowed to start pushing but I still had no real idea how to best do it. I just went with natural instinct and very diligent following of any instructions I was hearing. Except for my husband telling me to breathe. Like that was going to help at all, I didn’t need to breath I needed to get this baby out.

Midwife Gwen left midway through contractions to summon the doctor. He barely even looked at me before he explained that the baby needed to be out now. I was of the same opinion. He then explained that there was a small problem and that I needed some help getting baby out. He explained he needed to “make a small cut”. Could this day get any worse? Surely I was not that useless. Surely I can give birth without having my “bits” altered. I didn’t argue though. I was on their turf and with a baby on its early way I was willing to do anything, so the “small cut” was made. It was not the nicest sensation but I did not have time to dwell on it. To quote my previous blog “It’s all in the detail”

“Our daughter was born. We were parents. Now that I had done that job it was time for a shower. I was in shock. I was given a task, deliver the baby. Well I had done what was asked. It was not the moment that is aspired to my most women. I had dry eyes, I still had doctors working at the other end of my body (like they had not seen enough over the last five hours), and the baby was wrapped and whisked away. Where was that moment that everyone promises, where was the rush of love, that natural incredibly addictive “high” that everyone talks of?
It had been lost, lost in the shock that our precious little baby was here too early. What was too early? Does this early arrival mean endless days in hospitals? Does it mean she was not coming home? Was she fully developed? Was she even alive? We had just become parents of a 30+4week premmie baby and we had absolutely no idea what was in store for us.”

That was three years ago today. I still have very mixed feelings about this day. I am so happy and excited that it is our little girl’s birthday but I am also a little reserved about the events we experienced to get here.
She is strong willed, determined, self-assured, independent, head strong and so very clever. The world sure was ready for her arrival, her parents certainly were not prepared but our little Kiwi Baby was ready to take on the world… Happy Birthday Princess

The best laid plans…

Posted on by | Leave a comment

I need plans!  I have finally come to accept that when things do not go to plan it is not the end of the world but I still like to have them for most things.

The romantic in me had my birth plan all sorted. By birth plan I mean I planned the moment that I announced to my husband that our anticipated baby Jelly Bean was coming. It went a little something like this;

I would be looking radiant, stunning and the picture of pregnancy perfection. I would have cleared up after a lovely dinner and would be sipping a cup of tea when I calmly turn to him and say “Sweetheart, our baby is coming”. To this he would kiss me, pick up my suitcase and we would drive to the hospital. Have the baby and announce our joy to the world. Birth Plan CHECK! Ok so I know that most people are more concerned about planning the birth itself but I figured I would be fine, there were medical staff and our private Obstetrician to help me with that particular bit.

So I was organised. Pre Natal classes were booked to begin a few weeks on our return from New Zealand.  I would do some more reading about the finer “details” of going into labour after our much needed holiday. I was not taking with me a single book. I usually do not leave the house without a book because “You just never know when you might get some reading time”.  I was not going to get reading time, I was going to be totally focussed on my husband and our trip. I now have reverted to my previous belief system and carry a book everywhere again (even with two children and no time to drink a glass of water).

On the first full day of our trip I was not being a picture of glowing pregnancy. My back ached so much I needed help getting out of the car. I was freezing cold, but I was in New Zealand and I do hate the cold so that particular complaint did not count. I should have known I was a little ill. I ordered pumpkin soup for dinner at this gorgeous little cafe the evening before. For a lover of food, pumpkin soup just isn’t normally an acceptable dinner.

Our first full day in NZ was nice, apart from my need to be helped out of the car because my back was still sore, I could barely breathe let alone move. Yes ok that should have given it away right there but I was jumping around like a crazy person with my ballet students four days prior so I was blaming that. Captain Happy went for a run later that afternoon whilst I curled up in the hotel room, with the heating on high. NZ was honestly freezing. On his return Captain Happy instantly complained that the room was ridiculously hot. I was indignant! I informed him that I was cold and that was that. Mind you there may or may not have been a pregnant lady sneaking off to the shower about five minutes after that discussion.  Said pregnant lady might have also been drinking a glass of water in the shower, using two hand because she was shaking with cold so much.

Ok, so I am not the most intelligent person when it comes to signs that things with my body are not good. Thankfully my husband knows how to pull the heart strings. Convincing me that even though I am “just getting a cold” we should just check on the baby considering the flight and all. Off to outpatients we went. A couple of tests later and we have a kidney infection. I was stoked, I would get some anti-biotics (not so great but there are worse things) and I would feel better in the morning and we could enjoy our holiday. Wrong! I was being admitted. I had never been in hospital in my life and now I am in a different country being imprisoned to a hospital bed. Not happy but honestly was feeling too sick to argue too much. My temperatures were causing concern.

How can this be, I never get sick. A cold her and there, nasty headache and that was it. I would endure the injustice and be on my way tomorrow. Tomorrow turned into the next day but I had ket my temp down over night (like I actually get a choice) and I wanted out. With the speech prepared in my head I patiently waited for the doctors to do their rounds.  My partner in crime (driver of the getaway car) was nowhere to be found either. I came up with the perfect idea of ensuring they all arrived. I would waddle my way to the bathroom. Everything happens when you “quickly” go to the bathroom. Indeed it did.

Discoveries were made on my trip to the bathroom. I was in labour. I did not realise this straight away. I even had a midwife ask how on earth could I be 4-6cm and not have any idea. Well my dear midwife, unlike you I have not done this before, nor do I deliver babies every day at work. I talk fuel and regulations not babies and breathing. Ever the in control freak I did ask the doctor if I was really quiet could I possibly get in the car, drive straight to Auckland, get on a plane and at least get to Sydney. Please remember I was in shock and was yet to do my all-important labour research.

Apparently the only flying I was doing was in a helicopter to a hospital that could deal with the baby.

That was what the medical staff had planned. Little Jelly bean however was not willing to share the helicopter with mummy and was coming. Four hours later this tiny little rabbit type creature was quickly shown to me before being whisked out of the room.

Our daughter was born. We were parents. Now that I had done that job it was time for a shower. I was in shock. I was given a task, deliver the baby. Well I had done what was asked. It was not the moment that is aspired to my most women. I had dry eyes, I still had doctors working at the other end of my body (like they had no seen enough over the last five hours), the baby was wrapped and whisked away. Where was that moment that everyone promises, where was the rush of love, that natural incredibly addictive “high” that everyone talks of.

It had been lost, lost in the shock that our precious little baby was here too early. What was too early? Does this early arrival mean endless days in hospitals? Does it mean she was not coming home? Was she fully developed? Was she even alive? We had just become parents of a 30+4week premmie baby and we had absolutely no idea what was in store for us.

The First step and the second line…

Posted on by | 1 Comment

Starting anything can feel like an explosion of emotion. Scary, exciting, relieving, daunting, empowering or soul crushing. These feelings are not mutually exclusive either. We have the capacity to feel numerous emotions all at once. It is, however, those feelings that leave little stamps on the milestones and moments of our lives. Sometimes you get a smiley face stamp, sometimes “You’re a Star” and others there is that “Keep Trying” stamp.

When my Husband and I began trying for a baby it was going to be simple. Stop using contraceptive and BAM we would be pregnant right? Well that is why I diligently took the pill every day for  over 10 years. We were not desperate for children, when it happened it happened. Well that theory was good for the first five months of trying. Thankfully my thirst for knowledge (and mild panic that somehow I must be doing something wrong) led me to some research and information. Armed with this knowledge and some “tools” we got that ever anticipated “second line”. Relief and excitement were plastered all over our faces. We were going to be parents. As it turns out, when it came to conception we were one of the lucky couples. Oh how we learn the hard facts of life on this EPIC journey of parenthood. The thing was we had absolutely no idea just how hard those facts were and we were even more vague on the harsh reality that was learning those lessons.

Like a lot of couples (sans children) we thought we had all the answers. We knew how we would raise our little cherubs. We knew exactly that they would undoubtedly do exactly as they were told when they were told. We knew that they would have impeccable manners; they would be a little bit clever and maybe reach a milestone or two a little early. We pretty much knew what we were signing up for.   It turns out the fairyland contract we were planning to sign did not exist. In fact instead of an orderly business contract where parties are all versed in expectations and limitation, we had just purchased two non-refundable tickets to the scariest, most exhilarating and completely amazing “hold onto your pants” circus event there is. Our darling little Jelly Bean had a script she had written all on her own and we were simply the purring kittens waiting to be petted.

I was planning to do everything during my pregnancy and I did. I was perfectly healthy. I was working and teaching ballet part time. People would ask how I did it all. My mental response “Are you kidding? It is not that hard. You find energy and time for that which you want to do”.  What were so many people complaining about? Pregnancy was easy. A couple of days of threatened morning sickness and I was blitzing pregnancy. So smug was I that we booked a two week trip to New Zealand. We had planned a big trip, to China, Canada, America and New Zealand on the way home. I decided that was a little luxurious considering Jelly Bean was on his/her way soon. So with 10 weeks to go I booked in a glacial walk and some other lovely side trips and we jumped on the plane.

 Pregnancy was super fun! A Babymoon! What a terrific excuse for a trip, not that we ever needed one but hey if there was a legitimate one I was using it. New Zealand bound, completely oblivious to the discoveries I was about to make about myself and my Husband (Captain Happy we will call him).

 

My Own Mummy.