Emperor Penguin

It's OHs first Father's Day - but not really

He has acted like a father of three since we moved in with him but today was a little bit different, he has Indigo now too.

When we were just "seeing" each other we watched one of the Planet Earth or Life documentaries, I can't remember which series and they are similar anyway, but it was the episode with the Emperor Penguins and their battle to nurture their egg until a baby chick hatches, in the worst conditions imaginable!  I watched with OH, blinking back the tears as the male penguin braves the 120mph icy winds for the 64 day incubation period, then gives the chick back to the female when she returns. The male Emperor Penguin is unarguably the greatest father in the animal kingdom.

We were talking about this during a recent shopping trip, the kids and I and within minutes came across a plastic Emperor Penguin in a toy shop. It seemed fated that it should be OH's Father's Day present.

What makes me most grateful is his lack of experience, no family children around, he went from a single man living alone to a father of three within months. Even though we had dated for longer, he was introduced to the children 2 months before we all moved in together.

There was no plan of action or talking before hand about how things may turn out, we all just went for it with gusto. It was naturally easy for him it seems. I have him to solely thank for being a mum of four too. Not because of the obvious reason of conception, but the whole idea of having another child used to make me shudder. I had my children, end of discussion. My biological clock had well and truly died. Yet he mentioned a baby and I had a clear vision of us with a little girl. It happened and I'm eternally indebted to him. As predicted, again, he is a natural. When I watch him with her I can tell how much he loves her and how she adores him right back. They are little peas in a pod and I can't wait to sit back and observe as she starts to crawl, walk and talk, knowing he will be right there, idolising her and loving her to bits.

Morning Snugness

After going on the school run, I crept back to bed this morning.

I had stupid insecure dreams last night that really upset me. Stupid dreams that OH had cheated and was leaving us all. Followed by a couple of various nightmares, feeling under the weather and a restless baby, I was shattered and worn this morning.

OH was half asleep and baby was snuggled into his chest. I lay on a tiny slither of bed behind him, briefly kissing  and stroking his back before falling back to sleep, holding onto him for warmth, for comfort and for safety(could have rolled out of bed at any given moment.) When baby started to grizzle, I crept the other side to feed her. OH snuggled so tightly behind me that at times, I couldn't move or breathe. It was perfect and we all fell back to sleep.

It's been ages since we cuddled in bed and this was exceptional, completely needed, erasing my ugly sleeping thoughts instantly. I love his squeezy hugs.

Baby's First Jabs

Baby had her first jabs today and surprising I was calm about the whole thing. At moment of impact, it's not the most pleasant experience to be holding down your child as it wriggles with pain and fear, but it your level of trauma eases with the amount of children you have. With my eldest, I think I had nervous stomach pains for days previous then spent 3 or 4 days racked with guilt after.

 So calmly, I entered the nurses room, to strangely be met with a health visitor? I think she is some special, multi-skilled, superhero of a health visitor who obviously has more capabilities than the mediocre normal ones. She greeted me without making eye contact and told me to sit in the plastic chair that stood lonely in the centre of the room. Standing directly over me she spoke of what was to happen in the following few minutes. She towered down, still avoiding eye contact and explained how Baby would receive two injections. The first to given in the right thigh, then I was to turn her around WITHOUT comforting her so her second thigh was exposed ready for the sequel jab. She told me, in a matter of fact tone, that it's pointless comforting the baby when she is going to feel the pain again.

My blood pressure started to rise.

Why this women felt she could decide whether or not my child could be hugged or reasurred at a time of distress, I have no idea? I can empathise it must be challenging trying to administer an injection if a mother is flapping about fussing over her child and that parent's (over) reactions can be influential but I had been a picture of serenity so far.

The trout (as I have later come to reference her) then checked on baby's current health. All is fine I confirmed, apart from a restless night due to to teething accompanied by a slight temp..."She is too early for teething!" she interrupted. I repeated with nods of confirmation that she was in fact teething and I could now see and feel a tooth coming thr..."She is too early for teething!" I looked up at her, towering above me as I was again interrupted, her eyes closed as she spoke. I possibly snarled.

The blood pressure crept up

Brave baby girl whimpered a little with the first jab and not to slow down the process, I spoke to her reassuringly as I turned her around, the second injection quickly following. She instructed me to stand and comfort her. Not particularly paying to much attention to the trout,I snuggled Baby into my chest and pulled her blanket around, slowly rocking but by all means, not going overboard. She again instructed me to stand and comfort my child. Could she not see that I was cuddling her closely, wrapping her safely within her fleecy shawl? For the third time she demanded I stand but this time explained her command. "If you stand, she knows it is all over." I think I possibly glared at her.

She smirked to ridicule my query, of how long to wait outside within the Doctors surgery, just in case of a reaction to the vaccine, which had always been the advice given when the big kids had their jabs.

I was told to leave and I didn't need telling twice. Practically sprinting, carrying my half stripped baby in my arms, struggling with my changing bag and a bundle of leaflets, wedged into baby's health "red book" record, I made it safely to the car park. Only to be stopped by the Trout shouting me. She had given me the incorrect record book. Breaching another baby's data protection and right to confidential medical information.

What another stunning experience at my increasingly crap new Doctor's surgery!

Virtual Mother and Baby Group

After M was born, I became a toddler group junkie, spending my weekdays popping from one church hall to another, engaging in baby talk whilst drinking endless cups of weak, warm tea.

Luckily a group within the group formed and we bonded for life?!? Moving from the toddler groups to afternoon coffee in our homes, to pre-school and beyond, leaving the children behind and socialising together as "ladies that lunch" or drunken woman allowed out on a rare occasion to the pub.

The plan, 8 weeks ago, when the baby arrived was to yet again, infiltrate the local baby clubs and bag myself some new pals as I currently have zero in my new town.
However, things are slightly different now due to a certain social networking site. And I don't mean that certain social networking site always mentioned on The Jeremy Kyle Show, I mean the one championed by a national treasure (actor, writer, journalist, comedian, television presenter and film director.)  A moody, sulky, teenage brat of a pop singer and a silver-foxed daytime TV presenter. The site with lots of @@@@.

I have managed to acquaint myself with a variety of mums and mums-to-be on this social networking site and spent the months leading up to baby's birth, forming online relationships with them. I've had more interest and celebration from these internet strangers than from my real-world aka Facebook friends.

I now have experienced mums on tap, to quiz on random parenting issues and share my frustrations. First timers, than I can pass on my knowledge to, share birthing stories with and smile as they gush and publicly brag with overwhelming pride, at each new stage their baby enters. Then the newbies with bumps, who are teetering on the edge of a new parenting world and counting the days with excitement and fear, until their bundle arrives.

The world of mummy-blogging goes hand in hand with the @@@@ social networking site and gives a more in depth look into parenting. The darker side. The bits containing the feelings that you don't necessarily share with real friends or family or acquaintances at a toddler group. The bits that scare you or make you sad. That make you feel like a failure or abnormal. The bits that you think no other person will understand.
These posts are more valuable than any parenting handbook, as you have the author within your virtual grasp to express your observations or to probe further. Something that was written by another on the opposite side of the country, who lives in a completely different world to you, not only feels today, exactly as you do, but will happily engage in a conversation about it. Topics ranging from the practical, such as help with breastfeeding to the emotional side, dealing with difficulties that relationships can struggle with, post baby.
Of course, It's not just the negative aspects of being a mother either, but the fun stuff, the best stuff, the stuff that becomes the author's "family memories". When you read these posts, you realise how privileged you are.

The natural progression is your own blog, where you get to rant about every fear or sadness, open the floor on your parenting techniques and to tell other mums of your journey so far.
The best bit about this world is that nobody judges. It's not about your ability to write or your story telling skills, it's just about an understanding. Of being part of that mummy world.

Maybe Mother and Baby groups will become obsolete.

Mine....

Even though I'm a bit cross with him and think he should feel bloody lucky that he has escaped a massive row...I still feel loved up tonight.

He isn't here.

He is drinking with friends, which is a rarity for him.

I keep looking at Indie tonight in awe, amazed that she is here. Amazed that she was his idea. An off the cuff comment he made mid row, about maybe having a baby. I hadn't planned on any more and wasn't sure.

I have him to thank greatly for her and it makes me love him oh so much.

Part-Timer? Slacker? Bad Mother?

People have been asking me how long I will breastfeed for and I just respond with a shrug

I have to admit, I shuddered, lots, when watching an article on This Morning last week about someone breastfeeding their 5 year old.

I've never had a set plan for each baby and it has always varied in time-scale (never up to aged five.)


I'm not even a purist, I think the breast-feeders seem to snub me a little because I'm a mixer, a combination feeder and I don't even use breast milk in the bottles!

I admire those that can express milk, but it's just not me. I've tried using various hand pumps, electric pumps and also by hand. I either manage to get an ounce of milk or give up with frustration. The electric pump just making me feel like a dairy cow...a failed dairy cow!

Discussing weaning at a mum and baby group, I was shocked at how many said they express milk to mix with baby's rusk or porridge. I've never done that. I had visions of standing in the kitchen in my PJs, holding a bowl of powdered breakfast for my infant, then just wopping out tit and squeezing some milk into the bowl, before stirring.

I'm a lazy breast-feeder too, I mostly do it lying down, rather than holding baby at a particular angle and getting arm ache. If there isn't anywhere comfy to do it, I huff a little.  I also dislike doing it in the heat or when I'm in one of those claustrophobic moods were I don't want anyone near me, let alone attached to me.


It's strange, sometimes it feels such a privilege and I wonder if my OH is jealous that I have this specific ability to sustain and soothe and bond with our daughter. Other times it feels like a chore and I behave like a stroppy teenager or feel restrained or that I'm nothing more than food.


I don't mind feeding in public and would rather save my formula feeds for at home when OH can feed her and I can run free for a bit. Strangely I felt more comfortable feeding Indigo in a supermarket car-park last week, in view of groups of teenagers and the "trolley men" than I did in the mum and baby group.

I know everyone is different. I'm happy plodding along with breastfeeding most of the time and feeding formula, some of the time...I just don't know how long for?

Every Moment Seems To Be A Parenting Fail

Leaving Indie to sleep on a corduroy cushion....

 

It's All A Bit Ting Tings

They call me girl...They call me Stacey...They call me her...They call me Jane

Well, not quite, but we do call her, Indie, Bindi (always said in an Australian accent), Bindi the Jungle Girl, Binda Binda Tatva, Baba, Windy, Windy Indie, Hindi, Hindigo, Indi-glowstick or Little Girl.

Or sometimes, just "the baby" (Finn)

However she is officially Indigo!

No middle name though as I felt weak for some reason tagging in one of my favourite unused names. I've never actually understood the point of middle names unless it's a tribute to something or a family name. It's always seemed like indecisiveness or being greedy?

Can't decide between two names for your baby? Sod it, let's have them both!

I realise that I have probably offended many...

My name isn't particularly unusual, but then, it's not overly common. I don't think I have ever been in the same room as someone with my name. It can be a boy's name too but is mostly a surname. Any guesses yet?

I've never particularly liked it and as a child, HATED it (I've no idea why though) so adopted a different "play" name when I was with my friends...Beverly (shrugs.)

It grew on me a little when I found out that I was named after a "Charlie's Angel" that my Dad fancied. I suppose it gave the choice some kind of vague meaning, even if slightly pervy. But then was put off when I found a news article clipping on my desk at work, rating my name as slutty.

Yes, I topped the chart. Apparently, if you come across a Kelly, you are guaranteed a shag.

Tiredness

Why do I feel guilty for feeling tired and needing to snooze?

I have day-time napped through out my pregnancy due to hyperemesis gravidarum and felt slightly mean that I was curled up all snuggly whilst OH was at work.

Knowing how much he hates working on a Sunday, I am reluctant to go sleep.

I have done some housework and looked after 4 children (okay, well three are pretty self sufficient,) I have been bleeding for nearly 4 weeks after giving birth, I am breastfeeding another human being and also had a late night... surely that justifies forty winks?

Spaniel Fury

Sister In Law and her husband have just turned up unannounced to see the baby. She lives 90 minutes away and is pregnant herself so it's been her first chance to come back home.

It's always the way isn't it, when you are topless because you are feeding your baby and happen to walk past the window and see your SIL in the front garden? You have seconds to hide your modesty and try to tidy the living room.

She brought her Spaniel puppy with her. It's the equivalent of Angelica from The Rugrats. It's a spoiled little brat. In the hour it was here, it has recovered my laminate floor with a coating of black hair, left muddy footprints on the moses basket, bouncer chair, sofa and window ledge. It's upset the cats, charged around the house (including upstairs where I have not had chance to assess the damage) frightened the kids, stolen breast pads, stolen bread from the kitchen work top and brought in used sanitary towels from the bathroom bin. I was so relieved to intercept that and pick the towel from it's mouth before it brought it's find, proudly into the living room for SIL to see.

The icing on the cake was after her licking the baby's ear and hand, it jumped sideways into a mop that had been used to clear up it's spilled drinking water. The mop handle came smashing down into the baby's face. She now has a bruise on her forehead.

I really wanted to kick that dog sharpishly across the room.

Bed-Sharing

It's so naughty and highly advised against and I remind you of my previous blog stating that I don't know best and not to follow my advice.

I currently have a leaflet next to my laptop highlighting the dangers I place my babies in, but there is something that stops me complying.

I love her sleeping in my bed. She sleeps between myself and OH and she wriggles between us and snuggles up in the middle of the night.

I always thought of it as a reward for breastfeeding. The ease of not having to move when she wants feeding in the early hours and we both stay cosy.

I understand the risks, that I could smother her in my sleep, she could overheat or she could manoeuvre out of the bed. But there is something natural and animalistic about it.

Dude (the cat) slept with her kittens. She drifted off to sleep as they fed until their bellies were full and nodded off themselves.

I think of my bed as my nest, somewhere safe and sacred. I love feeding my young in bed with my partner lying next to us.

http://www.babyfriendly.org.uk/pdfs/sharingbedleaflet.pdf

Novice

Even though I have just given birth for the fourth time, please don't assume I know what I am doing.

It could be the age gap between baby 3 and baby 4 or my ever decreasing brain cells allowing me to forget, but I feel like a first time mum again.

I almost grabbed the Health Visitor as she was about to leave, to plead with her for more information, more leaflets and more support because I didn't feel she gave me her all, her very best, during my first home visit.

She was fairly dismissive with my questions and regularly made reference to the other three monkeys that were building a den* in the garden.

* It was the most fabulous den made with sheer brilliance and I was so proud of them.

I pointed out that everything changes and guidance given ten years ago from my previous lovely helpful Health Visitor was now either dis-proven, extinct or further developed.

Even the Midwives seemed to all be reading off different hymn sheets.
Midwife 1 advises me to breastfeed from both sides.
Midwife 2 (weighs baby regularly due to weight loss) advises to just feed off one side for up to forty minutes, as the best fatty milk it right at the end.
Midwife 3 says in shock..."Sandra really told you that? Because we all attended a session which said that was absolute rubbish and you can feed off both sides. The milk is all the same."

Smashing.

I have a confidence about me, that I don't think I had for awhile with baby 1. More so, the knowledge that I have no reason to panic about everything and that although she is super tiny, she won't break when I try to bend her arms into the babygrow or her little body doesn't need to be wrapped in layers and layers of warm clothes before swaddling her in twenty blankets. I'm also more relaxed with allowing other children to manhandle my bundle of joy, knowing again, they won't necessarily drop and smash her.
I also think I have a slight better understanding than a first time mum of the different types of baby cries. I know there are some that don't need split second attention.
I still don't want others to think that I am 100% in knowing what I am doing is right or that any guidance or advice will be rubbished. It's all welcome.

She is OH's first baby and he is doing remarkably well. Completely relaxed, he seems to know exactly what he is doing, like he has secretly been reading every parenting handbook on the side. He definitely doesn't act like a first time parent. Maybe he has confidence knowing there is a (clueless) fourth-timer in the household?

I like that I don't feel arrogant, that I don't feel that I have "been there, done that!" I don't think that attitude would be fair to OH.

I have been reading booklets this morning on topics that I should really know tonnes about and am nervous about attending a breastfeeding group next week. Fancied somewhere that I could get a cup of tea amongst friendly mums and know that I could get my knockers out to feed the baby in safety. But the Midwife told me that the woman who runs the group will be so pleased when I go, a "breastfeeding pro," she referred to me as. That Barbara will be making me attend all the new parent/parent to be sessions to teach them all the tricks.

Arghhhhh, was she not listening to my thirty questions on breastfeeding baby 4 because I wasn't sure I was doing it right?

So please, anyone reading this, don't take my advice, don't assume I know it all. By all means, I am happy to tell others how I manage things IF THEY ASK! But I am definitely not one of those mums, that force their ways onto a newbie.

The Indigo Process

Finally I have a spare 20 minutes to share the gruesome details of becoming a mummy for the fourth time.

This is the first draft as it takes a few weeks for me for little details to come back.

So the last few weeks dragged! Nervously I over interpreted every potential sign of labour. Never before have I had the necessary bodily skills to send myself into contractions and this time, had tried everything to ensure that for once, I was going to do it naturally. I had earned it surely? For once, I would know how it felt to rush excitedly/nervously to hospital.

So from 35 weeks onwards, every twinge I thought was the real thing. Convinced one night that my waters had broken I ended up at labour ward being monitored to find foolishly that they probably hadn't. Every pain was timed using an IPhone application. I refused to pack my hospital bag convinced that if I was unprepared, ironically, I would need it in a hurry. I popped Raspberry Leaf capsules like they were sweets, ate curries, had regular orgasms, took walks and bounced faithfully on my newly purchased exercise ball.

I had a date at 39 weeks for a stretch and sweep, controversially given to me by the consultant, much to the disgust of the midwife who disagreed with the procedure before term date.

It was our d-day. I firmly believed that on that day I would attend the hospital and the registrar would tell me that I was 4cm dilated and that they would just give me a nudge. I would go home in slow labour ready for a trip back to labour ward in the early hours.

It was hard to control the tears as the consultant told me in the most casual of fashion that I wasn't even the teeny tiniest bit ready to go into labour and that he would be leaving me until 41 weeks for induction. Also just to kick me whilst I was down, that the baby would be a whopper, most likely the same/bigger than my last 10lb 8oz porker.

The only ray of sunshine was the doctor saying I could ask the midwife to check me in a few days for another attempt at a sweep.

I sulked for a few days. The only thing I could think of was my cervix. It became my only topic of conversation.

I started having a show the day of the hospital appointment. It could have been due to the internal examination, or the sex the day before, but I started loosing goo.

Of course it was captured on a tissue and brought into the room for my OH to investigate and interpret with me. Over the next few days, the goo changed colour and amount and for a spilt second, I was so sure that something was happening. Then I googled...

Every time I searched a pregnancy/labour based topic, I saw something I didn't like. Such as a million articles on how you could have a "show" six weeks before the event.

Pah!

Even the regular contractions/really strong Braxton Hicks every evening seemed to vanish just as I thought things were happening.

Hopes were built once again for 40 weeks when I had managed to persuade a midwife to come to my home and sweep me, even though she protested. The experience wasn't a pleasant one. She was more than miffed at being in my home on a Sunday with her fingers prodding my cervix at the request of a consultant. She reminded me again on how I shouldn't be having the procedure done yet, then broke my heart by confirming that no progress had been made and there was no way I would be going into labour within the next week at least.

My mood was black and I hid in my bedroom for the rest of the day, followed by most of the next day too!

I was no longer going to listen to my body. It was fraudulent. It was teasing me.

I didn't get too excited when my goo was bloodstreaked that day ( but still took a sample to show OH) and I ignored the evening dose of contractions. I finally accepted that I would have to wait to be chemically induced in a weeks time and would plan to keep myself constantly distracted.

We went to bed and decided to play Bubble Bobble on the XBox in bed. That stupid dinosaur platform game I used to adore when I was younger. It kept me busy and it was nice doing something with my OH.
I ignored the Braxton Hicks and the feeling of the baby pushing down. Even though I thought I could feel my pelvis separating, I dismissed it as more teasing.

I fell asleep around 1 am

I awoke at 4:30am. I was uncomfortable. My hips hurt and my pelvis felt broken. I had dreamt that I was giving birth to 5 kittens and they were all fighting against my pubic bones to escape (the kitten dream wasn't so obscure as my cat had kittens a few weeks before and our world was turned into chaos by her 5 babies.)

I went to the toilet and felt I needed to poo. Constipation pain followed by pains in my lower back and under my bump. The same pains as I had every night.

I wasn't sure. I couldn't decide if it was time...Or maybe I was just constipated?

I went back to bed and tried to get comfortable, the pain in my groin was getting stronger. Well maybe not stronger, but it certainly wasn't going any where.

4:50pm The OH was woken up. As he blinked at me, trying to come around, I told him I was hurting and possibly in labour, but then again, I wasn't sure. I left out the consitpation theory.

Another 20 minutes of the same and I decided it was time for a bath. I was definately sure they were getting stronger but the cause was still unknown. Warm water would surely make me go to the loo? Or it it was time for baby, then I needed to be clean and bathed anyway.

I was moaning and groaning aloud now as I lay in the bath on my side. OH was in the room too, chain-smoking out of the bathroom window, half-asleep maybe, but very quiet. We couldn't decide what to do next.

It was impossible to hoist myself out of the bath, but OH managed to partially drag me. It was hurting to do anything other than freeze up in silence during a contraction.

I phoned the labour ward and told them that I thought, that maybe, I may possibly be in labour? But I wasn't sure. The woman seemed unamused by my nervousness and advised me to come in anyway. But we had three little problems...

What to do about the other three sleeping kids.

MIL was called to come around and babysit until my father could make it from my home town as OH loaded up with bags. The pains were really getting strong now. I was mildly distracted by chatting to MIL but I couldn't wait much longer. We needed to make the 20 minute journey to the hospital.

Every bump in the road hurt! I was hanging from that rail thing, gripping it really tightly, closing my eyes, huffing and puffing and tensing my body as he drove.

Another problem, no change for the carpark at the hospital. As ridiculous as it seems, we had to go to two petrol stations for cash back and change.

I was counting now... I must have looked autistic, like a Dustin Hoffman/Rainman, counting forwards and backwards to take my mind off the pain. I think I was doing in my head for some time, to hide it from OH, for fear he would think I was crazy. But the pain got too much for me to care. Randomly starting at the number 19 each time, I would count down to zero, then back up again until the pain passed.

The lift was broken at the hospital and the labour ward was wisely on the second floor. So I braved the stairs. Huffing and counting with each step.

We finally made it around 7:30am and buzzed at the ward door. A midwife spoke to OH as I sloped agains the wall counting.
We were lead into a small room and waited until THE midwife arrived (the lovely lady that delivered Indie.) She asked questions that I found difficult to answer so OH became my spokesperson. I couldn't sit in the chair and was kneeling on it instead, slightly twisted to face the wall behind, clinging on to the chair back to stop myself falling, counting.

I shuffled oh so slowly in my socks to the toilet to try and get a water sample for the midwife but it gave me a chance to try and poo again. The pain and pressure on my bowels was intense. It was a no-go situation and I finally accepted that it was the baby and not constipation.

The monitor was switched on and I was hooked up. I hoped to see the graph making massive mountains for each contraction but they didn't. I started to panic that it was super early and that even though the pain was huge, I wasn't really in established labour. The midwife added to this by saying she would examine me and if my waters hadn't gone, I could possibly go home.

MORTIFIED! The pain was making me breathless, I couldn't focus on anything. All I could do when I felt the stabbing wave was close my eyes, try not to tense my body and start to count.

I had always believed I had a fairly high threshold for pain but in my old age, I must be really feeble and weak. I was desperate to ask for pain-relief but in the next few minutes, I could be sent home instead.

She waited until my contraction passed, then looked at my cervix. Good news, she could see pools of water, implying that my waters had broken. I exhaled. HA! I wouldn't be going home now. Then she changed her mind.

It wasn't pools of water, but infact my waterbag bulging?? I was nine centimetres dilated and my water sac was BULGING!

I was so relieved I wasn't going to be sent home, I felt so brave that I had made it to 9 cm, I was so proud that my body was working without intervention.

All I could say was, Am I okay to have gas and air now?

The three of us moved to a labouring room and she fitted a mouthpiece to the gas and air. Bliss.
It all starts flooding back, the level of pain, the taste of the gas and air, the waves of sickness until you get used to it, the instant drunkeness, the noise of the mouthpiece sounding like Darth Vader.

It was taking the edge off and I was relaxing a little.

Midwife quickly started jotting down a birthplan. I said I would like some Pethidine as I had that with the other three. Diamorphine is all they give now? They changed things a few years ago and decided pethidine wasn't strong enough and that women just prefer Diamorphine.

Not I! I didn't want to feel sky high, I didn't want to be too off my face to remember things. Pethidine was just enough. Blah, I decided to stick to gas and air.

A cannula was put in my wrist and it hurt, LOTS. More so than my contractions. Apparantly it is procedure for previous c-sections or blood pressure people. I can't really remember what she said but I was to have one.

Gripping my OH's hand, running from 19-0 out loud, then 0 to 30, that was how long the contractions were now.

I'm a little hazy with the order of things now and will have to check with my OH. Blame the gas and air.

I was examined again. I felt a teeny pop and my water gushed everywhere. As I looked up, I could see the look of horror on Midwifes face. She said it was a lot of water and it had flooded the place. I didn't even notice that I was soaking wet. She told me to lift up whilst she removed some of the sheets beneath me, but the pains were too much for me to get my backside off the bed.

The gas and air was wearing off now, It was definitely not enough for me to get through labour. I wanted the Diamorphine. Midwife left the room to get some.

I got the urge to push. I shouted for OH to press the buzzer and she seemed to appear instantly.
She had the needle in her hand with the precious pain relief in. I moved the G&A mouthpiece for a split second, just enough to tell her that I needed to push.
She rushed past the bottom of my bed, looking between my legs and scrambling for rubber gloves. Telling me not to push yet!

Luckily I could control it. I had three urges when I could have pushed but didn't. It's the strangest of sensations and impossible to describe to another person. Fear was hitting me again now. The G&A was not taking the edge off any more and Midwife was telling me I could push when I was ready.

Well I wasn't ready! I knew the pain that was about to come and I wasn't close to being prepared! I told her so. I told her I needed the Diamorphine and she said no, it was too late. The next urge to push came and I couldn't fight it this time. My body convulsed and my moans turned into the strangest noise.

It's a very out of body experience. I can hear my breathing, emphasised by the mouthpiece. I am aware that I am practically growling like an animal with each contraction but could care less of what anyone else present thinks.

The 4th urge now and I pushed again. This time I got the whiteness.

The whiteness I have never mentioned to another person before. It probably won't make too much sense either. It's when the pain gets too much for you to physically cope with any more. It's happened with each baby at the point of the head being born. It for me, is the point where the pain is that intense, that it is no longer painful. I first haze over and my vision blurs. I think I can only see white, or maybe I am just gazing at the hosiptal ceiling at this point in a drunken world of my own. The pain burns then eases and usually I am getting a shout from a midwife to stop pushing as a baby's head has arrived.

Well, this was second or third push and I had the whiteness. I was still coherent enough to realise that this was far quicker than normal. That I would normally be pushing for about 20/30 minutes before the whiteness.

I listened to the midwife carefully. She was telling me to make small tiny pushes then to pause for a few seconds, then to repeat it again. My teeth were clamped around the mouthpiece and I was gripping OHs hand so tightly. I vaguely remember telling my OH to look as his daughter's head was being born and I'm sure the midwife said she was born with her eyes open.

As the white haze faded I was told that one more push was all that was needed for the rest of her to be born. I tried to protest and say I needed to get my breath back first. The Midwife said, no, come on, one more push...My body agreed with her and I convulsed uncontrollably again and out she slipped.

It's the loveliest feeling. After the pain of the baby's head, the rest of the body seems to just slop out quickly.

She was born at 9:20am about 5 hours after the first mild pains.

She was wiped a little and placed on me. I think I was chatting away at this point but trying to hide my shock of not being prepared for the baby yet. I didn't feel that I deserved her to be born yet. That I had to work harder with the others.

OH commented lots about how quickly I seemed to recover from the birthing mess I was. The G&A drunken effects wearing off instantly.

I felt the midwife tugging at the umbilical cord and pulling out the placenta. Again, that's a lovely feeling. Gungy and sloppy, it almost soothes the grazing pain I was feeling after delivery.

Then the after pains kicked in. AGONY!

The mouthpiece was back in use and I was huffing and puffing away.

She was weighed and dressed and in my OHs arms.

I became suddenly aware that my stripy socks were soaking with amniotic fluid.

She wasn't the most beautiful of babies born. She was blueish (congestion due to fast delivery) and her eyes were so swollen and puffy. She looked like a cold alcoholic. But the love was instant and in my eyes she was perfect.

The most scrumptious tea and toast is usually provided after giving birth. It's like a prize/reward and it is the best tea and toast you will ever taste. Then I was hurried into the bath.

We were wheeled up to the ward for a few hours, where we the three of us got to spend some bonding time alone...

Forgive Him? I Think Not

It made me cry in the car today when I thought of the past nine months and how difficult they had been. The one golden shining prize was the baby being born and this happy time of newness as a family.

A happy time that should be precious and memorable but instead has been ruined and filled with sadness.

Maybe for him it is all smoking related. His withdrawal and frustration is being taken out on us. He did have the nerve to blame me for not being supportive of him quitting, despite the fact he hasn't been supportive of me quitting, or giving birth or suffering with quinsy or struggling with breast feeding, hormones, fear of coping and not having a routine, retard ex-husband issues, anything and everything that is hitting me at the moment. I can hardly agree he has been even slightly supportive of me.

I intended on quoting from texts sent by him, to highlight with examples how hurtful things have been but I would only cry if I had to look back through them.

On occasion over the last 2 weeks I have been filled with hatred for him. Yet I seem to be the one that gives in, that makes an effort, that hugs him, that allows general chit chat.

I alternate between wanting to leave while he is working, to staying and making him tea. To trash his precious electrical belongings to try to affect him, but instead I wash and iron his clothes. I lay in bed crying a few nights ago, yet when I went out for food, I still brought him some. I want to go out and fuck someone else to hurt him, but he would probably just feel relieved.

Yet again, this morning I have cried twice because of him but have still text him to see what time his break is so I can take him a breakfast treat.

I'm pathetic. He hurts me and I do things that show him I am allowing him to continue doing it.

But I don't think I will forgive him for wrecking my special time over the last 2 weeks. Ever

Mini Blog 3

Even though he knows the increased risk of cot death and that he cannot be next to her while she is sleeping, he still smokes.

He held her for about 5 minutes this morning and not much more this evening. Now he has to sleep on the sofa again tonight. What's the point?

Now The Rain Has Gone

Last Friday, I got a clearer idea on the cause of my suffering for the last few months. I lay in the dark, the Unit beside me as I watched her refusing to reveal her face to us all. I felt really emotional as I prodded my belly trying to make her move into a better position.

It was the first time I felt "bonded" and it was difficult not to cry in front of everyone. I spent the evening peeking at her picture but wanting to leave it on screen and just stare at it.

All the doubts I have had, vanished.
She was sleeping.
She looks like the Boy as he sleeps...
...She was beautiful