my-speck » birthing

Dear Baby…. you are always on my mind.

rakster — Wed, 25 May 2011 03:36:50 +0000

Dear Baby,

quick note to let you know that you are occupying my mind more and more as the date of your arrival approaches. It’s just that I’m a bit busy… so haven’t got to telling you about it.

So I intend each day from now on to write you at least a small note.

Today’s message: please hang in there for at least another 11 days.

I’ve had a few close friend’s babies arrive a few weeks early recently. Please, just hang out a bit longer, enjoy the swim and the swishy noises of digestion and heartbeats, because I really need a bit of a break after I finish work this Friday (the reason I haven’t written for so long – lots of work and just tired tired tired at the end of it all)… And then we want to go to the beach for the weekend with your little brother for a last getaway before you join us on the outside of my tummy.

I didn’t get a single day’s break when your brother O arrived two years ago, working up until the day before he came (not quite planned that way, but that’s how it goes I guess).

…

Those really strong tweaky feelings right down in my pelvis the other night sort of freaked me out a bit… I’m ready mentally for you to come, but not quite ready in real life: I haven’t even pulled down the baby clothes from the top of the cupboard yet….

So, hang tight, keep swimming around, and enjoy the ride. please.

love mum.

Birth Story: “A Generation Ago”

rakster — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 01:33:13 +0000

Hello Poogie ,

So. The first Birth Story in the series is today’s reading.

This story is by your maternal Great Grandmother about your Grandma K joining the world. So I guess now it is two generations ago, rather than one. It’s very special to me and I’m really glad that my Grandma got to share it with us – it’s a sneak peek into birthing in the 1950′s. Your Grandma was a very beautiful person, and someone who was always there for me during my childhood. I’m crying as I write this as I still miss her (she died 17 or so years ago). I really would have liked if you could have met her – you’ll have to imagine her based on my stories about her and some of the things she did leave me and I can share with you: a love of baking, reading (poetry collections) and going to the movies.

…………………..

Birth Story Details:

where: hospital, Australia

when: 1952

who: birth of your Grandma K

…………………..

A Generation Ago

At 7am on 30 May, 1952, I woke up with an uneasy sensation in the stomach. My husband suggested that I rest in bed while he prepared breakfast. As soon as the smell of bacon and eggs floated through the house, I felt nauseated and made a frantic dash to the toilet. That was when the continuous pain set in – not the intermittent bouts I had been told to expect. Breakfast forgotten, we took off for the hospital, foot well down on the accelerator all the way. No relief from the thrusting pain at all.

By 7:40am I was admitted to the hospital where immediate preparations went into top gear. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was rushed into the public labour ward as the intermediate ward was filled to capacity. As I was wheeled into the long room, I was horrified at the complete lack of privacy: only flimsy curtains separated the beds on which women lay in all stages of the birth process. Some were groaning, some shrieking and a few for whom the ordeal was over smugly assured me how wonderful it was to have the birth all over.

My pain continued unabated while I had to endure that humiliating preparatory shaving and the putting on of those big white leggings that went right up to the top of the thigh. When my legs were hoisted in the air, I was given that gas-mask to use when the pain became too agonising. I tried desperately hard to avoid the use of this, but the continuing constant pain beat me a couple of times. By the time my own doctor came on the scene, I was so exhausted that I felt I couldn’t stand any more of the unremitting pain. In response to the sister’s urgings such as “You want your baby, don’t you? Try harder, harder!”, I made my last supreme effort and stayed conscious long enough to see my daughter held up in the air – and to hear one nurse exclaim, “What a shrimp!”. I flaked out without producing the afterbirth; so that had to be removed by force without my active participation. It was all over by 10:40am – not a bad effort for a thirty-eight-year-old woman producing her first child.

Because of a lack of beds in the wards, I was kept in the labour ward for the next five hours during which I witnessed births of all kinds and developed admiration for the hospital staff and the way they coped with so many different emergencies so competently.

I must admit, however, that I was more than pleased when a bed for me became vacant in one of the intermediate wards.

Footnote: When my husband came to see me in the afternoon, he complained rather bitterly of the bad headache he’d had all the morning!

…………………..

Birth Stories – hopefully the start of a series…

rakster — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 06:34:32 +0000

Today I’m getting around to another one of those not-a-new-years-resolution resolution: get there with the birth stories. Well, start the process anyhow. Did you notice I was digging around in the storeroom the other day looking for a book? It’s all related. I thought I’d start simply with a letter I wrote to some friends a month or more ago – but if you’re reading and you want to take part, drop me a comment…

Hello!

As I think most of you know, I started blogging when I was pregnant & have continued on with my ramblings since then. One of the important posts that I haven’t got around to yet is finishing off the birth story post. I’ve almost got it down, I did most of it in the weeks after Poogie was born, but time is slipping away, and I want to get it out there. I’ve requested a dad version too, which is due before christmas sometime (husband read a book with dad’s versions of birth stories before Poogie was born to help with the birth preparation and found it really helpful). And I have an idea…

When I was a kid, my mother shared her experience having my sister R2, with our family, and had a home birth, which I watched. It’s still one of the best and most memorable experiences of my childhood. Perhaps another reason I remember it so clearly (apart from the event itself) was that soon after that my mum helped edit a book on birth stories. I wrote about my sister’s birth and did a picture, which was published, along with many other stories, in the book. My mum’s story of my birth and my sister’s birth, and my grandmother’s story about my mum’s birth was also published in the book. So. I had the idea before Poogie was born that it would be nice to publish not only his birth story, but republish those of others in my family at the same time, so they’re in one spot and celebrate us all. And, thinking about it further, I thought that it would be an idea to publish a few friends’ birth stories too – that is, if they wanted to share them.

So – here is my request to you. If you have a story (or two, or three) that you (or your partner or kids / family) would like to share, I’d love to be able to publish it on the blog. I’d be happy to do so. Just words, photos and words, anonymous, not-anonymous.. Whatever suits you best…

Love me

P.S. The book my mum worked on was about homebirth – but we’re interested in all types of births, babies or experiences

Me me me me me me me.

rakster — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 01:42:29 +0000

Hello Little Speckle.

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Yes. Me. I am a person. And I’m a separate person from you, believe it or not. I know you don’t understand that yet, and you definitely think my boobs are just yours for the taking. But believe me, I’m a person. And over the last few weeks it’s had me thinking a lot about that fact. I guess doing some long hard thinking and wondering where I fit into the equation of our family. And where the ‘me’ bit is in it all.

Actually, this question has been niggling away at the back of my mind for months. It started when I was pregnant – I guess one of the reasons I started this blog. A realisation that to you, for many years, I’m just going to be ‘mum’. And it will be taken-for-granted that I will be there for you, with you, in the background of your life. I thought a lot about the fact that you wouldn’t even conceive that I did things and had a fruitful and fulfilling life before you came along. Just wouldn’t be interested…

Since you were born it’s changed to a more day-to-day struggle to balance out the ‘mum’ from the ‘me’. From talking to lots of other mums, it seems a very common contemplation. It really is a difficult adjustment going from full-time gainful employment in your chosen career and a busy and active social life with just yourself and your partner to think of and straight into motherhood. I’ve been happy, alternately anxious, happy again, tired, exhausted, wonderously surprised, excited, busy, planning… It is definitely is an up and down road.

So I’m happy today because I feel like I did something for myself this week. All for me. A small thing, but it feels like an achievement. Actually, a couple of things:

Ricotta Hotcakes with Stewed Peaches

I did the second installment of my not-new-year’s-resolution resolution – to try to cook at least one new thing a week. Last week was apple pie. This week in honour of your aunt Milla in NY’s birthday, I made Bill Granger’s Ricotta Hotcakes but with a variation – I just stewed up some of the plentiful and delicious fresh peaches that are in season and served with that. I’ve posted the recipe… You ate some too:
Poogie eating ricotta hotcakes
I almost got your Dad’s website finished. It’s been a learning process, and I’ve been at it for a while. But when we FINALLY get the stuff from the graphic designers, I’ll be able to launch it. Whew.
Most importantly, I found the book I was looking for. When I say found, I mean: searched through and emptied about 15 dirty, dusty, musty boxed from in our store room to find (the boxes are part of the around 50 boxes we have down there stored full of stuff from one of the four times we’ve moved house in the last five years but not yet unpacked). So I found it: the book my mum was assistant editor on years and years ago about homebirth. Yay. There is a reason I wanted it, which I’ll explain in another post, but suffice to say it’s been on my “want-to-do” list for at least two months and your dad thankfully took you out yesterday afternoon, allowing me to root around in the storeroom and find it. Along with boxes of kitchen appliances, serving platters, more books, old clothes…

No doubt I won’t feel quite as elated tomorrow, and I’ll continue to oscillate back and forth on all sorts of things like a yo-yo. But for today I feel GOOD and quite pleased with myself.

Love and kisses
your mum

Happy (1/2) Birthday to you, Happy (1/2) Birthday to you, Happy (1/2) Birthday dear Poogie

rakster — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 09:17:29 +0000

Hello Little Munchkin,

Happy HALF birthday!

Today to-the-day six months ago you were squirming your way through the birth canal and I was vocalising my quite large lungs out in the birthing suite at the Mater Hospital. I’m amazed that the time has passed so quickly, and that you seem to have survived your dad and my parenting for six months without suffering any majorly noticeable strange physical or mental effects.

(Aside: Though the doctor when examining you this week did comment on how stubborn you seemed. “Is he normally this stubborn?” was her question in response to your repeated attempts to eat her finger then her stethescope, and not be dissuaded by anyone, nor distracted by anything else. Sure meant taking your vitals was a bit harder than normal. Well, there wasn’t much chance of that character trait not getting passed down.)

you’re gorgeous

So. You’re still a little gorgeous one. When you first came out of the womb, you looked like this:

Fresh from the womb - first photo of you

You’ve grown somewhat over the six months. Funnily. I still can’t believe how much. This week you weighed in at 7.8 something kilos. Heavy like a brick.

somewhat bigger today at six months!

We had a very chilled-out celebration of this big milestone. You practiced laughing a lot, did a lot of rolley polley on the bed with your dad and I, and we took some photos

Celebrating Six Months - the three of us in the mirror

and had some great play-time:

mum play time

So.

Happy Birthday darling, and a big self-congratulatory hug to both myself and your dad for getting this far.

Love and kisses
mum

P.S. And if you’re reading this, leave a comment to Poogie to pass on your wishes personally!

Hiccups. Again. Its one of the strangest feelings I've ever felt. And Antenatal Classes Mark #5.

rakster — Fri, 01 May 2009 07:20:55 +0000

Hello Little Spectacle,

How are things going with you? All well with me. You’re awake and down there hiccupping again. It must be that time of day. Its one of the strangest things I’ve ever felt. Apparently it could be you practicing breathing by exercising your diaphragm. You started it last week. And have continued almost daily since then. There is a sort of popping kinda feeling down in my uterus. It almost feels as though there is a membrane in there somewhere going in and out. A bit like the silver top from an old-fashioned bottle of milk coming off. Repeatedly. Inside me. So, yeah, a bit weird and freaky. But also, now that I’m used to it, comforting in some strange way.

Antenatal classes continued last night. Your dad wasn’t keen to go, pramway construction having reached an impasse for the day – a few little niggly mistakes in the pramway causing a bit of back-tracking had put him in a particularly foul mood. However your craving for potato-gems for dinner (all you, not me at all) I think helped lift his spirits, as did the fact that his planned dentist visit wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. Thus, belly-full of fried, baked and rolled-in-sour-cream oily potato goodness (with some coleslaw thrown in for good measure), we trundled off to the hospital to meet with our friends the midwife and other pregnoid couples. Its a bit strange but I’m going to miss it a bit when it finishes, six weeks of jokes and disbelief and panic with other couples really does bring you together slightly. Its been really odd observing them too, and seeing how they interact as couples, what they are looking forward to, scared of, all those things. There are a mix of people of different ages and backgrounds, but all are excited and keen and its lovely to see that too.

Last night was Caesarean Sections and Breastfeeding. Relatively depressing really. It was all very serious. Your dad went green watching the Caesarean Section video, while I coped apart from the part when they showed the epidural going in. The cutting through the stomach tissue & then the breaking of the uterine sack was actually pretty cool. The uterine sack thing was really white and of course all the waters started just squirting out everywhere when they put the scalpel through it slightly. Watching a white and purple head emerge from a big cut was a bit surreal. That really freaked your dad out while I thought that bit was kinda cool. The little baby they pulled out was very purple but quickly started to breathe and got some colour. And cried. It wasn’t very happy!

I don’t really want a caesarean, I guess no-one really does want any surgery if they don’t have to have it. I think I’d find it really weird being awake through it – and it takes so long and there are so many people in the room. I think to some extent I’d rather be able to see it than just see a big blue sheet with lots of doctors and nurses and midwives moving around behind it. Another thing that you really don’t know how you’d cope with until it happens.

Breastfeeding is a bit the same. Yep, they are pretty pro-breastfeeding at the hospital, which is good, but really, how much can you learn in an antenatal class??? I found it a bit ho-hum, as I’ve read a bit about it before and generally think its one of those things that is going to be hard to take in until you try it yourself. Chatting with your dad on the way home though, he said he found it really informative and useful. So we got something out of it. Oh, I guess the bit I got was that if you do use bottles / express or whatever, there is no need for any sterilisation palava as long as you wash it. Your milk, your baby, your bottles and knick-knacks, no sterilisation required. Awesome. That helps.

Today I took a lunch break and went down to West End and had a massage. My back has been pretty sore and sitting at my desk all day tap-tap-tapping doesn’t help. It was lovely. I lay there for 15 minutes afterwards and relaxed, then gave you a massage of your own, as you’d woken up. You seemed to enjoy your massage too and went back to sleep. Its my way of getting you used to my touch before you come out.

Pramway - Our front yard before commencement of construction

Your dad is still out the front pramway-building. I’m going to finish off in here and then head off to yoga.

Pramway is underway. Nearly ready for the decking!

love you.

mum

under construction - getting those joists in was a lot of work. Hopefully it will hold the weight of people walking up and down it for years.

Antenatal Classes Mark #4. And you uncle is staying with us.

rakster — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 03:12:09 +0000

Hello Little Spectacular,

how are you today? Going well down there? All is well out here. I was feeling a little off yesterday and had a few doctor’s appointments, so took the day off work. Subsequently today, a Saturday, feels like Sunday and I’m already all relaxed and happy. I like three day weekends. I’ve been out to the markets and bought some fresh strawberries, limes for coconut and lime ice cream, beetroot and lots of other goodies.

This week has been busy. Your uncle has been staying, so our house has been busier / noisier than normal, in a good way. Its strange getting used to someone different being in the house with your dad and I. We are really very set in our ways. I think its a good preparation for you coming – we’ve had to be more flexible and not do things exactly the same way. I know you’ll create much more havoc than him, but getting used to it has been a start. At least I think so.

Antenatal classes this week were about your birth and how to manage pain during it. Basically talking through comfort measures, gas, pethidine and epidurals. Again, a broad mix of people in the room makes for an interesting class. Some women sound like they want the epidural straight away – “why even bother with trying and going through the pain for hours when you know you will want to end up with an epidural anyway?” was a legitimate question (fyi: answer from midwife was along the lines of apart from any personal sense of achievement / desire to labour naturally, doing it upright and moving about will potentially reduce the time of the labour and make it less likely for further intervention). I find it a bit weird, I guess I know the pain relief options, so didn’t learn too much from that, but putting it in context of the labour and when most people use them etc was good. Sounds like the ethos of the birthing centre at the Royal Women’s hospital would have been more our kinda ‘thing’, but I’m sure we’ll be ok at the Mater Private too. I like our obstetrician and I think he’ll respect our choices. I think your dad and I will write a simple birth plan that will be a guide if all goes 100% to plan, with the idea that we’ll just have to chuck it out and do whatever works best (naturally or medically) at the time. Who knows. Maybe you’ll be well behaved and your neural pathways will just guide you to be a perfect little descending head, facing the right way, getting your cord out of the way, and not getting too stressed about the whole thing. On the other hand, maybe you’ll freak out, or my body will freak out, and we just have to get you pulled out as quick as can be. Whatever way, your dad and I are looking forward to meeting you more and more every day.

The other weird part of the class was seeing the little suction-cap that they can use to assist pulling you out. My goodness, its quite small, the suction cup about half the size of the palm of my hand. But very strong suction. You could use it as a pretty good drunk & sleeping trick on someone & give them a hickie-like bruise in a perfect 6cm diameter. Party trick. No wonder babies get even more misshapen little heads when they get pulled out that way. Ow.

The class finished with a lovely video about babies and ‘dad time’. It was about gazing and how important this will be for you to develop your neural connections, and how your dad can start to bond with you from day one by helping you practice. And that your dad can settle you too – its not all about the boob. A mushy, gooey video that made me and your dad feel excited and look forward to you coming. It was interesting that in the video it talked about babies recognising their dad’s voices almost immediately, even in the hour after you are born. Apparently your dad’s voice may be able to cut through all the background noise, whatever is happening, and you’ll focus on it. I already think I’ve told you that I think you react to your dad’s voice even now – kicking and moving around and playing when we are talking, or he is talking to you. So I hope you’ll recognise him straight away when you come out too.

Yesterday was another obstetrician visit. Our doctor was away – apparently he’d had a busy week – so his fill-in was there. He is a funny, old man who is very friendly and relaxed. His comment when he saw me was that I’d “got bigger than last time I saw you”. Funny that. Anyway, all is good with you, as we knew, you’re head down, bum up, with your legs and arms coming over to the left hand side of my body, which is why I feel you kicking and moving around there. He made your dad feel your head through my stomach – which was funny as your dad didn’t really want to, having done so already before going to the doctors, but with some encouragement (ie insistence on the doctor’s part) he did. We were talking about it on the way home and decided that maybe some people don’t push on their tummies to work out where their babies are – and even less-so the man doing this to the woman. We do it all the time. But then recalled a conversation I had with other women at the antenatal classes, about where the baby was sitting, and apart from the ones whose obstetricians had told them, most didn’t know. Which I thought was a bit weird, as I know where you are. But maybe they don’t push around and feel with their hands? I do. I give you massages every day, and generally have a talk to you while I do it. I wait until you’re awake and having a play mostly. Other news from the obstetrician – I’ve remained the same weight since my last visit (see, some women do put on a lot at the beginning and then flatten out over time), my blood pressure is the same and good, and your heart is still beating away. All A-ok. Good growing.

Going to run and eat cheese, bread and figs for lunch. To nourish you, of course.

love you

fig and cheese for lunch

mum

Antenatal classes Mark 2#. And these iron tablets do really make me farty.

rakster — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 23:33:32 +0000

Hi Speck,

Its Easter friday! Yay for holidays. I’m baking almond and chocolate friands to take to your Grandma K’s for an easter get together. Your dad is doing his usual interfering and telling me my oven is too hot (despite the fact I’ve never seen him cook any cake except cheesecake in his life). He’s just a know-all.

almond chocolate friands

So. Last night was antenatal classes Mark 2. This time with a midwife instead of with a physio. Actually learnt a lot. Which was good – the time went quickly rather than slowly. The class was about introducing us to the three stages of labour, and talking about when we should think about phoning the birthing ward to come to hospital. We had a tour of a birthing suite and watched a few videos of babies being born. Lots of things to think about. I cried watching the videos. I’m still really emotional and I got a bit scared and excited and happy all at the same time. Luckily I was at the back of the room so it was only your dad, the couple beside me and the midwife who noticed tears streaming down my cheeks. Its strange to not have any real idea what is going to happen to you and how you will cope, and not have much control over it all. It could all go smoothly and then we get to choose some things, or it could all go a bit not as expected in which case we relinquish control to a bunch of health-care professionals. I could just lose it and go crazy in the middle of it all. Who knows. Maybe I’ll get to transition stage and just be adamant that I’m going to pack up and go home and pretend there is no baby business happening at all.

Anyway, I’m glad I took a notebook, as everyone had lots of questions and the class was good in that it was relatively unstructured and the midwife was thorough in her answers. I wrote down a bunch of things I wanted to find out more about; things to ask and talk to our obstetrician about (gee, who knew that some of them still want you to get up onto the bed and be prone when you’re actually pushing the baby out in the second stage – I thought things had moved on – maybe not – gee I hope ours lets us do it however feels best for me); things for your dad and I to decide (do you need a vitamin K injection and Hep B as soon as you’re born?); and just general stuff that I thought I’d forget. We walked to the hospital again but it was raining on the way home so we taxied. May have to rethink the walking to the hospital idea just ’cause your dad will be in charge of bringing all the stuff along. But maybe we can still do it just with our birthing bag, and someone can bring the rest later? Mmm.. Anyway, I think the most important things to remember from the class was the phone number of the birth suite and basically if you get any body fluids happening then phone them. Got it. Phone them. Your dad put the number in his phone. Hopefully he can find his phone when the time comes. I might just write the number on the whiteboard too.

When we got home we had a chat about some of the things they talked about at the hospital. I think both of us think that since we’re so close (literally 10 minutes walk) that we don’t have to worry about traffic or anything, so we should be ok to stay at home if everything is going well for quite a while. Yes, the hospital is brand new and the rooms are big and spacious, and pretty nice, but its still a hospital with linoleum floors and unnatural lighting and lots of equipment and not much to look at. I think if we are in first stage of labour for a long time it would be much nicer to be at home if we’re comfortable with that. We can have whoever we like there, we have our own creature comforts, and there is more to do and look at. But, who knows. We may panic in the throws of pain and think its all happening much faster than it is, or be uncomfortable at home, and then just trip on in really early.

Yep, so of course I dreamed about you arriving again last night. This time it was more focussed on your birth. I was on all fours on the ground a lot, near a hand-wash basin for some reason, during a lot of the labour. It was kinda painful but rhythmic. I remember thinking oh, there it goes again and feeling it just going of its own accord. Then I was squatting on the side of a chair and you came out, all slimey and red and with a lot of white vernix all over you. You had blackish hair plastered to your head, but not too much, just some. Your head was squished and a bit oblong. And this time you were a boy and I definitely sighted your genitalia. For some reason when you were born I actually forgot to see if you were a boy or a girl and I remember asking people a few minutes later and they were all surprised I hadn’t worked out or checked that you were a boy already. I remember just being glad that you were out and you were healthy.

This dream went on and on and on. I woke up and one point and I’m pretty sure I told your dad about it then went back to sleep and continued on with the same dream. Until you woke me at 6:30 with some strong stomach pounding.

Going to get non-burnt friands from oven and go for morning tea.

Love you

mum

P.s. Oh yeah, side effect of these iron tablets seem to be even worse gas than I had previously. I read a bit on the web and there are a bunch of women on forums who say this has happened to them too. And some of them say the smell is really bad. I haven’t noticed that yet thankfully, but it means I have to be very careful. I was like a ticking time bomb during the antenatal classes. I didn’t make it out of the room a few times and let loose big loud ones. The tour of the hospital and where to park was a good diversion as we were outside and I could lag behind the group. But sitting still and watching videos as I felt like I might float out of my chair was trying. Your dad was peeing himself with laughter and kept telling me to go to the toilet (again, helpful if you know you need to fart but they come on very quickly and are very large and frequent. So I would be like a yo-you back and forth. My policy is hold them in and then do it all at once in the toilet).

Antenatal classes mark one

rakster — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 22:47:59 +0000

Hello there speck,

Hope you’re sleeping well…. I certainly didn’t. My maternity pillow certainly helped, but all in all it was a horrible night. I tossed and turned (albeit not with the speed and ease I’m used to) all night, kept awake by a plethora of exciting things: back pain, the nightly possum migration from the neighbours to our house and visa versa via the window awning directly beside our bed, pubic symphysis pain, and a rowdy and recurring bat fight presumably in a fruit tree nearby. Yippee!

Your dad and I walked up to the first of six antenatal classes at the hospital last night. It was a manageable walk, we were both thinking that when the time comes it might be easier to walk to the hospital than drive. That said, I’m glad we have five more antenatal sessions to get to: your dad is directionally challenged at the best of times, and I can forsee him getting me to the oncology ward instead of the mother’s hospital unless he gets to practice how to get there at least a few more times…

The class itself was kinda funny. It would be really hard to pitch a class like that to such a mixed audience – it was the “changes in your body” or something like that class, run by a phsyio. Essentially we talked about some of the obvious changes that can happen to your body, and did some exercises to stretch our pelvises and relax and stuff like that. All pretty straight-forward, and if you hadn’t worked it out by this point in the pregnancy you’d have to have had your head under a blanket pretending you weren’t pregnant. There were about eight couples in the class, ranging from 25 to 31 weeks pregnant. We practiced getting in and out of bed and picking a baby from the floor and putting it on a bed and picking it up again. You were played by a big white hospital pillow. Well acted. While it was ok, I’m looking forward to the bit run by the midwives where we get to see the birthing suites and talk through more about baby stuff and less about pubis bones. I think that will be more relevant to me.

Had another appointment at the obstetrician today. I’ve hit a new milestone in the weight department. Yippee again. Still walking / cycling / yoga or something nearly everyday, but I guess I’m eating more than normal too. Oh well. Have a glucose test and a bunch more blood things scheduled for Monday, so hopefully that will prove that I’m all ok and just a bit fat (i.e. not diabetic or anything). Not much to report from the obstetrician, all he did was ask if I was ok, at which point I burst into tears, and then he hustled me in to take blood pressure and hear your heartbeat. My blood pressure is all good. And your heartbeat was a bit irregular but we poked you and it went back to fast again. Apparently its normal for your heartbeat to change speed a lot, often as I change position etc. He also palpitated my uterus and your head is pointing down where it should be. Which I knew already as your kicking my ribs on the bus on the way in indicated where you were quite clearly.

Otherwise. Starting to think more seriously about the fact that you’ll need a name. Your dad and I have a few options that we’ve come up with, and one or two we even like. I guess though we need to ponder some more. And see you.

Keep safe.

love mum

p.s. last night in between anxiety attacks and nightmares consisting of work and family-related melodramas, I dreamt that you were born, but that somehow there were four of you. I was trying to leave the hospital and having difficulty working out how to get four babies home. My dad (your grandad) and my mum (your grandma K) were both there. I remember I just kept saying over and over to your grandad, “I don’t understand. There was only ever one when they did the scans. Where did the other ones come from?”. He just shrugged and continued to try to help collect you all…

dreaming of your birth

rakster — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 21:53:36 +0000

Dear Speck,

good morning little squirmy one. You are moving around whenever I sit or lie still. Its been going for days. Given that I work sitting still, and sleep lying down, that is a lot of squirming. Its quite disconcerting to lie down and watch you make my stomach go into strange shapes. You can make it ripple, make a lump in it as you push up & stay pushing up, and make it just jiggle a lot. Good work.

Had a strange dream about you last night. I was reading about birthing before bed, so no surprises as to where the thought process came from. The dream was about you being born. Good for me, you came out really quickly, and it wasn’t too painful – I actually remember saying to your dad, “well, that wasn’t too bad, must have been really lucky”. Anyway, you were gorgeous except you had a very funny shaped little nose. Your eyes looked at me and I loved you a lot straight away and just didn’t want to put you down. You were pretty clean too compared to the mucous and blood-covered babies I’ve seen born before. You were also amazingly well-developed for a newborn as next thing in the dream you were trying to pull your own head up and I was trying to make sure I didn’t drop you as you squirmed around.

I think I have a phobia about dropping you when you come out.
And you were a girl, though I don’t remember seeing any genitalia, just knowing that you were a girl. You had a big head too. But it is your eyes that I remember most clearly. Bit spooky.

This week overall you’re suddenly feeling a lot more real to me. Might be all the moving around. I’ve started calling you baby, and now I really think of you as a little person more and more. Wheras before you were a bit more ephemeral in my mind somehow… Now you’re solid and you move me around when you want, and you seem to get cranky when I lie on the side you’re resting on, and you seem to respond to your Dad’s voice when he talks to you (or me) by moving around. And if you were born early you might survive in a humidicrib. Much more than just a speck.

anyway, hope you enjoy the exercise down there.

love you
mum

windscreen washing the inside of my uterus

rakster — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 22:11:24 +0000

Hello Little Round Ball (’cause there is no way you are a speck anymore, its a round ball down in there… you’re still my Speck, but your house is shaped more like a ball),

how are you? I’m tired again. Exhausted in fact. Yes, I know I’m commuting Sydney-Brisbane, and that is a bit tiring, but I’m disproportionally tired. It started last week. The weekend was good but I could barely keep my eyes open at night. We went to G&Ks for a barbeque on Friday night and it was only 8:15pm when I had to leave and go home – I was going to fall asleep at the table.

You on the other hand have been moving around like you’re in an aerobics championship. You’ve got some new moves too – they started on Saturday. Lying in bed on Saturday morning I noticed something different. You now do big sweeping movements with feet and or hands – right across my belly. If you can think of someone washing the inside of a car windscreen with big round movements, that’s what it feels like you’re doing. Lots of that and less of the one-off kicking. It feels pretty freaky to be honest. It just lasts so long. I think the short sharp kicks were easier to deal with. And you’re definitely growing at a rapid rate, as now when I feel you moving around – I feel as though I can tell where your head, legs and arms are pretty often. And every time you’re wiggling about and doing tumble turns. Which is frequently.

I couldn’t sleep last night. After a while, you woke up too and started to do the calesthenics. You kick really hard now – if I’m looking at my stomach I think I can almost see where your foot pokes the stomach out. Anyway, I figured that I may as well practice ‘training you in acrobatics’ for fun, like the girl I work with is going to do with her baby. I thought it was a bit of a joke, but pushed just where you had kicked, and then you thumped back even harder than the first time. I moved my fingers a few cm along my stomach from where the original kick was and pushed again, and, surprise, you moved and kicked back in the new position. Funny. I did it a few times after which you settled down again. I then gave you a massage, which you seemed to like. I’m starting to feel now that you’re really a little person in there. Before you were just a ‘baby’. Some kind of growing blob. Now you are starting to feel more and more real. I had a chat to you last night while massaging and I was wondering what you were thinking. ‘Cause I think you’re thinking now. I wish you’re Dad could feel these changes in you too – I think its definitely part of the ‘mum’ gets used to baby coming along part of being pregnant for nine months. Last night you felt like a boy to me. A month ago while walking home one night I had a premonition that you were a girl. So, I obviously don’t know.

We went and met your obstetrician in Brisbane last Friday. He is very relaxed. He told me to eat anything, just avoid bungee jumping and advised not to take up heroin at this point. I think I can manage that. Your dad and I were surprised when we looked at the chart to see how big you are now. No wonder I can feel you – you’re much bigger than a coke can (which is where I thought you were at). I guess you won’t know him, but be reassured he is a very amicable person who seems supportive of what we want to do in the birth. He is apparently well-known for only intervening and doing a c-section if absolutely necessary – chatting to him about this made me feel like he would be the right person to help us along. I still wish to some extent that the model of care offered in Australia was more flexible though – while I like him, I’d also like for us to be able to choose our own midwife to come along and be there before, during and after your birth. That’s not an option with the way the hospitals and medical system works today. Which I think is a travesty. But, ce la vie. I guess you take what you can get and make what you will with it. Hopefully your Dad and I will cope regardless. As the doctor emphasised, the birth is going to be the ‘easy’ bit in retrospect. Yep, it will be hard, and stressful, and most likely hurt a lot, but it will be over pretty quickly. Wheras you’ll be with us for a long time afterwards. To worry about forever more.

kisses
mum.

The birthing suite experience – Fawlty Towers couldn't have done it better…

rakster — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:06:38 +0000

Hi Speck,

So, your dad doesn’t want me to write about this, because he thinks that it might worry people (who read my letters to you) unnecessarily. I think though, on reflection, that it’s part of being pregnant and I want to tell you about it. And there were some funny moments.

We had planned to get to Dunedin yesterday and catch up with J & J for the afternoon, which, especially as we haven’t seen them at length in a coupla years, we were both looking forward to. But it didn’t quite work out that way. We got an extended stay in one of the birthing suites at Dunedin’s hospital, St Mary’s, instead. I wanted to take photos at the time but your dad was pretty stressed out and didn’t want me to, so no pictures for you, just the story.

I had a little bit of bleeding which started on Saturday afternoon. It wasn’t a massive amount, so I wasn’t worried about it, as I’ve read that lots of women get bleeding sometimes during their pregnancies. And I read a forum that people who are due in the same two weeks as me post on, and lots of them have had bleeding episodes, and so I know its pretty common and usually, once you’re past week 12 or so, works out fine. Since you’re now 21 weeks closer to joining us than when you were first being prepared by my body as a little polyp waiting to burst forth into an egg, I wasn’t too concerned cause you’ve got yourself well settled and my last scan showed that my placenta was anterior and more importantly, high; also, my cervix was shown as fully closed. Apparently the placenta being low and having bleeding is generally more of a worry. But, you have a good spot, which is important, and I knew that so wasn’t too worried.

Went to bed on Saturday night and felt fine, so all good. But by Sunday afternoon, after flying from Christchurch to Dunedin and getting to our hotel, I was still bleeding a little and a little bit worried. I was feeling perfectly healthy and hadn’t had any cramping, sickness or other bad signs, but your dad and I just wanted to check, especially as we were planning on heading off on a cycling trip on Monday. We both thought that getting on bikes and heading into the NZ Central Otago region where there aren’t too many doctors was perhaps best done after we got some medical advice.

We thus tramped through Dunedin to the 24hr medical clinic, where we didn’t have to wait long before we were seen by an absolutely lovely and thorough female GP. She took a history and read the little pregnancy history card that I now carry with me everywhere. After a quick external feel of my uterus (which by the way she said was ‘a cute little shape – sticks right out and is very round like you swallowed a ball’), she got the little ultrasoundy/doppler machine going and checked your heartbeat. Which was, as expected, all normal and good. Again, she explained this was a good sign as you weren’t distressed or worried about what was happening. She then phoned the hospital and had a chat to the obs registrar, who suggested we should come in for a check. Which is how we ended up in a birthing suite at Dunedin’s hospital.

St Mary’s has a number of birthing suites, a few of which were occupied with women, who, from the sounds we could hear, were in various stages of labour. We were put in one at the end of the ward. A big room decorated in hospital green and more green. With a shower and toilet, a single hospital bed and a couch. The furniture was dwarfed by the size of the room. Clean but old. I had a bit of a cry at that point, as that’s when it became pretty real to me that something might be wrong. I was ok before that, it just hit me for a few minutes. After a quick cry I was feeling better again. But hungry as we had missed lunch. Your dad thankfully managed to get to the cafeteria and back before the midwife looking after us made it in. Thankfully because after asking us a few questions she immediately placed us under ‘quarantine’. Apparently the South island of New Zealand and St Mary’s are the only places on Earth where the superbug MRSA (or something like that) hasn’t yet reached. And as I’ve been admitted to hospital in Australia in the past six months, until proven that I don’t harbour the bug I need to be quarantined… So quarantining meant that the door was shut, no-one allowed to visit (small chance of that anyway), and any medical staff having to be gowned and gloved in disposable plastic stuff before they came in the room. A bit novel. I then had to swab a bunch of my orifices so they could test them for said superbug. Your dad got quarantined with me.

Again, as there are no photos, you’ll have to picture it. Me and your dad in a big green hospital room. For hours. Waiting for the doctors to be free. Apparently there were some births with complications (twins and other stuff) happening. We had our books and a yahtzee game, so we passed the time ok. But the door was closed and we weren’t allowed out. And there were some interesting noises coming from the other rooms. I use ‘interesting’ in a broad sense. More like very loud distressing screaming at regular intervals. It kinda freaked me out but I was strangely calm at the same time. Your dad listened intently, then remarked, “She’s doing it wrong. According to the Janet Balaskas Active Birthing book you’re supposed to work WITH the pain. Not against it.” Ha. On one hand I was pleased – he’s obviously read the book from cover to cover (which is good cause I asked him to and it might help when you come). On the other hand, if he says anything like that to me when I’m trying to get you out I suspect I will try to deck him.

After a while a nurse came and took some blood to go and test to make sure your blood wasn’t in my blood, or something like that (protein testing); and some other things. I forget. She missed my vein and was really bad at it. But nice in person. I coped. I would have passed out from that a few months ago, but the common taking blood thing is starting to make me slightly more used to it. She went away. After a few hours, the intern doctor on rotation came to take my medical history. She was obviously new, and not an obstetrics person, ’cause she asked some funny things and didn’t know stuff like that you can tell which ovary the baby comes from if you get an early ultrasound (you came from the right).

When the doctor finally arrived, she was a lovely but slightly distracted-seeming woman who had obviously had a long day. The intern was in-tow. And what followed was what I’d write as a comedy skit about obstetricians if I were to write one. Picture two doctors, both of whom are distracted and keep forgetting they are supposed to be in quarantine. There were at least 9 changes of gloves for the main doctor as she starts to examine me, then changes to surgical gloves, changes back to non-surgical gloves, thows them, forgets new ones, swears when she remembers, gets new gloves, throws gloves as she thinks she’s finished, then I remind her that she told me she was going to do ‘x’, she recalls, forgets gloves, swears, gets new gloves. Repeat repeat repeat. Add to the distraction a non-functioning or poorly functioning light. Picture me on bed with legs up and two doctors crawling around on floor trying to peer up my fanny: Main Doctor: “well, this light is terrible. Can’t see a thing. Can you see anything?”; Intern: “no, can’t see anything”. Etcetera. I felt like I was in a Fawlty Towers episode: “Visit to the doctor”. Me trying to breathe cause it was a bit painful, but at the same time almost having an out of body experience when I can see how comical the situation is if it weren’t so serious. Your dad alternately trying to comfort me and not be alarmed at the circus going on at the bottom of the bed.

After a lot of gloves, a lot of discussion and lots of feeling around, we determined that we had no idea where the blood was coming from but there didn’t seem to be too much. We had a look at you on the ultrasound and you looked happy and good, and again your heartbeat was fine, as was my bloodpressure etc. And my cervix was still sealed. Did a little test which looked a bit like a litmus test on a long cottonbud which indicated that there was no amniotic fluid leaking out. A good thing, cause the doctor explained that the hospital had a policy of non-intervention if you decided to come along early before the week 24 mark. Which didn’t give you much of a chance if that was what was happening. So amniotic fluid would have been bad. But there wasn’t any. And the blood was slowing.

Didn’t ever find out if I had the superbug as those tests didn’t come back before I was finally discharged. Doctor said all was good, just probably a bit of random bleeding, which is pretty common. She said that the bike riding wouldn’t affect it or worsen it at all, but of course if anything happened to come back into the hospital if needed. And whatever they did seemed to make it stop.

So, your and my first birthing suite experience. Hopefully no more until you actually join us. Though we could make like a general tour of hospitals around Australia and NZ and do a comparative review….

love you. we’re glad you’re ok.

mum

and its nearly only 200 days to go

rakster — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 07:21:55 +0000

Hello Speck!

Your grandad (Australian) has helpfully pointed out that you are no longer a speck, but for the moment that’s what you remain to us, so speck it is. Well, its nearly only 200 days to go (203 today). It is a long time but close in the same breath.

Your Canadian grandma & grandpa arrived two days ago and our house is noisy, with lots of Canadian accents and yelling going on – all good fun – can you hear it? There is lots of cooking and noise and talking and drinking going on.

Meanwhile, your Dad and I are thinking about where you are going to be born and what to do. We have still got an obstetrician in Sydney, and one that we have yet to meet in Brisbane, but also thinking about other options. There are lots of them. Your Canadian grandma might have a fit if we try to have you at home (as she has already got her two cents in on!), but there are a spectrum of options from something like that to a planned c-section in a private hospital. How do you choose? We have both started reading some birth stories for all kinds of births, and some are nice, some are sad and some are scary. I guess it helps to have some idea of the range of things that can happen and what people choose and why. I’d like to have a midwife that we know and feel comfortable with all the way through the birth, rather than, or in addition to, an obstetrician who is only there for some of the bits. But is that necessary? I don’t know. I guess we just have to work out what we are comfortable with and what is best for you and us.

Anyway, we may be getting ahead of ourselves, though we both think its important we think and talk about it to get used to the idea, and have lots of questions for all the people we will no doubt see about your arrival in the coming weeks and months.

Hope you are happy and healthy down there.
love you
mum

chocolate and to wax or not to wax?

rakster — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 02:45:49 +0000

Hi Speck,

howsit going down there? Your dad wants to know if you want to be baptised. Since we’re not religious, and neither one of us are, to our knowledge, baptised, we’ve decided against it for you. If you want to later in life, feel free. Seems a bit premature. Anyway, I think he was just more interested in throwing water at your head: the next question was “Can I squirt it with a watergun?”. To which of course the answer is an unqualified yes, however I think he should note that children seem to like waterguns and as you get older you may return the favour. But not in any religious sense.

The other strange conversation we’ve had today is about the state of my pubic hair when its time to go to hospital. I have to admit, it was me that made a joke about hair removal when reading the hospital book ’cause it mentioned that you can get a hairdresser who comes to your room – but he then wanted to know if I am going to wax my fanny for when you come out. Again, I was slightly mystified as to the reason he would ask such a thing – or even think about it – but apparently he is concerned that I might care what the various people who no doubt will see it will think. Surprising, cause I’m not one to worry about that kind of thing at all! Sorry if I’ve embarrassed you, I guess you mum’s fanny is something no child (nor adult for that matter) really wants to think about for any length of time at all. It does make you wonder though – do other women worry about the state of their fanny when they go into hospital: to hairy bush or to not? Or indeed right the way through their pregnancy, all the scans, the OB visits?? Goodness, you could run a sideline business that was affiliated with clinics that specialised in ‘down there hair care’.

Too much.

Other weird hospital things:

why 7-10 pairs of underpants? Is this number arbitrary or does it suggest 2-3 changes a day for 2-3 days? They don’t specify a style – is it nanna-knicker only or can you go with the kath&kim -style g-banger look?
camera, games, … jigsaws? Jigsaws? Do they mean jigsaw puzzles? Cause to me a jigsaw is a SAW that you use to cut wood. Surely they don’t want your dad to perform surgery on me if it all goes pear-shaped? Urg!. And if they do mean jigsaw puzzles, who really wants to play jigsaw puzzles after they’ve just had a baby?

Hope you’re well. And enjoying my chocolate binge from yesterday. I gave up on healthy eating for the afternoon. A friend had a hangover and wanted a burger for lunch, but as we strolled along Darling Street looking for a burger joint, Adriano Zumbo’s new chocolate cafe just leapt out at us & we had to go in. I had a chocolate milkshake for lunch, followed up with a few handmade chocolates that we shared. Truly to-die for was the violet & *berry (there goes the short-term memory again, it wasn’t blueberry, maybe blackberry??). Anyway, good. I am going back another day. I will miss Adriano when I move back to Brisvegas. The cakes are to drool over – if you haven’t eaten / been there you MUST look: amazing cakes

and two reviews of the chocolate shop.

Have to run, we are going to buy a new baby book – your dad is almost as obsessed as me, which is fun.

bye!

love you.

get bigger.

mum

my-speck » birthing

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