First Day of School Lunch

I used to be really motivated with packing bento boxes for my kids, back before they were in school. I think back then I had a lot more time and energy for making bentos, when it was only one every couple of days. But trying to do it every day is hard work.

I had big plans for starting back up the bentos for this school year, but I failed miserably by not getting to the grocery store this week before school started today. However, I still managed a healthy and varied lunch for Fifi's lunch bag.

Today's Lunch:
Tuna Mayo Wrap
Cherry Tomatoes
Babybel Cheese
Homemade Jelly (Jello)
Fresh Strawberries
Mars Bar Treat (from Granny)
Fresh Orange Juice

And of course, the ever important My Little Pony napkin. When I remember, I also like to stick in a little piece of paper with a joke on it. Will need to print some off this weekend.

What do you put in your packed school lunches?

(I couldn't resist adding a couple of First Day of School photos of the girls too.)

Last Minute School Prep

Still to do before Fifi goes back to school tomorrow:

1. Make a special hair bow for Fifi. I made one for her friends Stacie and Rowan for their birthdays but never made one for Fifi. Should probably make one for their other wee classmate, Ceitidh, too.

2. Paint Fifi's nails. I promised her.

3. Make Fifi's lunch, so it's ready in the fridge to just put in the bag and go.

4. Double check her gym kit, pencils, etc are all in her bag ready to go.

5. Come to think of it, double check I actually got her a gym bag.


All of this would be no problem if I weren't going out tonight to the cinema....


P.S. What is with this rain and gale force wind?!

My First Car Boot Sale

I'm getting ready to reserve a pitch at my first car boot sale.  I've been selling loads of clothes and small items on eBay but still have so many larger items to get rid of that would be too much effort to post.  I've finally convinced Scott I am ready and recovered enough from childbirth to sell my junk at a car boot sale. 

I might allow Fifi to join me, with the understanding that money made from any toys of hers that I am selling (or any toys she decides to sell of her own volition) is hers to put towards her iPad she is saving up for, and hopefully that will reduce the chance of her crying over seeing them go.

On second thought, she'll probably cry anyway.  I'll need to think that one over a bit more...

I saw the ad for pitches Monday but never jotted down the phone number, so I'm going back to where I found the ad (the Greenock cinema*), and I'm going to phone up tomorrow.

Goodbye bags of kids' toys, box of DVDs, old baby stuff and Simpsons donut maker.  I hope you make me a few bob in return for your new homes.  That which does not sell will get lovingly charity shopped.

FINALLY.

*Scott and I will be at the cinema anyway tonight to see The Bourne Legacy.  Still deciding if bringing Jaguar with us will piss off too many people.  It's not like he'll be a distraction; if he starts to stir, I'll just get out my boob!

The NEW 100 Things About Me

As I read through my old 100 Things About Me, I realised I've changed a lot since writing them!  So I now present to you...

The NEW 100 Things About Me:

1. I was born and raised in Arkansas, USA.
2. I went to the University of Arkansas and got my degree in English, with emphasis in Creative Writing.
3. I went on several mission trips growing up, and ended up travelling all over the world. These trips took me to Mexico, Canada, Venezuela, Pakistan, Israel, Jordan and Scotland.
4. In Scotland I met my future husband (though unbeknownst to us at the time).
5. I dated several guys who I thought was 'The One' but was wrong.
6. Then a series of events lead me back to Scotland and therefore Scott.  A year later we were married, and I moved to Greenock, Scotland.
7. Together we have three magnificent but insane children, Fifi, Lolly and Jaguar (all Scottish names).
8. I love languages and have studied French, Arabic, Scots Gaelic and British Sign Language, but I don't speak any of these fluently.  At all.
9. I won first place in the annual Arabic Speech Contest at University by playing an original song in Arabic on the guitar.  The best part is, I don't play the guitar.  At all.
10. Aside from the countries visited on mission trips, I have also been to France.  And England and Wales, which are indeed different countries, even if they are a part of the United Kingdom.
11.  I am terrible at math.  I self-diagnosed myself as dyscalculiac, but this makes Scott roll his eyes.  But for real, I think I am.
12. My husband calls me a hippy.  I prefer to call myself a natural mama. Though the only washing my hair once a week thing might tip me over the edge. (But I draw the line at tie-dye!)
13. Effectively this just means I believe in natural birth, extended breastfeeding, baby-wearing, co-sleeping, natural foods and natural remedies.  I do not like using medicines, am thoroughly against circumcision, and, well, only wash my hair once a week (if that).
14. But I bet you anything my hair is healthier and shinier than yours!
15. Speaking of hair, I dye it a lot.  Currently I am platinum blonde, but in the past I've been every colour between platinum and midnight black.  With some blues, pinks and purples mixed in as required.
16. I love resistance/ strength training classes like BodyPump.
17. I hate dieting though.
18. I freaking love me some chocolate fudge cake.
19. I also love crisps.  ('Chips' if you are American.)
20. I love the Scots dialect.  Words like crabbit, drookit, steamin' and eejit are just too good to be true.
21. I used to write a lot of poetry, but sadly, I don't write as much anymore.
22. I was raised in The Most Republican household, but somewhere down the line I rebelled and am totally a liberal.
23. But 'liberal' does not necessarily mean 'Democrat'.  Nor does it mean I am 'Labour'.  If I were able to vote in the UK, I'd probably vote Scottish Nationalist Party (SNP).
24. This is not because I necessarily want to see Scotland independent but because I like a lot of what the SNP have done for Scotland.  The independence thing could go either way, and I'd be fine with it.
25. But I'm not a UK citizen, so I cannot vote.
26. I'm still a US citizen, and I could vote if I ever remembered to order a ballot in time, but I never remember.  You have to order your ballot, like, decades or something before the next election.
27. I have an indoor pet rabbit named Chewbacca.
28. I always think - when I don't have a pet - that I am a pet person, but then when I get a pet, I realise I am not a very good pet person. 
29. We used to have another rabbit named Zelda, but she died.  We also had fish, but they died.  We used to have two cats, Remedios the Beauty and Clementine, but we gave them to my sister-in-law when I got pregnant with my first child, because I couldn't cope with the smell and the morning sickness.
30. My favourite food is Thai food.
31. My husband and I have a ritual of always going to the same Thai restaurant for our anniversaries.  We always toy with the idea of trying out one of the other restaurants along the same street, but always end up at Thai Siam.  It's just that good.
32. My second favourite food is pizza.
33. My favourite 'date night' activity is Pizza Hut and a movie at the cinema.
34. I have two brothers.
35. I am the middle child.
36. I have serious middle child syndrome.
37. I have three sisters-in-law and two brothers-in-law.  I have two nephews and three nieces.
38. I have a step-mom and a step-dad and numerous step-siblings, most of whom I've not met.  And don't even ask how many step-nieces and nephews there are, I don't even know.
39. My children attend a Gaelic medium school.  This means their entire classroom experience is all in Gaelic, no English.  They will learn to read, write and speak Gaelic before learning to read and write in English.
40. I am very proud of their bilingual education, and proud they are learning their country's native language.
41. My husband is my best friend.  I have other friends (females) who I consider my 'best friends', but I'm too shy about the title 'best friend' to ever actually call any of them my 'best friend' in case they don't feel the same way.  I blame that on fifth grade.  Kids are so cruel.
42. I suppose I hated elementary school.  I still kinda hate some of those kids.
43. Facebook has softened some of my hateful feelings towards my fellow elementary schoolmates.  Not all of them ended up as jerks. (Some did though.)
44. My hobbies change all the time.  But in general I enjoy arts and crafts (cardmaking, sewing, painting), reading, writing (when I find the time) and acting.
45. I did acting in high school.  It was called 'forensics' which isn't the same thing as CSI or Dexter forensics.
46. Speaking of Dexter, it's one of my favourite TV shows.  Along with Scrubs, Glee, How I Met Your Mother and Community.
47. I enjoy amateur dramatics and love being on stage.
48. I can act, and I can sing, but for the life of me, I can't dance.
49. I also can't swim very well.
50. My favourite alcoholic beverage is gin.  Bombay Sapphire especially.  My favourite mixers are fresh cranberry, fresh orange and diet tonic or lemonade.
51. My favourite board games are Scattergories and True Colors.  That is, if those are considered 'board games'.  Neither actually use a board.
52. I believe in gentle parenting and no spanking, but unfortunately I have a quick temper and often fail on both accounts.  But I keep trying.
53. I have a realistic view of myself and am able to forgive myself when I screw up.  But I am still very hard on myself; I want to be the best person I can be, but I accept the fact that I am not she yet.
54. Did you think that last sentence was improper grammar?  It's not.  I am a grammar lover.
55. I adopted British grammar and spelling rules when I moved to Scotland as quickly as I could learn them.
56. My first job was in Little Caesar's Pizza.  I also worked in Pizza Hut.
57. I used to work in a bar while at University, (wo)manning the door.
58. I am now a childminder and a baby signing teacher.
59. I used to be a desktop publisher and graphic designer, but I quit that job when I had Fifi. 
60. All of our children's middle names are named after family members.
61. I used to DJ a couple of radio shows on the University radio station, KXUA 88.3.  I called myself Xia.
62. In high school, I joined as many clubs as possible so I could be in as many club photos in the yearbook as possible.
63. This included math club - even though I was terrible at and hated math - and Japanese club, because it meant I got to go on the annual Japanese club field trip to the Japanese restaurant.
64. I love sock monkeys.
65. I love monkeys in general.
66. I once had a pet pig for all of three hours.  I spent an ungodly amount of money at the town fair trying to win it, but as soon as I brought him home, my mom made me take him back.  Poor Wilbur.
67. I had a pet rat in high school named Squirt.
68. I pet-sat a turtle named Speedy for a couple of years while at University.
69. My roommate at the time did not like when I put Speedy in the bath tub to swim while I cleaned out his tank.  But I didn't like when she left her hair in the bath tub, so it was kind of even.
70. I attend a 'Craft Night' every Tuesday night but most weeks don't do any crafting.  I do a lot of gossiping though.
71. I go to church.
72. I am a Christian who really struggles deeply with being  a Christian.
73. I am of the reformed persuasion when it comes to theology.  It's the only way Christianity can make any sense, even if I don't like it sometimes.
74. I believe in infant baptism (non-salvic) but my husband does not, so we do not baptise our babies.
75. My husband and I are two total opposites, but we agree on almost all of the Big Things, which must be what makes us work so well.
76. I am an extrovert.
77. I like attention.
78. I used to think it was funny to 'moon' anybody and everybody.  Including security cameras.  I was a bit immature back in the day.
79. I still giggle at the word 'sex', so maybe I'm still immature.
80. I do not discount the possibility of ghosts or aliens.
81. I believe in some conspiracy theories.  This is one of those areas in which Scott and I are opposites, and he thinks I'm a hippy.
82. My ideal job would be an editor in a publishing company, or a proof-texter.
83. I use cloth nappies (most of the time).
84. My 'sentimental' favourite band is Tripping Daisy.  My current favourite band is The Decemberists.
85. I used to be in a band called Sharkie.  I think I played about three or four gigs with them before it ended.
86. I was in a fake band called Heart Union, and it was awesome.  We sold merchandise and everything.
87. My favourite colours are green, orange and purple.
88. My favourite colour for decorating the house, however, is red.
89. My favourite colours to wear are black, brown and green.
90. I like football (aka, soccer).
91. I hate American football.
92. I played basketball in elementary school and was simply awful.  But I did win the 'Most Team Spirit Award', which I knew, even then, meant 'Not Eligible for a Real Award'.
93. I love watching and playing tennis.
94. We do not have TV in our house.  We have a TV but no channels.  We only use it for DVDs.
95. I enjoy baking.  Cooking, however, takes some effort.
96. I am not a jealous wife.
97. I used to work in Hot Topic but ended up quitting because my manager thought I wasn't 'punk enough'.  Newsflash, idiot: You work in Hot Topic, so neither are you.
98. I was never into punk.  But I went through a techno/rave phase and an indie phase.
99. I still liked the Spice Girls though, and I was not ashamed to admit it.
100. It is my impossible dream to one day visit the moon.

Baby Weight Blues

So, sure, I only had a baby one month ago.  Yeah, yeah, yeah it took my nine months to put the weight on, it'll take me nine months to get it back off.  I know all this.  I say it to new mums every day. (Or, you know, when it comes up.)

But I am so desperate to get this weight off.

My husband has been on the keto diet for a wee while and has lost tons of weight.  I decided to try it too.  After all, I'm practically eating all the same stuff anyway, since we eat the same meals.  I started on Saturday.

It's Tuesday, and I have already fallen off the wagon.

I'm trying not to beat myself up over it.  I've made excuses.  My excuses are probably pretty valid: breastfeeding, baby born only a month ago, already tired from running after three kids.  But I feel like a failure.  I hate failing anything, even something as small as a diet.  When I decide to go for something, I go for it full on.  To give up makes me feel weak.  I hate feeling weak.

I want to lose 18 lbs to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, and then another 8 to get to my target. I just need to have patience and not rush it.  I have two weeks until my six-week check-up, and as long as I get the go-ahead from the doctor, I'd like to get back to my BodyPump classes.  Very low weights, of course, but anything to get active again.  At least then, I can eat a bit more of what I really want and not feel too guilty about it.

Question is, do I get back onto my diet and just cheat when I need to (i.e., when I need an energy boost) or do I just say screw it altogether?  Is there a middle ground?

Cute, Crazy or Out of Control?

When you have your first child, you are the cutest you will ever be.  You are also the most annoying you will ever be.

When I was pregnant with Fifi, every little niggle was drama.  Ohh my aching back.  Ohh my raging hormones.   Ohh my fill-in-the-blank common pregnancy ailment.  But I was ever so cute with my little bump and my new pregnancy clothes, and it was great all the attention you get when you are pregnant with your first.  And then when I actually gave birth to Fifi, I was ever so precious about everything; I barely even let Scott, her own daddy, hold her because she was MINE and only I knew how to take care of her.  I couldn't get anything done because of the baby.  But all of this is quite cute and endearing really because first time mums are just incredibly cute and endearing.  Cutest and sweetest you'll ever be.

Then you have your second baby, and the cuteness factor returns but only some.  You now realise babies are much easier than toddlers.  You now have a few tricks up your sleeve for getting things done around the baby and the older child.  You are far better at coping, which makes you look more grown up and responsible but less cute and endearing.  Still, people like you.

Then, should you have a third (or fourth or fifth), all cuteness levels are gone.  You are now considered crazy but expected to have the whole thing under control.  You should now know how to literally juggle three kids, plus a house, and often a partner and a job.  Whether any of this is true (it's probably not), you are no longer cute if you get overwhelmed, no longer adorable if you pick your baby up at the first cry (or conversely, you are not in control if you don't or can't pick your baby up at first cry) and you are no longer forgiven if the mess piles up.

At least that's how it feels from this angle!  But I don't mind, because I realise that I looked at other mums the same way, and probably still do.  I still think first time mums are so sweet and us multiple time mums are just too busy (and old?) to be that cute.  I sort of assume we are all just getting on with it, and we probably are, really.  But I can assure you, as far as the juggling goes, we won't be joining the circus anytime soon.

...unless it's as a side show!

Toy Shelves

I read in a smug parenting book once that toy boxes are bad and you should have toys set up on shelves so children can look at their choices and pick the items they would like to play with.  Supposedly children will then calmly choose their preferred toy instead of emptying the toy box in search of something they want to play with.

All that this has done in our house is mean the kids empty the toy SHELVES instead of the toy BOX and leave ME in a constant state of distress.

Baby Jaguar's Birth Story

Our son, "Baby Jaguar", was born on 11 July 2012, weighing 8lbs 13oz, 3 days past his due date.

Here's how it happened.

I'll start the story from Sunday, which was his due date.

On Sunday, I woke up feeling pretty awful. Really nauseated, tired, and grumpy. I made the huge mistake of going to church. Before I'd even gotten a few feet in the door, I was bombarded with all the classic 'You still not had that baby yet?!' lines, and I was seriously not in the mood for it. I had to put on the bravest face to keep myself from bursting into tears with each comment. I couldn't even count how many people felt it necessary to point out to me and my large belly that I hadn't yet managed to have 'that baby' yet. I mean, geez, it was only my due date THAT DAY! So as soon as church was over, I rushed home and got in bed. I felt sick all day and all evening, and it was a relief to wake up the next morning feeling tons better.

Monday I had a dentist appointment in the afternoon, the kids went to the cinema with their grandparents, and Scott took a half day off. It was nice for Scott to get some time to himself and nice for me to be able to take a little walk to my appointment all on my own. On my way back from the dentist, I decided on a whim to drop into the osteopath just to ask what kind of treatments they do for pregnant women. I was starting to get anxious about going over my due date and was really afraid I'd end up getting induced two weeks later. The osteopath (who was pregnant herself) said she'd be able to fit me in right after her next patient, if I wasn't in a hurry, to do just a general pregnancy treatment to open up and loosen my spine and pelvis. So half an hour later, I was lying on a table getting twisted into all kinds of shapes and getting cracks and pops all up and down my spine and through my pelvis. By the time I was done, I couldn't believe how relaxed and loose I felt. I walked home on air, not because I thought 'Yes! This will put me into labour!' but because I suddenly felt a new optimism about having the baby in plenty of time when my body and my baby were both ready.

Tuesday morning, I arranged for a last minute babysitter (thank you, Grampa Andy!), so I could go to my Aquanatal class. I wasn't totally in the mood for it but decided some time in the water would probably do me good. I worked really hard in the water and felt crampy the rest of the day, but no contractions or anything too exciting resulted. I went to my friend Heather's house that night for our weekly craft night and had one strong contraction while there, but other than that, it was a typical, non-eventful night. I went to bed excited though, as the following morning I had an appointment with the midwife for my first membrane sweep, and because of the cramps, I was hoping the sweep would move things along for me.

Wednesday morning, I woke up at 6.30 with a contraction unlike the others I'd been having. I think I'd had one or two in my sleep because I woke up knowing this one would rise and peak and tail off like a real contraction should. Sure enough, it did. I lay in bed waiting to see if anything else would happen. For the next 45 minutes, I dozed in and out between contractions, roughly 10 minutes apart. Finally I woke Scott up. I told him not to get too excited but that my contractions were starting to seem more real. I then asked him to get up with me and help me clean the rabbit cage, in case this was the real thing! We cleaned the cage quickly, and the contractions by 8am were coming more frequently and closer together, but were very short and quick in duration. I wondered if I was just being too optimistic but decided to phone the midwives at the hospital since I was expected there at 9
anyway to ask what I should do. Because I needed to have blood drawn at that appointment, and if they were to come out to my house they would just have to go back to the hospital to refrigerate the blood, the midwife on the phone suggested I go ahead and come down to the hospital as planned unless things changed. So, at quarter to 9, Scott, the kids and I all loaded into the car to go to my appointment. Part of me wanted to get properly dressed since I was going out in public, but I ended up going in my sweats, which, if you know me, is TOTALLY not something I would normally do. In the car, I did, however, put on my makeup in between contractions.

9am: We got to the hospital, and Scott dropped me off at the front door, because he was going to have to park pretty far away. I got out of the car and started to walk towards the doors when I felt a trickle down my leg. Oh no. I instantly knew my waters had broken. I turned back to the car, but Scott was already driving off. I just stood there, in the car park, my arm outstretched towards the car, silently pleading 'Come back! Come back!' The trickle kept coming down my leg. There was no way I was about to walk into the hospital alone at that point, so I sat down on a bench outside, in the spitting rain, and waited like a poor lost soul for Scott and the kids. It felt like an eternity, but I didn't dare move in case the inevitable gush was about to take place. Finally, Scott and the girls approached, and I hobbled towards them, trying to keep my legs together as I walked. As we walked through the doors, I was sure all eyes were on my wet sweatpants crotch, as the dark trail of water just grew larger down my legs with each step. I burst into tears with the embarrassment. I felt like a crazy person in the elevator, going into hospital in labour and bringing my children with me! I kept saying to everyone, 'It was just supposed to be an appointment!!' Scott phoned his dad to ask him to immediately come up to the hospital and take the kids home, and I rushed into the maternity ward, tears running down my face and amniotic fluid running down my legs. The midwives standing around the desk must've had a silent chuckle to themselves as one said, 'Well, we heard you were having a few contractions!' and ushered me into the first room open.

The midwife helped me get my sweats off, and that's when everything went from slightly humorous to serious business. The waters were completely green. Meconium staining. I panicked. 'Oh no, that's not good, that's not good', I said breathlessly. The midwife was far more calm and assured me that it wasn't necessarily bad. She had me on the bed in seconds with the heart monitor and checked the baby's heartbeat. He was fine, she told me. He wasn't in any distress, but babies post term do sometimes do that.

I was relieved.

Then, however, she said I would really need to go to Paisley to have the baby.

(Paisley is where the bigger maternity hospital is, where any complicated or high risk pregnancies are attended to.)

I, again, started crying.

Of course, I knew she was right, but I just couldn't believe it. After everything, all the waiting, all the preparations, all the positive thinking, being sure that finally, I was going to get the homebirth I have always wanted, I was going to Paisley a third time to have my baby.

Scott's dad arrived and took Fifi and Lolly. An ambulance was called for me, and I gave Scott the roughest list of things to grab from home to take to hospital; obviously I didn't have any kind of hospital bag packed! I was warned by the head midwife that it was likely they would want to augment my labour when I got there (in other words, put me on a Syntocinon drip), but the midwife who rode with me in the ambulance felt I had a good chance of avoiding that since my contractions were getting more regular. I was blue-lighted up to Paisley, which was actually kind of exciting, getting to ride in the ambulance with the sirens and all. While in the ambulance, my contractions were coming more and more frequently, but were short and sharp. I refused any painkillers and just practiced my HypnoBirthing breathing through each one.

10am: At the hospital, I was hooked up to a continuous fetal monitor for about 20 minutes. It was uncomfortable lying on my back, but I was coping with the contractions fine using my breathing. Scott arrived and put on some music for me (R.E.M.), and we got settled in. The midwife did not see any reason to start me on the drip or induce me in any way. What a relief! She did, however, recommend I get an internal fetal monitor hooked up, so I would be less constrained to the bed. I agreed, and it was horrible. I cried in agony as she tried to insert it, all for it not to work anyway. Back to the external monitor I went. At least I was allowed to move around and get in whatever positions I found most comfortable. I was 4cm dilated at this point.

11.15ish: I suggested to Scott he go for his lunch early. I didn't need him then, but I might need him later on. So he left to grab something to eat, and I continued to breathe through my contractions and move around.

11.45ish: Scott returned. He put on my HypnoBirthing CD, because I felt I was getting far enough advanced that I needed to really focus inward. Breathing through contractions was becoming more difficult and taking all my concentration.

12.15: I told him to turn that damn HypnoBirthing CD off, it was annoying the hell out of me. (I heard the midwife comment, 'There goes the HypnoBirthing!' It was funny.) The midwife suggested I try the internal monitor again, but this time suggested I use the gas and air (Entonox) to help with the discomfort. I agreed. I took a few puffs until I could feel myself go light-headed and then I let her try. It was painful but not as bad as the first time. It worked this time, and she took the external monitor off me. I asked if I had dilated any, and she said I was still 4cm but that was not unusual.

I was not pleased with this information.

At this point, I'd spent most of my contractions up on the bed, on all fours, leaning over the headboard. I decided it was time to get on the gas and air. The contractions were starting to come one after the other with very little space in between, and I was starting to feel unable to cope. The gas and air helped a lot, but with no breaks in between contractions with which to regain my composure, I was beginning to feel like this was going to be impossible. Finally, I said to Scott - actually it came out as more of a whine than a statement - 'I don't wanna do this anymore.' He thought I meant the gas and air.

'Don't want to do what anymore?' he asked calmly.

'SHUT UP! I don't want to do THIS anymore!!' I screamed, gesturing towards my body.

In the back of my head, I thought how I was starting to sound like a woman in transition, but at only 4cm, that wasn't possible.

Then with the next contraction or two, I involuntarily started to push.

The midwife asked if I felt pressure in my bottom, and I growled 'YESSSS I WANT TO PUSH.' Scott said softly to me, 'Don't push yet.' I not-so-softly shouted a lovely profanity at him, and he and the midwife both knew at that moment the baby was on his way out. I heard her say to him, 'When she starts to push, press this button.' I nearly panicked - was she leaving the room NOW?? How could she leave the room NOW?! Turns out, the button was to call for the second back-up midwife, but whatever! I thought she'd left the room! And seeing as I was still draped around the head of the bed with my bum in the air, slobbering all over the gas and air mouthpiece as I sucked on it for dear life, I had no way of knowing she was actually standing right at the end of the bed, with gloves on, guiding an already crowning head out of my nether regions. In moments, I felt the head emerge and knew that with the next contraction, out would fly a baby. Not so. With the next couple of contractions, I had to push and push and push, and I suddenly thought, 'Oh no, that wasn't the head before, THIS is the head! Oh I have so much longer to go!' Turns out, the midwife was holding the body back, turning it around, getting the shoulders positioned right, and so forth, and thanks to her, when the body did come out, I didn't tear! So finally, at

1pm: on the dot, with one last wonderful, mostly involuntary but with a bit of intended pushing, my son was finally born. Scott helped me turn around and sit on the bed.

'Nice to see your face again!' the midwife joked.

Oh yeah, I guess she'd really seen nothing by my bum for the last three hours or so.

Jaguar was whisked away to have his airwaves cleared to keep him from breathing in any of the meconium and then was offered to me to hold. At this point though, I was so exhausted and somewhat shell-shocked that I didn't think I could hold him at all. So he went to his daddy first, while I delivered the placenta. After that, I finally took the chance to hold my new son in my arms for the first time. It was.... surreal isn't the right word. It was difficult. I was so shaky and exhausted that I could barely hold him without dropping him! Back to Scott he went!

The midwife who had been attending me the whole time was fantastic. I genuinely barely ever noticed she was there. She left me and Scott alone most of the time while she stood back and observed. Just the way it should be! She left us at that point to make us some tea and toast and let us get to know our baby. After she left, I fed Jaguar for the first time, and he was a champion breastfeeder. I got to take a bath, put on some fresh clothes, and then go up to my room to relax with my husband and our new baby.



From the time my waters broke to delivery was exactly four hours.

Jaguar was not born at home as planned, but I am so happy he was born the way he was - I started labour all on my own, with no induction, it was all natural (minus the monitors!), I needed no drugs (except 45 minutes on gas and air!), and I delivered him on all fours, not on my back! And in the end, I'm glad my waters broke at the hospital instead of at my house. If I'd seen that meconium at home, I would have been scared to death that my baby was dying. I'm so glad I was in the hospital with the midwives who were able to tell me immediately that his heart rate was fine and there was no distress. Plus, imagine what would've happened to my lovely cream carpet, if I'd been at home when it happened....

And no, I won't be going for a fourth to finally get my homebirth. I'm admitting defeat in that respect. :) But I have three gorgeous, wonderful children to show for it, and frankly, I have no desire to attempt another nine months of pregnancy followed by another unpredictable labour... pretty much ever again.

Peace out, fertility!

But welcome home, my darling, adorable son. I love you more than I knew was possible!




Fifi holding her baby brother.


Lolly holding her baby brother.

One Day Left...

This whole 'due date' thing is really rather cruel. You go one day from not-yet-due-so-quit-complaining to IT'S YOUR DUE DATE to only one day later over-due-and-lets-start-considering-induction.

Ohhh it's so not good for the psyche.

It would be so much better if we could just talk in terms of 'due months'. That's sort of how I've been looking at it anyway. From 37 weeks, I considered myself full term and would stay full term until 42 weeks. That's a 5 week window in which to have a baby. That feels so much more doable. But now that I'm about to cross over the medical fine line of over-due, I'm starting to feel a bit stressed. Sure I have two weeks left in which I could go into labour, but the weeks pass so fast and what if...?

Scott will want to knock me over the head for not being 'positive' again, but I'm starting to get anxious. This is my last baby. It is my third and last chance to have a homebirth. My two other births could not be at home for differing reasons, but there is no reason this time that my birth can't be at home. Unless this body of mine just can't get with the program. It's got two weeks left to get this thing figured out. Sure, most people DO go over 40 weeks. And there is probably some study to be done out there about some women needing slightly longer to gestate than others. After all, we are all individuals, and the one-size-fits-all medical model just doesn't work for every individual. But still...

If you've been keeping up with me during this, you'll know I've been experiencing prodromal labour for weeks. Well this week, all activity has more or less ceased. I've had the odd contraction here and there but nothing like what I was experiencing. In most ways, this is a huge relief. No more false alarms. A break from constant physical activity and heightened awareness of my body. The hope that when things do start back up, they'll be the real thing. But it also brings with it concern that nothing is going to happen now before I end up facing The Big Decision: Induction or Section? Two weeks and one day from now, and that will be the decision before me.

One of my 'birthing affirmations' from HypnoBirthing says something like 'If the day for your baby goes by, you feel more relaxed, knowing your baby and your body are working together to ensure your baby will come at the right time.' I've been trying and trying to focus in on that one. I want to believe it. I really want to internalise it. I want to rid myself of all anxiety related to when this baby will be born. It's just that I have too much desire for this one last birth to be done RIGHT, to heal all the buried, subconscious grief of the other two births, and to finish my childbirthing years with perfect harmony, that I'm now reaching a stage of panic in case it doesn't happen.

I don't want to be negative. I don't want to be anxious. I want to be calm, positive, cheerful, patient and confident. I want to trust God. I want to trust my body.

I want to go back to bed for an hour and start this morning over again. Preferably with an intense contraction, but I'd settle for just a positive mental attitude.

G'day!

Prodromal Labour

I was inspired by this post to write my own version of how prodromal labour has treated me this time around.

I'll need to look for my Lolly birth story to see if I wrote much about the prodromal labour I had with her, and if I can find it, I'll post it here too. *UPDATE: Her birth story is here.

For many people, labour just happens, and that's that. Some people get Braxton-Hicks contractions and mistake it for labour, of course. However, it seems that there are also a lot of people (like me) who get sensations much more intense than typical Braxton-Hicks, and for some people (like me) these more intense contractions can last for days to weeks before active labour. We're the people who get sent home from hospital, being told it was a 'false alarm' or it's 'just Braxton-Hicks', and it's very emotionally draining and disappointing. Because I went through this with Lolly, I've been fairly stoic about it this time around, but a lot more relaxed as this time I don't have to worry about the wasted trips to the hospital, since I'm going to be giving birth at home. However, I'm so unexpectant that I haven't phoned the midwives except once to make sure my birthing kit would arrive nice and early, and never to say that *maybe* I could be in labour. I'd actually not be surprised if I ended up refusing to call the midwife until I suddenly get that unmistakeable urge to push, when finally I'd know this really is the *real thing*!

So here is how my past few weeks have gone:

36 Weeks
I started having irregular but pretty much daily Braxton-Hicks contractions. Nothing big, nothing scary, just some period-like cramping a few times a day. Baby's head was not engaged but just floating at the brim of my pelvis. I started my raspberry leaf tea this week, just one cup a day. However, to keep from the contractions getting any stronger (and to avoid preterm labour), I spent a lot of time in baths and had a glass of wine one night when the tightenings got me a little worried.

37 Weeks
I started having more intense tightenings but still nothing remotely painful, just more period-like cramping, but more often and closer together. Nothing regular, just several per hour then nothing for a while, then more again. I phoned the hospital to make sure that my homebirth kit was definitely going to arrive early that week just in case things picked up. My homebirth kit arrived on Tuesday. To keep things moving along, I spent a lot of time on the birthing ball. I also started taking raspberry leaf capsules along with my tea, one to two capsules a day and one cup of tea. Nothing changed much the rest of the week, just the same old BH contractions, until Friday night. The tightenings started getting much more intense, and I began to feel like calling them Braxton-Hicks wasn't correct anymore! However, the baby's head was still not engaged. I had a bit of what I thought might be bloody show and went on a mad cleaning spree, expecting the baby to come that night. The next morning, a bit concerned that the blood maybe wasn't show but something more dramatic, I phoned the midwife and was referred up to the hospital. There, it was more or less confirmed that it was nothing to worry about, and I was sent home with a referral to see my consultant the next week. To keep from going into active labour before my consultant appointment on the following Wednesday, I reverted back to baths and holding back on doing too much exercise.

38 Weeks
Contractions/cramping/tightenings had become a daily, regular occurrence, usually commencing midday to mid-afternoon and not stopping until I finally went to bed at night, whatever time that might be. On Monday night, I had my first acupuncture session to 'ripen the cervix'. I kept taking my raspberry leaf capsules and tea. I had my meeting with the consultant on Wednesday and was given the okay to continue with homebirth plans. The baby's head had, by that point, however, descended into the pelvis and was 4/5ths palpable (which means 4/5ths of it could be felt - or another way of looking at it, the head was 1/5th engaged.) This made me feel that at least the tightenings (a word I prefer over contractions or even over the HypnoBirthing word 'surges') were doing something, nudging the baby downward. At 38 weeks + 4 days, I had my second acupuncture session. The next day (Friday), I went out to a show at the local theatre and hung out in the bar after for several hours, standing the whole time in heels. The tightenings started coming every couple of minutes, very intense, some hard to concentrate through or stand through, and I ended up leaning against the bar tables every couple of minutes to get through the tightenings. They were so regular and so strong that I became almost convinced that the real thing was due to happen in the next couple of days, if not that night. I came home, tried to get some rest, was awoken a few times by the contractions, but eventually fell asleep and woke up the next morning with nothing.

39 Weeks
On Sunday, at 39 weeks exactly, I started a bit of at-home aromatherapy. I put rose oil in my bath and started burning jasmine oil in my oil burner. I am also still taking a couple of raspberry leaf capsules and more or less one cup of tea a day. That leads me to where I am now. For the next couple of days after the night at the theatre, I experienced very little uterine activity, apart from occasional tightenings and the old Braxton-Hicks cramps. Until today (Monday), when they came back on, strong, intense and every half hour or so. The baby feels a bit lower, but I won't be able to confirm that until Wednesday when I see my midwife again for my weekly antenatal check. The contractions today continue, but I have no real hopes of going into labour any time soon. I've had bursts of energy where I've gone on cleaning binges, followed by bouts of listlessness where I have no energy to do anything at all. Today has been a relaxing yet productive day, and despite the intensity of the contractions, I fully expect to go to bed tonight and for them to peter out completely, as per usual. I hope on Wednesday, I'll be told the baby has descended more, which will give me a new feeling of confidence that all these contractions are STILL working the baby down. After all, the word on the street is that while, yes, prodromal labour is annoying and a total bitch, it can make the final stages of labour run very smoothly and efficiently because of how toned the uterus has become. I hope that this is true.

The baby is also still posterior, which could have much to do with why everything is progressing so slowly, but nothing I do seems to make him turn. So I'm trying not to obsess too much over his position and just do all that I can to keep the right posture, and do all that I know to do to help the contractions along. I still practice my HypnoBirthing daily, and have been focusing more on the Birth Affirmations than on the actual hypnosis, to help keep my thoughts positive despite the slow-going pace of all these contractions.

And on that note, I'm off to make another cup of raspberry leaf tea and put some more jasmine in my oil burner!