These shots were taken a couple of weeks ago, by a dear friend. xxoo
My Munchkins
Saturday, April 30, 2011
May I just crawl into a hole for a while?
I don't feel comfortable writing this on Facebook (never know who you're going to offend these days!) but I just have this intense desire to say this one thing...
The next person who tells me that I'm barely showing is going to be thumped in the nose.
I'm 36 weeks pregnant, and am feeling every inch of it. My body aches. My hips hurt. I can't roll over in bed without having to do a 10-point turn. I have a little bottom sticking into my ribs, and a head hanging between my knees. I'm tired. I'm sore. I'm hormonal. And I'm just absolutely SOO over people telling me how "tiny" I am, as though my body isn't functioning properly. As though I haven't put the hard yards in. As though a pregnancy isn't worth celebrating until you're absolutely humongeous. (Which I never get to, because my 9lb babies are tucked so neatly inside of me.)
So next time you see a heavily pregnant woman, tell her she looks lovely. Tell her that pregnancy obviously agrees with her. Tell her that you're so excited to meet her baby (if you know her, that is...). Shower her with compliments because goodness me, she's worked so hard to get to this point, and if ever a woman needs pampering, it's then.
*cry*
The next person who tells me that I'm barely showing is going to be thumped in the nose.
I'm 36 weeks pregnant, and am feeling every inch of it. My body aches. My hips hurt. I can't roll over in bed without having to do a 10-point turn. I have a little bottom sticking into my ribs, and a head hanging between my knees. I'm tired. I'm sore. I'm hormonal. And I'm just absolutely SOO over people telling me how "tiny" I am, as though my body isn't functioning properly. As though I haven't put the hard yards in. As though a pregnancy isn't worth celebrating until you're absolutely humongeous. (Which I never get to, because my 9lb babies are tucked so neatly inside of me.)
So next time you see a heavily pregnant woman, tell her she looks lovely. Tell her that pregnancy obviously agrees with her. Tell her that you're so excited to meet her baby (if you know her, that is...). Shower her with compliments because goodness me, she's worked so hard to get to this point, and if ever a woman needs pampering, it's then.
*cry*
Friday, April 15, 2011
Olivia's birth continued...
I just want to say, before I continue, that I don't really enjoy sharing what happened during these hospital births. I wish I could say that I had great experiences in the hospital, but in all honesty, I didn't. That doesn't mean to say that you won't. It all comes down to educating yourself on your birthing options, the risks involved with the medications, what your rights are as a labouring woman in their hands, and above all, your faith in your body and the way it works, alongside your faith in the Creator of your body. God designed us women to give birth naturally... it can be done. It can. And doing it is the most wonderful and fulfilling experience ever.
But anyway, back to Livvy's birth...
So we arrived at the hospital late on the Saturday night, after having 5 minute apart contractions for the past few hours. The lovely midwife who greeted us at the door was filling up the pool for me when we arrived. She was fretting because she had no idea what temperature to have the pool at (which is incredible, and made me wonder how many people actually use the pool!) (and by the way... it doesn't matter too much what temperature the pool is at during labour, as long as it's not too hot as to raise your temperature much. But for birthing, it's very important to have the water at 37degrees, so that there's no change in temp for baby coming out.). I had James with me, along with my mum, little sister, older sister and her best friend (they were both training to be nurses, and were really interested in seeing how the nurses and midwives acted). We were a merry party! :-D I walked the hallways for a little while, waiting for the pool to be ready. When we got into my room, I jumped into one of the hospital gowns and straight into the water. Looking back now, I shouldn't have got it in the water so early, as it can slow down if you're not in real active labour yet.
I spent the next little while labouring in the pool. The contractions felt really intense to me at the time, and I was vomiting alot. Finally Darryl (my midwife's backup. Remember, my midwife took the night off) came in and asked to examine me. I got out of the pool soaking wet and pulled aside the gown at the belly for her to do the heart-rate check. (I was still feeling quite modest, and there were other doctors floating in and out...). I remember her roughly pulling my gown off me completely and saying "I'd rather do it this way!". I have never felt so humiliated in my life. :-( It makes me so sad that I didn't have the guts to stand up for myself, and neither did any of my support people. She got me up on the bed to examine me, and said (quite disgustedly) "Oh, you're only 3 centimeters!!". Sigh. After she'd taken my blood pressure, my sister (Kate, the nurse in training) asked her what the result was. Kate asked very politely, and we were shocked to hear Darryl say "She's *whatever it was*, if it makes any difference to you!!". She was so rude, and clearly did not want to be there. She then said that I'm barely in labour, and she'll come back in four hours to check on me. (I don't believe she actually read my records before she started caring for me, as everyone knows a woman (especially a woman who's been in labour before) can dilate very very quickly once she's established. As it was, I had given birth and was tucked up into bed before those four hours were up!) Once she left the room, I got back into the pool and continued my labour.
Knowing what I now know, there's no doubt in my mind that the tension between the midwives and us was causing my labour to slow down. Did you know that a woman's cervix can literally close again, after dilating? It happens when she's feeling threatened and unsafe. I was definately feeling those things at that time, and I'm sure that's what contributed to such a painful first stage.
Darryl came back into the room after some time, and asked me to get out of the pool for the duration of the labour. We asked her why, and she said that she couldn't guarantee the life of my baby if I stayed in the water. Note that my blood pressure was fine, temperature was fine, waters were intact, baby heartrate was perfect, everything was fine. She'd just decided that she wanted me out.
I declined.
(hello backbone! This is the first time I'd ever said "no" to a midwife!)
I said that if I was passing all the "tests" then I'd rather stay in the water. So she came back with a huge stack of papers for me to read and sign in order to stay in the water. Unbelievable! I was having intense contractions, and almost nonstop vomiting... there was no way I was able to concentrate on silly papers! It's funny to look back on, but honestly, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, it was so tense in that room. :-(
My sister Kate then piped up. Kate had been in nursing training for a couple of years now, and had actually received the training that if you want a mother to do something then all you have to do is threaten the life of her child, and she will do "anything". So Kate told Darryl that what she was saying was a load of balony, and just a scare tactic (big applause for Katie please!!) I started to relax more about this point, and tune out what was going on. I knew that my big sis would take care of it for me, hehe.
Darryl started getting really really nasty to us, so we ended up requesting her to not come back into the room.
A while later our new midwife came in, Jenny. Things started to go more smoothly after that, and I began to dilate very quickly. I chose to get out of the pool (my own choice) and laboured the rest of the time kneeling upright on the bed with my head resting on the raised headboard. I felt the need for cold (looking back, I think this was to try and "numb" the stress that I'd been under in Darryls care) and my family spent their time soaking towels in ice and draping them across my back. :-) I don't remember much about the rest of the labour, only that it was very painful, and I "lost" it several times. I ended up punching poor Jenny in the nose, and then trying to name the baby after her when she realised that my gas battle was actually empty. Yes, I did have the gas again in this labour, and to be honest, with the rough beginnings and maximum stress, it was a wonderful way to escape reality for a while. During transition, I started singing. James and I have tried to remember what I sang, but to no avail. It was something like "He's got the whole world in His hands", and I'm pretty sure I sounded drunk (not that I'd know what I sound like drunk). My words were pretty slurred, and my mind was spinning. This is what natural painkillers are. When a woman is left to labour uninhibited, her body will flood with these natural hormones that relax her and get her ready for the pushing out stage! I love transition. I'd rather God's painkillers over synthetic ones any day!!
Sooo... on the bed I went, onto my back (duh. duh. duh.) and proceeded to push the little darling out. I screamed out with the first push, due to the intensity of it, but was quickly told to be quiet from the midwife. Hah! If a woman feels like screaming, let her! It wasn't a high-pitched scared scream, but more like a warrior cry. I was a bit pipped that I couldn't make any noise, but (being the good little lass that I was...) I shut up, and did what I was told. :-) Livvy was born within about 15 minutes, and laid on my chest. Bliss!! 7lb 2oz of pure bliss. :-) She was such a cutie! I was given the jab for the placenta (the things that are done routinely and just accepted as "best" amaze me!), and my family was quickly shuffled out of the door, as it was the early hours of the morning.
I felt like I'd just given birth and them Bam, everyone was gone and I was left perched on this skinny hospital bed with orders to feed Livvy-loo. I got the shakes (due to the placenta jab, I believe) and my body went into a little bit of shock. I didn't want to feed her, I wanted to sleep! She wasn't much interested in feeding either. Once we were tucked up into bed, I was able to just gaze at her little face and fall in love. And fall in love I did! Head over heels!!
I hated my hospital stay, as I was sharing a room with a lady who's baby was in NICU. She spent her hours crying, and entertaining her whanau (her huuuuge whanau). Sigh. She would walk past our curtained off little corner, and literally open the curtains and stare at us (I'd pretend to be sleeping). It was so awful, and I felt soo guilty for having a baby with no problems.
But I couldn't go home. It was so dreadful! Apparently Livvy had some meconium in the waters when my midwife broke them just before transition (if she'd left nature to do it's thing, they would have broken soon anyway. My waters always break with the first push.) It wasn't much meconium, but the hospital policy was that babies had to stay in the hospital for 48 hours if they had that "problem", for observing. I was all packed and ready to go when my first midwife stopped me and said I couldn't go. I should have put my foot down and done what I felt was right, but for the last time, I did what they wanted me to do.
Two days later, I got to go home and enjoy my sweet little bundle in peace. It was wonderful!!
Livvy's birth was a turning point for me. It showed me that midwives can just "play" you and make you do things for their convenience (not all midwives do this, by the way. I'm just saying that when you're in the hospital setting, you are putting yourself in their hands and their policies.). They don't always know what's best for your body and your baby. I started educating myself after Livvy's birth, because I knew that I couldn't let what happened, both during the pregnancy (with my first midwife's disinterest in me) and during the labour (the verbal abuse), happen again.
This birth empowered me to change the way I approached my pregnancies and my babies births. It taught me that somehow, somewhere, there has to be a more peaceful way to birth. Christian's birth is testimony to this, and I can't wait to share with you about God's blessings on it!!
But anyway, back to Livvy's birth...
So we arrived at the hospital late on the Saturday night, after having 5 minute apart contractions for the past few hours. The lovely midwife who greeted us at the door was filling up the pool for me when we arrived. She was fretting because she had no idea what temperature to have the pool at (which is incredible, and made me wonder how many people actually use the pool!) (and by the way... it doesn't matter too much what temperature the pool is at during labour, as long as it's not too hot as to raise your temperature much. But for birthing, it's very important to have the water at 37degrees, so that there's no change in temp for baby coming out.). I had James with me, along with my mum, little sister, older sister and her best friend (they were both training to be nurses, and were really interested in seeing how the nurses and midwives acted). We were a merry party! :-D I walked the hallways for a little while, waiting for the pool to be ready. When we got into my room, I jumped into one of the hospital gowns and straight into the water. Looking back now, I shouldn't have got it in the water so early, as it can slow down if you're not in real active labour yet.
I spent the next little while labouring in the pool. The contractions felt really intense to me at the time, and I was vomiting alot. Finally Darryl (my midwife's backup. Remember, my midwife took the night off) came in and asked to examine me. I got out of the pool soaking wet and pulled aside the gown at the belly for her to do the heart-rate check. (I was still feeling quite modest, and there were other doctors floating in and out...). I remember her roughly pulling my gown off me completely and saying "I'd rather do it this way!". I have never felt so humiliated in my life. :-( It makes me so sad that I didn't have the guts to stand up for myself, and neither did any of my support people. She got me up on the bed to examine me, and said (quite disgustedly) "Oh, you're only 3 centimeters!!". Sigh. After she'd taken my blood pressure, my sister (Kate, the nurse in training) asked her what the result was. Kate asked very politely, and we were shocked to hear Darryl say "She's *whatever it was*, if it makes any difference to you!!". She was so rude, and clearly did not want to be there. She then said that I'm barely in labour, and she'll come back in four hours to check on me. (I don't believe she actually read my records before she started caring for me, as everyone knows a woman (especially a woman who's been in labour before) can dilate very very quickly once she's established. As it was, I had given birth and was tucked up into bed before those four hours were up!) Once she left the room, I got back into the pool and continued my labour.
Knowing what I now know, there's no doubt in my mind that the tension between the midwives and us was causing my labour to slow down. Did you know that a woman's cervix can literally close again, after dilating? It happens when she's feeling threatened and unsafe. I was definately feeling those things at that time, and I'm sure that's what contributed to such a painful first stage.
Darryl came back into the room after some time, and asked me to get out of the pool for the duration of the labour. We asked her why, and she said that she couldn't guarantee the life of my baby if I stayed in the water. Note that my blood pressure was fine, temperature was fine, waters were intact, baby heartrate was perfect, everything was fine. She'd just decided that she wanted me out.
I declined.
(hello backbone! This is the first time I'd ever said "no" to a midwife!)
I said that if I was passing all the "tests" then I'd rather stay in the water. So she came back with a huge stack of papers for me to read and sign in order to stay in the water. Unbelievable! I was having intense contractions, and almost nonstop vomiting... there was no way I was able to concentrate on silly papers! It's funny to look back on, but honestly, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, it was so tense in that room. :-(
My sister Kate then piped up. Kate had been in nursing training for a couple of years now, and had actually received the training that if you want a mother to do something then all you have to do is threaten the life of her child, and she will do "anything". So Kate told Darryl that what she was saying was a load of balony, and just a scare tactic (big applause for Katie please!!) I started to relax more about this point, and tune out what was going on. I knew that my big sis would take care of it for me, hehe.
Darryl started getting really really nasty to us, so we ended up requesting her to not come back into the room.
A while later our new midwife came in, Jenny. Things started to go more smoothly after that, and I began to dilate very quickly. I chose to get out of the pool (my own choice) and laboured the rest of the time kneeling upright on the bed with my head resting on the raised headboard. I felt the need for cold (looking back, I think this was to try and "numb" the stress that I'd been under in Darryls care) and my family spent their time soaking towels in ice and draping them across my back. :-) I don't remember much about the rest of the labour, only that it was very painful, and I "lost" it several times. I ended up punching poor Jenny in the nose, and then trying to name the baby after her when she realised that my gas battle was actually empty. Yes, I did have the gas again in this labour, and to be honest, with the rough beginnings and maximum stress, it was a wonderful way to escape reality for a while. During transition, I started singing. James and I have tried to remember what I sang, but to no avail. It was something like "He's got the whole world in His hands", and I'm pretty sure I sounded drunk (not that I'd know what I sound like drunk). My words were pretty slurred, and my mind was spinning. This is what natural painkillers are. When a woman is left to labour uninhibited, her body will flood with these natural hormones that relax her and get her ready for the pushing out stage! I love transition. I'd rather God's painkillers over synthetic ones any day!!
Sooo... on the bed I went, onto my back (duh. duh. duh.) and proceeded to push the little darling out. I screamed out with the first push, due to the intensity of it, but was quickly told to be quiet from the midwife. Hah! If a woman feels like screaming, let her! It wasn't a high-pitched scared scream, but more like a warrior cry. I was a bit pipped that I couldn't make any noise, but (being the good little lass that I was...) I shut up, and did what I was told. :-) Livvy was born within about 15 minutes, and laid on my chest. Bliss!! 7lb 2oz of pure bliss. :-) She was such a cutie! I was given the jab for the placenta (the things that are done routinely and just accepted as "best" amaze me!), and my family was quickly shuffled out of the door, as it was the early hours of the morning.
I felt like I'd just given birth and them Bam, everyone was gone and I was left perched on this skinny hospital bed with orders to feed Livvy-loo. I got the shakes (due to the placenta jab, I believe) and my body went into a little bit of shock. I didn't want to feed her, I wanted to sleep! She wasn't much interested in feeding either. Once we were tucked up into bed, I was able to just gaze at her little face and fall in love. And fall in love I did! Head over heels!!
I hated my hospital stay, as I was sharing a room with a lady who's baby was in NICU. She spent her hours crying, and entertaining her whanau (her huuuuge whanau). Sigh. She would walk past our curtained off little corner, and literally open the curtains and stare at us (I'd pretend to be sleeping). It was so awful, and I felt soo guilty for having a baby with no problems.
But I couldn't go home. It was so dreadful! Apparently Livvy had some meconium in the waters when my midwife broke them just before transition (if she'd left nature to do it's thing, they would have broken soon anyway. My waters always break with the first push.) It wasn't much meconium, but the hospital policy was that babies had to stay in the hospital for 48 hours if they had that "problem", for observing. I was all packed and ready to go when my first midwife stopped me and said I couldn't go. I should have put my foot down and done what I felt was right, but for the last time, I did what they wanted me to do.
Two days later, I got to go home and enjoy my sweet little bundle in peace. It was wonderful!!
Livvy's birth was a turning point for me. It showed me that midwives can just "play" you and make you do things for their convenience (not all midwives do this, by the way. I'm just saying that when you're in the hospital setting, you are putting yourself in their hands and their policies.). They don't always know what's best for your body and your baby. I started educating myself after Livvy's birth, because I knew that I couldn't let what happened, both during the pregnancy (with my first midwife's disinterest in me) and during the labour (the verbal abuse), happen again.
This birth empowered me to change the way I approached my pregnancies and my babies births. It taught me that somehow, somewhere, there has to be a more peaceful way to birth. Christian's birth is testimony to this, and I can't wait to share with you about God's blessings on it!!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
What it's really all about...
Sometimes I feel like the worst Mummy in the world. I get cranky at the children, I stress out when they make simple mistakes, I sit them down in front of the tv because I simply "can't cope"...I just seem to do it all wrong.
And then... somehow God slips in a great time that we have together, and it reminds me of what it's all about. Words can't explain it, so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves...
And then... somehow God slips in a great time that we have together, and it reminds me of what it's all about. Words can't explain it, so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves...
It's the simple things in life that bring us true joy. It's walking hand in hand with my baby girl through the gardens. It's admiring my son's "craftmanship"with his pocketknife on the trees. It's watching my oldest daughter make sure that Rachie doesn't miss out on seeing something. It's delighting in seeing Christian grow more courageous as he discovers nature.
It's life. Pure and simple life. And God gave it to us to enjoy and give Him the glory for all the marvellous things He has done for us! What a kind and glorious Lord we serve!!
Monday, April 11, 2011
Wow
Ok, so the following post is featuring a clip of a breech birth. It's so incredibly amazing that I couldn't but share it with you all. If you don't fancy watching new life emerging, then obviously don't click on it. ;-) But seriously, it would do you good to watch it! These days breech babies are automatically a C-Section, in the hospitals. Unless, you fight for it. And I'm not sure if you'll get a natural birth, even if you do fight for it. I think they're scared of breech babies, but there's a quote I've heard going around recently... "Breech is just a variation of normal". And it's true! See that video? The midwives didn't even have to touch the baby. She was born naturally, in the hands and knees position, which I've heard is the safest position to deliver a breech bubby. It's just education, guys, not a need to panic. :-)
Enjoy! I sure did. :-)
Enjoy! I sure did. :-)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Olivia... the day my little lady entered our lives. :-)
My pregnancy with Livvy was interesting, to say the least. When I was about 3 months pregnant, we moved cities and back closer to where my family lives. Life was rather oppressive in the place where we were, so it was a much needed move, and made for a very happy Mummy. We (meaning Jimmy and I) got involved in the Playcenter in our area, and really just started enjoying life. I loved the house we moved in to, and we had such a blast travelling around the city on buses and going on little outings. My health was great in this pregnancy, I walked long distances every day, and I was feeling very excited to have another child join our family. James (my husband) worked long hours, so most the time it was just Jimmy and I hanging out. We grew pretty close, and our bond got stronger.
I joined up with a certain midwife on the recommendation of my sister-in-law. This is where I learned an important lesson... never pick a health care provider based on how well they got along with someone else. Everyone is different, and you have every right to find someone who you like. I didn't get along with this certain midwife, but because I was already about 4 months along, there weren't many midwives left with vacancies. Sigh. So I stuck with her, pretty convinced that my expectations were too high and it was my fault we weren't "meshing" anyway (obviously, my self-confidence was at an all-time low). I would have to catch the bus with Jimmy (I didn't have my car license at the time) and the trip to the midwife clinic would take approx 2 hours just to get there, with lots of changing of buses. Not much fun. :-) Especially when the midwife would merely take my blood pressure, measure my fundal height, and send me on my "merry" way. I do believe the visits would last approx 8 minutes. I remember feeling confused about this, as with Jimmy's pregnancy not only would the midwife come to my house, but she'd stay for almost an hour every time. I wondered how this new midwife could possibly give me the care I needed without even hardly knowing my name. This was the beginning of my starting to doubt whether the medical system was really the best way to go. But I was uneducated, and had been trained to be a "good girl". So I went to my visits, was highly unsatisfied with my care, and never let on.
When I was about 36 weeks pregnant, my midwife went through a list with me and ticked the boxes for my "birth plan". She asked me at the end if I had any questions, so I asked her if I was allowed to birth in the pool at the hospital. She flatly said "no" and that she prefers to birth on land. I wish I had said "that's wonderful...for you, but I'd prefer to birth in the water!" But no. I meekly said "ok", and left very very disappointed.
At about 38 weeks pregnant, I woke up to some terrible back contractions. I immediately got down on my hand and knees to try and lessen the pressure on my back. The contractions were coming about every 7 minutes, and I was vomiting through them. Poor little Jimmy woke up, so I ended up sitting on the couch in the lounge, holding Jimmy on my lap, and leaning to the side to vomit into a bucket on the ground. I rang James, who was working night-shift at the Service Station, and once he'd arranged someone to take his shift, he came home. I'd texted my midwife already, at this point, but hadn't heard back from her. So we jumped in the car and went to my Mum and Dad's house, which is just around the corner to the hospital. Contractions had slowed down by the time we got there (precisely why a mother should be allowed to labour in a quiet and private enviroment... the adrenaline rush from moving can stall/halt contractions), so I spent the rest of the night walking around and around the block with Mum and my sister, trying to make them happen again. They didn't.
And I never heard from my midwife either.
I had an antenatel appointment that day. When I asked the midwife if she got my texts, she replied that she always turns her phone off at nighttime. Why she never felt the need to tell me this, I don't know. And why she does it, I don't know. Completely clueless. I was pretty angry about that. :-) She also made the offhand comment "There's no reason you should go into labour early anyway". So that was that. She didn't believe me, and dismissed my feelings completely. Un.Believable.
So I went home, feeling like an idiot and like I couldn't trust my body to do what it needed to do. Looking back now, after 4 births, I always have two weeks of pre-labour contractions before I go into established labour. But I didn't know this then, so had no clue what was going on.
A week after this, I developed the worst case of mouth ulcers e.v.e.r. They were everywhere, including all down my throat. I couldn't talk, swallow, drink, or eat. I ended up getting severely dehydrated, and after being forced to go to the doctor (I hate doctors, hehe), he sent me to the hospital. They admitted me, and put me on an IV to get fluids into me, suspecting me of having tonsilitus (dumb doctors. :-) ) So there I was. Almost at my "due date", and stuck in hospital. Wasn't great fun, but oh well. It was good to get the fluids into me. :-)
The morning before my "due date" I woke up with an upset tummy, and mild contractions... and yes, I was still in the hospital. My midwife came in to see me, but really it was to tell me that she was taking a couple of days off, so I was going to end up with her back-up anyway! Darryl. Dear sweet Darryl (sarcasm much here. ;-) ) She confirmed that I was in early labour (because obviously I couldn't make that diagnosis on my own), and told me that she'd see me in a couple of days, once she came back. Sigh. I asked to leave the hospital early that afternoon, as I really didn't want to do early labour in the hospital. I went back to Mum and Dad's house, and immediately the contractions picked up a notch. By about 6pm, I was vomiting with the contractions. They were about 5 minutes apart, at the time, and quite strong. James turned up, and we laboured there for a few more hours. At about 9 pm we decided it was time to head to the hospital. After ringing Darryl (who was already at the hospital with another labouring woman), we jumped into the car and headed in. A lovely nurse/midwife greeted us, and had saved me the room with the birthing pool. How nice was that!! Unfortunately she was heading off duty, but it was awesome seeing her friendly face. :-) ...
To be continued. :-)
I joined up with a certain midwife on the recommendation of my sister-in-law. This is where I learned an important lesson... never pick a health care provider based on how well they got along with someone else. Everyone is different, and you have every right to find someone who you like. I didn't get along with this certain midwife, but because I was already about 4 months along, there weren't many midwives left with vacancies. Sigh. So I stuck with her, pretty convinced that my expectations were too high and it was my fault we weren't "meshing" anyway (obviously, my self-confidence was at an all-time low). I would have to catch the bus with Jimmy (I didn't have my car license at the time) and the trip to the midwife clinic would take approx 2 hours just to get there, with lots of changing of buses. Not much fun. :-) Especially when the midwife would merely take my blood pressure, measure my fundal height, and send me on my "merry" way. I do believe the visits would last approx 8 minutes. I remember feeling confused about this, as with Jimmy's pregnancy not only would the midwife come to my house, but she'd stay for almost an hour every time. I wondered how this new midwife could possibly give me the care I needed without even hardly knowing my name. This was the beginning of my starting to doubt whether the medical system was really the best way to go. But I was uneducated, and had been trained to be a "good girl". So I went to my visits, was highly unsatisfied with my care, and never let on.
When I was about 36 weeks pregnant, my midwife went through a list with me and ticked the boxes for my "birth plan". She asked me at the end if I had any questions, so I asked her if I was allowed to birth in the pool at the hospital. She flatly said "no" and that she prefers to birth on land. I wish I had said "that's wonderful...for you, but I'd prefer to birth in the water!" But no. I meekly said "ok", and left very very disappointed.
At about 38 weeks pregnant, I woke up to some terrible back contractions. I immediately got down on my hand and knees to try and lessen the pressure on my back. The contractions were coming about every 7 minutes, and I was vomiting through them. Poor little Jimmy woke up, so I ended up sitting on the couch in the lounge, holding Jimmy on my lap, and leaning to the side to vomit into a bucket on the ground. I rang James, who was working night-shift at the Service Station, and once he'd arranged someone to take his shift, he came home. I'd texted my midwife already, at this point, but hadn't heard back from her. So we jumped in the car and went to my Mum and Dad's house, which is just around the corner to the hospital. Contractions had slowed down by the time we got there (precisely why a mother should be allowed to labour in a quiet and private enviroment... the adrenaline rush from moving can stall/halt contractions), so I spent the rest of the night walking around and around the block with Mum and my sister, trying to make them happen again. They didn't.
And I never heard from my midwife either.
I had an antenatel appointment that day. When I asked the midwife if she got my texts, she replied that she always turns her phone off at nighttime. Why she never felt the need to tell me this, I don't know. And why she does it, I don't know. Completely clueless. I was pretty angry about that. :-) She also made the offhand comment "There's no reason you should go into labour early anyway". So that was that. She didn't believe me, and dismissed my feelings completely. Un.Believable.
So I went home, feeling like an idiot and like I couldn't trust my body to do what it needed to do. Looking back now, after 4 births, I always have two weeks of pre-labour contractions before I go into established labour. But I didn't know this then, so had no clue what was going on.
A week after this, I developed the worst case of mouth ulcers e.v.e.r. They were everywhere, including all down my throat. I couldn't talk, swallow, drink, or eat. I ended up getting severely dehydrated, and after being forced to go to the doctor (I hate doctors, hehe), he sent me to the hospital. They admitted me, and put me on an IV to get fluids into me, suspecting me of having tonsilitus (dumb doctors. :-) ) So there I was. Almost at my "due date", and stuck in hospital. Wasn't great fun, but oh well. It was good to get the fluids into me. :-)
The morning before my "due date" I woke up with an upset tummy, and mild contractions... and yes, I was still in the hospital. My midwife came in to see me, but really it was to tell me that she was taking a couple of days off, so I was going to end up with her back-up anyway! Darryl. Dear sweet Darryl (sarcasm much here. ;-) ) She confirmed that I was in early labour (because obviously I couldn't make that diagnosis on my own), and told me that she'd see me in a couple of days, once she came back. Sigh. I asked to leave the hospital early that afternoon, as I really didn't want to do early labour in the hospital. I went back to Mum and Dad's house, and immediately the contractions picked up a notch. By about 6pm, I was vomiting with the contractions. They were about 5 minutes apart, at the time, and quite strong. James turned up, and we laboured there for a few more hours. At about 9 pm we decided it was time to head to the hospital. After ringing Darryl (who was already at the hospital with another labouring woman), we jumped into the car and headed in. A lovely nurse/midwife greeted us, and had saved me the room with the birthing pool. How nice was that!! Unfortunately she was heading off duty, but it was awesome seeing her friendly face. :-) ...
To be continued. :-)
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Bits and bobs. :-)
Soo, this is what I've been up to, these past few afternoons. :-) I've got what I'm calling my "nesting jive", so have been sewing up a storm, and having a maaarvellous time! This is the first quilt I've ever tried to make (other than the one I made for an ACE Convention when I was 13! But I'm preeetttyyy sure I had no clue what I was doing, haha!), and I'm pretty rapt with the results. Most of you know that we don't know the sex of this little unborn bubby, so I was tossing up between a "bright and bold" quilt, or a "meek and mild" one (ie. beige). Here's hoping you can pick which one I chose from the photos!! This quilt is completely from my heart, for this baby. It's not perfect. There's many lumps and bumps, crooked stitching, and uneven lines, but I'm planning on teaching my baby a lesson from that one day. Life is full of bumps and crooked paths, and it's only by walking hand in hand with our Lord that we can get through it safely. The colours are bright and bombastic...showing my complete and utter excitement at the thought of this new addition to our family. We are so thrilled to be expecting, and can't wait to meet this new little one!! This picture below is the back of the quilt. A dear dear friend sent the fabric to me, and I was thrilled to make it a part of the quilt. :-) You know who you are, and we love you guys so much!!
And in other news... Introducing the newest addition to our family! People, this is Pia. She is a MamAmor Doll, specially handcrafted all the way from Canada. She is the most beautiful doll I've ever owned, and *gasp*... is she pregnant?!
She most certainly is!! Not only that, but I do believe she will be delivering soon. -)There's the head!! This one is a posterior baby! 
Awww! It's a baby! Complete with a placenta!!
Awww! It's a baby! Complete with a placenta!! 
Straight onto Mummy for some feeding. Just the way it should be. :-)
My dear sweet husband brought this for me, by sneaking on my facebook account and finding her webpage on my "Likes". He then picked her himself... didn't he do a grand job!! I'm so so excited about her, and can't wait to use her when I become a midwife. :-) I love you James, thank you so much!!
Aaaaand, onto more news! Rachel moved into a big girl's bed tonight! I can finally dismantle the cot, for the first time in 2 1/2 years, and take about two months break. haha. She wasn't so sure about it, but was only teary for a short while. She's now snoooozing away, and all we can hear is the occasional bump on the wall. She's growing up so fast!!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Mummy, I love you 162 times!
I have a very affectionate son. No matter what time of day it is, he's always up for a cuddle and a kiss. He presses his little face up against mine and says "Mummy, I love you!! I love you 162 times!!" and then grins really big, as though he's given me the moon. Which he has! You see, he's only 5 years old. And the number 162 is about as high as his little developing mind can think. While it seems just "cute" that he says what we'd consider a low number (certainly lower than "a million!!") he is in fact telling me that he loves me to the highest of his capability.
His little brother and sister have caught onto his ways, which always earn him a smooch and tickle. Just this morning, little Olivia tucked her tiny body up beside me on the couch, and with her curly mop of hair framing her sweet face, she announced that she loves me 152 times. And she was closely followed by Christian who demanded my attention with his "mummy. Mummy. MUMMY!! One...two...threee... mmmm!!"
I love my kids. :-)
His little brother and sister have caught onto his ways, which always earn him a smooch and tickle. Just this morning, little Olivia tucked her tiny body up beside me on the couch, and with her curly mop of hair framing her sweet face, she announced that she loves me 152 times. And she was closely followed by Christian who demanded my attention with his "mummy. Mummy. MUMMY!! One...two...threee... mmmm!!"
I love my kids. :-)
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