narrating kayoz

Will we, won't we?

It's clear that I am better rested than I was when Liam was Mikaela's age (despite the fact that at the moment she is tending to wake up twice between 12 and 6 most nights!), because when Liam was this age I couldn't imagine wanting to be pregnant again any time soon. Whereas now, I am starting to romanticise pregnancy and think how nice it might be (at least between 20 and 30 weeks - I'm not completely delusional).

Of course, that could also be to do with the fact that we always planned to wait until Liam was three to have a second child, so I wasn't that close to trying when he was 22 months. Whereas with Mikaela, because of our ages, we only planned to wait till she was 24 months to start trying. We've put that back now by a month or two, so that I can have at least one full month back at work before getting pregnant (a little optimistic I know, but you can't start trying if you're not ready, regardless of the statistics). But at this stage, we are pretty sure we will try. Not sure how long we'll keep trying for if it doesn't happen, but we will try. I think.

what I have been thinking lately (roosters, dogs, kids and writing, for instance)

I don't seem to be doing much with this blog lately. Even the baby book entries mostly just get written in my head, and end up being simple lists of words when I finally get something out.

It's frustrating because I have things to write about.

The kids, of course. How Liam seems to have turned a corner from the (slightly difficult) five and a half year old he was, to the six year old he is now, even though the books say six is supposed to be harder. How I think school plays a part, since he's now one of the older kids in his class (which has two years together, 4-6 year olds) and he seems to be feeling the responsibility (in a good way). How Mikaela is so delightful just now, but I'm still a bit afeared about what is around the corner, because she is such a determined little thing.

About future plans too. How I had a little freak out the other week that if we had another child we might end up with a "special needs" child of some sort and be stuck in this part of our lives (the part with seriously dependent beings) forever. But how I'm moreorless over that now and feeling a bit excited about starting to try to get pregnant again in a few months time, despite the very real possibility that it will take even longer than last time (me being 36 and Chris almost 40 now) or that it won't happen at all.

And that would naturally lead into the post where I suddenly remembered the fertility specialist saying to me that I might, possibly, have an early menopause, because of only having one ovary and who knows, the other one might not be all that great either (though I secretly think it is), and me suddenly realising the other day that I don't want to go through an early menopause for more reasons than just fertility - which is what I had focussed on up to now.

And then I have these posts I want to write about sustainable living, and how Lochie squashed most of our summer vegetable garden, has broken into both chicken runs and let the chooks out, let the chooks into the winter vegetable garden (which is toast now) and eats the eggs. But we're still glad to have him (mostly), though that was all a little depressing for a while. And Chris is starting obedience training with him next Tuesday night. And how one of our two Silkies turned out to be a rooster and started terrorising his sister, so we got rid of him and now she is much happier but I still think we need another little Silkie friend for her (or two, or maybe three).

And of course about The Compact and how that's going and how I feel about it, with a little more detail than that last post.

And then about writing, and how I am back to working on my fiction now (not the essay which I still haven't even got a draft of, or a conclusion for, despite it all being due in less than 2 months!) and am really enjoying the revision/re-writing process. I fact I *love* it. Who'd have thunk? (I always dread revision, and always love it once I get going. Weird.)

And no doubt a bunch of other things that don't come to mind right now because I can hear Kaely in the kitchen and I am wondering what she is doing, and because Liam is off sick today (just a cold with a mild fever I *think*, but there is chicken pox going around the school), but I've just remembered that I have to get everyone dressed and go into the school anyway, because I am the 'class co-ordinator' and I have to put out some pledge forms for the community hours scheme before term ends, and term ends tomorrow...

And now Liam is calling me, and I think Kaely is harrassing him, so I will go be a parent, and save thinking more about this blog for another day.

Inconceivable

I'm now reading Inconceivable (Ben Elton), and while it too has it's annoyances (seriously, are there still women who think if their partner is attracted to someone else that he (or she) is effectively being unfaithful to her? Or that enjoying a spot of "choke the monkey" (his term) on his own is somehow evidence of him not being attracted to her any more? This is the Noughties for heaven's sake!), it's only taken to page 69 to have me laughing till I cried, a very good sign for a comedy.

More on the Panayotov book

I finally finished In Vitro Fertility Goddess. By the end, it finally got me in.

I assume it’s doing fairly well (here in Oz anyway), judging by the amount of publicity it seems to have had, so I wish they’d put out a revised edition – one that’s been professionally edited. Because as Leslie Cannold said, it could be a lot more readable with some editing out of repetition, and (I say) the addition of a few more pronouns and articles.

One of Sol Stein’s “little things that damage the writer’s authority” is glitches that yank the reader out of their experience. That’s what all those missing pronouns etc were for me. Leaving out a few gives an impression. Doing it all the time got annoying (quickly), as I had to keep re-reading sentences to get the meaning.

As regards the content of the book, the only part I found really got me in was the last bit when she was finally pregnant. Despite the subchorionic hematoma that had her bleeding on and off, and therefore worrying constantly, for most of the first trimester, and the placenta previa and its accompanying complications later, it made me want to be pregnant again, or more particularly, it made me want to give birth to a tiny new baby again. Also this was the part of the book where I finally laughed. Twice, even.

I can see how this part of the book might be the most annoying part to people currently experiencing infertility though. Although she suffers miscarriages and took a long time to finally achieve a sustained pregnancy, Panayotov was quickly successful once she turned to IVF. That makes her unusual, despite the cultural image we have of IVF being the quick solution to infertility. Most of the time its not. And that’s another annoyance – that the book perpetuates that stereotype – though one can hardly fault Panayotov for not faking a few unsuccessful cycles for the sake of a counter-narrative.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I have been pregnant, while I haven’t suffered from sustained infertility,* that makes the last part of the book more palatable to me. I suspect it might be as much to do with the fact that it lacks the over-the-top contempt towards pregnant women and mothers, and indeed women in general, that in the rest of the book becomes boringly repetitious at best and quite offensive at worst. It is the sort of comedy that depends on belittling and stereotyping – not uncommon, but not to my taste.

It also probably has to do with the fact that the reader knows from the start that Panayotov ends up with a baby. At least you do if you’ve ever heard her interviewed or just read the back of the book. And it’s pretty clear from the title just how she achieves that pregnancy. So there’s no page turning motivation early on in the book. It’s only once she safely pregnant, following an embryo transfer, that I started to be really interested in the outcome – how will the pregnancy go, what sort of birth will she end up with? Perhaps it’s also that at this point she starts treating other characters with some empathy instead of as cardboard cutouts put there to annoy her.

In any case, I did eventually come to care about Panayotov’s story, but it took a good while. The obsessive insanity aspect of the infertility narrative is probably something a lot of women can relate too, although I think they might relate more if it were toned down some. And of course the outcome – a healthy baby at the end – could be hopeful and inspiring to those setting out on a similar journey. But for those four years into IVF with no baby in sight (or even with a baby, but only after several years and as many egg collections), it could be downright galling.

___________
*We had only just begun serious investigation – ie going beyond what my GP could do – when I fell pregnant with Mikaela.

Infertility and /or new parenthood in fiction

There seem to be plenty of memoirs being published, not to mention other forms of life writing (blogs included), either about or incorporating narratives of infertility and new parenthood (achieved via infertility or not). For example: Child of Mine: Original Essays on Becoming a Mother, Waiting for Daisy, Mothershock, loving every (other) minute of it, A Little Pregnant, and In Vitro Fertility Goddess, among others. But I can't find much contemporary fiction covering the same areas. (By contemporary in this case I mean the last decade or less.) Why is that?

The fiction I have turned up so far includes Ben Elton's Inconceivable (which I'm in the queue to get from the library), Tick Tock, by Jane Freeman and The Woman Next Door, by Barbara Delinsky. I've read the Freeman book and from memory it didn't do a lot to challenge the normative narratives about infertility, and I haven't been able to get hold of the Delinsky book.

Edited to add: I have found a few short stories in Literary Mama: Reading for the Maternally Inclined, and on the Literary Mama site. But is this the only source of them?

Hope and realism

In the first chapter of Linda L. Layne's Motherhood Lost: A Feminist Account of Pregnancy Loss in America, entitled 'The miscarriage years' Layne writes of her second pregnancy

I am surprised now, and touched, to see that at that point, even though I was certainly by then aware and vigilant against the possibility of loss, that I could still embrace a pregnancy with such innocence and hope. (p. 5 in the Amazon online reader - I can't get this in the library, damn it!)

Even though I'm reading this for uni, I am immediately drawn to thinking about my own situation and am reminded of hopeful attitude to trying for another baby next year. I would love to leave another three-four year gap between my next two kids, but given that I will be 36 this year and Chris is already 39, and given that it took 17 cycles and one miscarriage before we conceived Mikaela, we don't want to leave it too long. But somehow I still assume that it will all be okay; next time we'll be 'normal and conceive within 6 months, or at least within a year, and no more miscarriages either.

This despite the fact that it will be four years since the last time we started trying to conceive. My expectation suddenly seems almost presumptuous.

A birth and a death

My sister gave birth today. The baby died during the labour, not unexpectedly. She was at 21.5 weeks gestation, and she had no working kidneys. Her name was Samantha.

Samantha’s story has been one I haven’t been writing, because it isn’t mine. But today I feel the need to give her some acknowledgment. I don’t know who she would have become, or even if that’s a useful question to ask. She would have been my niece, my parent’s granddaughter, Liam and Mikaela’s cousin, and most of all, a loved daughter of my sister and her husband; their first-born.

Rest in peace, little one.

Thirty-five

This is my birthday week, and I'm turning 35.

People don't seem to take this seriously as an Important Milestone. They think a number has to end in 0 to count. Even my mother-in-law, who just turned 75, says a '5' year doesn't count (then again, maybe you don't want to celebrate milestones at that age). But to me it does count.

It's partly that 35 is the beginning of the steep decline of fertility for women. We still don't know whether or not we'll be trying for another child, but if we do the fact that we took nearly 18 months to conceive Mikaela will definitely play into our decisions around timing.

So far I have to say I really like the four-year age gap and wouldn't mind going that way again. But since that would put me at 38+ as a best case scenario, and Chris over forty, we'd probably start trying before that. Especially since my mother's menopause started before she hit forty and my sister (only two years my senior) is about to start IVF. Not a terribly good family history for planning a quick conception in one's late thirties.

But it's more than just the fertility connection. It's also that 35 is half way to three score years and ten. Half way! And it's also that when Chris turned 35 Liam had just been born and I was already in the middle of a mortality-feeling crisis (mine and especially my parents'), so him turning 35 seemed like a big deal to me. I do know that the average life-span is longer than seventy years these days, but thinking about how old my parents would be at crucial milestones in Liam's life was I think the first time their mortality was really brought home to me. And I guess my unconscious tied all those feelings in with Chris turning 35, than added the issue of declining fertility in on top of that when we had trouble concieving Mikaela.

All this, I realise, seems pretty negative, so you might think that I wouldn't want to celebrate this milestone, but you'd be wrong. Because celebrating birthdays is first and foremost about celebrating life. Celebrating the fact that you were born at all. And I am very happy to have been born, and to have lived the 35 years I've had so far. And of course I'm also lucky, because whether or not we decide to try for another child in a year or (more likely) two, we have Liam and Mikaela, and I haven't even turned 35 yet.

So yeah, I'm celebrating this milestone. Even though there is a part of me that is feeling my fertility take a nose dive this week, I am affirming life at the same time. Hell, maybe I'll even have a party.

Mikaela's birth story Part 2

To recap: my waters broke at about 1:30am followed by contractions - but of inconsistent intensity and frequency - for the rest of the night. At about 9am I called my mum and the midwife, Debbie, to tell them what was happening, but told them I was not yet in 'established labour', defined as 'strong, regular contractions' generally of no more than about five minutes apart.

Debbie said that if things hadn't gotten established by around lunch time she'd want me to come into the birth centre for a check, since my waters had broken. My mum said she'd be there in about an hour to collect Liam. All good. Somewhere in there we also called our doula, Vickie.

But then, things started hotting up. I was having more trouble focusing and relaxing through the contractions, especially with Liam popping in and out. Actually that's an understatement. It just wasn't happening. However I was still breathing rather than yelling at this point. Chris was mostly off trying to get Liam ready to go to my Mum's, but he'd left the watch in the room with me. So - since they were definitely getting a lot more intense - I started timing contractions. By the time my mother arrived at around 10am I had been having five minute apart contractions for at least half an hour. Mum took one look at me and said she didn't think, if she were me, that she'd be waiting till lunch time. In fact she would suggest that we head to the birth centre as soon as she left. Sage advice, as it turned out.

At that point I hadn't been thinking in terms of heading straight in, but her words prompted just that decision. As soon as she left with Liam, I had Chris call Debbie who arranged to meet us at the birth centre in half an hour. Of course, at that point we realised all the things 'we' (Chris) had to do before we left - change the sheets on Liam's bed, for one, since he'd wet the bed the night before, and change the sheets on our own bed in case my mum ended up sleeping there that night (I was still expecting to be home that night, but just in case...) - in retrospect I see that this was possibly not as urgent as I thought at the time. (And anyway I'll wake Chris up earlier next time!)

So, it was after 10:30 by the time we managed to leave the house - Debbie's notes said that we arrived at the birth centre at 11:00. On the way in I had a contraction at exactly the same spot as I remember having one on the way to give birth to Liam. That spot on Sulwood Drive will always harbour labour memories for me now. When we got there Debbie took us into our room - the same room Liam was born in - and took my blood pressure, listened to the baby's heartbeat, checked my pulse and whatnot. While she was doing that I had a couple more contractions but was able to sit on the edge of the bed and breathe through them.

Debbie said the bath (a large corner bath) was already filled, since Chris had told her on the phone that I wanted to come in to get in the bath, but that I might want to walk around a bit before getting in as the water could slow things down. I joked that that wouldn't be entirely unwelcome, but I was only half joking. I remembered how relaxing the bath was in my labour with Liam, how it helped me get right into the hypnobirthing/calmbirthing zone, and that was what I was counting on happening again.

Ha!

Debbie left us to get settled in, and I stripped off in record time and got in the water (not before having another contraction however, standing up, which really is not a good position for me during labour). Ahh, lovely. But what's this? Another contraction already? And, and - It was not easy to breathe through. In fact by this time my contractions were all accompanied by a sort of deep groaning breath, not just quiet breathing -  that seemed to help somehow. A couple more contractions in quick succession and I was just about ready for drugs, and wondering how I'd get through. I was praying (literally, and I don't do that all that often) that this was transition - even though I'd been expecting several more hours before we got to that point - otherwise I did not know how I was going to get through.

I remember Chris wondering aloud whether he should go and get the midwife - or maybe he was talking to Vickie, who'd arrived shortly after I'd entered the bath. I was thinking the same thing, wanting Debbie to come in so that she could tell me it would shortly all be over. Please God! The next thing I knew Debbie was in there, and telling Chris that she could hear the change in my voice during contractions. Yes, I was no longer even remotely quiet. I was still using the calmbirthing though, and relaxing as much as I could.

The next thing I knew I was right in the middle of a normal contraction, when suddenly it became a push. I believe I said "Oh god, oh god, she's coming." I know, it sounds like a soap opera, but that's what I said. I don't remember having anything like this level of awareness of switching gears during my labour with Liam, but this time it was clear as bells. Debbie's notes say that this, the start of second stage, happened at 11:50, about 1/2 hour after I got into the water.

Now, I have to say that this was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I don't remember any sense of voluntary pushing - my body was just doing its thing - so I suppose the hard part was in letting it. I know I was very anxious not to tear (again) so there was a part of me that was wanting to hold back. Chris was right there reminding me to use my breath to breathe the baby down (not just to screech). Remarkably, this was actually helpful. I was freaking out a bit, and his reminders  - and Debbie's - helped me to calm down and not hyperventilate!

I remember Debbie saying 'just one more push' and me saying 'really? is she really coming?' by which I really meant 'is it really about to be over?' Which of course it wasn't - one more push was to crowning, not birth.

It's funny how the mind works in amidst everything else. While all this was going on I was lying - or more like floating - on my side in the water, and once second stage got underway Debbie said it would help to have my legs open up a bit, so I asked Vickie to help support my upper leg. So when Debbie said it was almost over, while part of me was thinking 'thank God' and 'I am never doing this again' another part of me was thinking 'Just was well, because Vickie's arms must be getting awfully tired.'

Mikaela's head crowned - which means it not only was visible but stopped retracting between contractions - at 12:02am. And that's another thing, I remember the feeling of her moving back in after the end of the contractions and desperately not wanting it too, since that meant I'd have to just push her back again! I don't remember having that level of awareness of what was happening during Liam's birth. Of course, second stage with him was a lot longer, so I guess it might be all more of a blur - plus I'd been going at it all night (in established labour) so I was pretty tired by the time it came to pushing him out.

Then I think there was a bit of a break between her crowning and her head popping all the way out (with the cord around her neck, same as Liam - something I always used to think was a big deal, but found out when Liam was born that it is actually very common and not much of an issue - the midwife just unloops it). Or maybe the break was between her head and the rest of her. I remember once her head came out Debbie asked if the contraction was still there, to which I murmured a vague assent, and so she said I might be able to push the shoulder (and therefore the rest of her) out before it finished. Even as she was speaking I knew the contraction was pretty much done, but I tried anyway, so keen was I to be finished. So when there was that break between contractions at around this point, while it was something of a relief, it was mostly an annoyance, with the finish line in sight, so to speak.

Chris was up near my head providing a hand for me to keep a death grip on (actually more important than it sounds, since it was also helping me maintain my balance in the water), but Vickie was down the other end and able to see Mikaela's face when she came out. She wrote "From my position I had a clear view of the baby's face, it was absolutely serene with a Mona Lisa smile." Of course she also said " Kirsten laboured with focused and well measured breathing, her face was beautifully soft, her mouth slightly opened, her eyes closed." This was referring to the transition period, which is not precisely how I remember it at all. Then again she said Chris was stoking my hair, which I thought was something she imagined, but Chris told me it was true. So I guess my record may not be completely accurate!

Anyway, at 12:10pm on June 24, less than 3 hours after labour had established, Mikaela came out into the world and straight up onto my chest in the water. They brought  warm blankets to put over the exposed parts of us and I just held her.

She was amazing. And slippery. And at that stage we still didn't know she was a she (although I'd been referring to her that way the whole labour). The cord was in the way of our view as she came up, so no-one had seen. After a few minutes Debbie asked if it would be okay with me to let the water out, as it was hard to keep us warm - the blankets kept wicking up the water and needing to be changed - while we waited for the third stage to initiate (more contractions to expel the placenta). I said fine, but first I lifted her up to check if she was indeed Mikeala, or was some as yet unnamed boy. Mikaela she was (though I did almost drop her back into the water in the process, which I could almost swear happened with Liam too - slippery, like I said).

Of course, once the water was out of the bath and with it my lovely buoyancy, the bath had a hard bottom and was not all that comfortable. So after a couple of minutes I asked for and received help to get out - Mikaela never leaving my arms - and was deposited onto the (double) bed. There Mikaela nuzzled at my breast, though without latching on, and after a while the contractions started up again and out came the placenta. Those contractions were more like the ones from earlier in the labour though, thank goodness: easy to relax and breath through.

Once the placenta was out Mikaela did latch on and spent the next hour-and-a-half sucking away happily.

All in all this labour seemed harder - and much shorter - than Liam's, but I felt somehow more in control. I think it seemed harder mostly because I never had a chance to get into the calmbirthing 'zone' which I spent hours in during Liam's labour. And I felt more in control - more aware of what was happening - partly because I'd done it all before, maybe partly because I wasn't so tired by the end, and partly because I knew the midwife and connected with her. She was truly wonderful. Will I do it again? Well we'll have to wait and see. If we do go back for another turn, then yes, I would do it the same way. Except next time I will wake Chris earlier and go into the birth centre quite a bit earlier (after all, it went from 12 hours established labour with Liam to 3 with Mikaela - what will the next one be?)!

And thus endeth part 2. Part three, in which we find out whether I did tear again, and how the rest of the day went, will have to wait until another time. And probably won't be called Part 3, since it really won't be Mikaela's birth story anymore will it?

Mikaela's birth story (or my labour story, with Mik's birth at the end - almost)

Mikaela was four weeks old yesterday, will be one month old tomorrow, and I still haven't written her birth story. So here it is:

Part 1: pre-labour (the boring bit, but for the record...)

Believe it or not, the night before Mikaela was born, I said to Chris that I was ready, that I'd be quite happy for her to come that night. Of course, I'd been saying I was ready for weeks, so that's nothing new really. And then I changed my mind anyway - that was Friday night, Chris didn't have to go back to work until Wednesday (although he had some Rolfing clients on Monday and Tuesday who he ended up having to cancel), so I figured Tuesday night would be better - giving us the four day weekend to rest up first.

I'd been having contractions on and off all week at that point, which never happened with Liam, so I'd been in a moreorless constant state of readiness, wondering if each day if that would be the day. With Liam I'd had a hind water leak the night before I went into labour, which at the time I thought was the membranes rupturing properly, so I thought I 'knew' that labour would be commencing shortly*. That was nice. So, I said to Chris on this Friday night, it would be nice in some ways if my waters broke, letting us know that this was indeed 'it'. But that of course I didn't really want that to happen, since that would make the labour quicker and more intense (for me and the baby) and, without the water cushioning her head, also made the possibility of the baby becoming distressed more likely, and therefore likewise medical interventions. Then off I went to bed.

At about 1:30 in the morning, or slightly before, I woke up. Something made me check for moisture - I'm not sure what, I don't remember feeling wet - and moisture there was. I sat up and the moisture became a little gush, so I grabbed a convenient towel (and managed not to get the bed wet) and went to the loo. Where it became entirely obvious that my waters had, indeed, broken. This time, for real. The membrane beneath Liam's head didn't rupture until right before he came out, so I hadn't experienced this before, but there was a lot of fluid. Oh, and there was a bit of a mucus plug but it was yellow, not red - ie not a 'bloody show' - was this the so-called bloody show, I wondered, or not? I sat on the toilet for a while, then got out a night time pad ('sanitary napkin') and headed back to the bedroom. I went through three of those in fairly quick succession, but then it slowed down to a trickle.

Meanwhile I spent ten minutes or so looking for some clothes to pack in the 'labour bag' to wear home from the birth centre, then realised I'd probably want to wear those ones to the birth centre, did some tiding up in my bedroom in case things got going quickly and my Mum ended up coming over and sleeping in there for the rest of the night. Then I decided I needed to sit down and make some notes about what was happening (everything in life must be written down. It is a rule!). Here are some of them:

1:39 sit down to make notes [noted down most of the above, but more briefly!)

1:41 I had a painless contraction.

1:45 decide to try a calm birthing relaxation [from CD]

1:46 realise I need to lie down on towel or soak bed - all that moving around creates more gushing.

1:47 change pad

1:51 try lying down again. mildly nauseous.

1:56 another contraction - lying down so more intense and uncomfortable.

2:04 contraction. ditto.

2:11 contraction. as above.

2:18 contraction. as above.

2:29.contraction. sitting up cross legged in bed - more intense but shortish.

2:32 Try lying back down. Any chance of sleep? Wish I could go email a friend, but Chris is sleeping in the study.

2:36 contraction.

2:42 contraction

2:49 still mildly nauseous - or is that hunger?

2:50 contraction.  a heat pack on my back could be really nice.

2:59 contraction.

3:01 I'm getting up, I'm starving. Can't sleep. Sure I'd be more comfortable having these in a chair.

3:02 Except it's so nice to be lying down between times.

[here endeth the notes]

So I went out to the kitchen, think I had something to eat (can't even remember now) and heated up a wheat cushion. Chris - who was sleeping in the study, right off the family room & kitchen - didn't stir. I kept telling myself I'd wake him after the next contraction.

I continued having contractions roughly 8 minutes apart - they were uncomfortable enough for me to stop and breath through them, using the calm birthing techniques, but not too bad and not consistently intense. Around 4am I found a position of sort of semi-reclining sideways on the couch which didn't make them worse (as lying down did) and which allowed me to nap in between contractions - and then they slowed down. Not sure exactly, but I'd say that for the next two hours they came at 10-20 minute intervals. At about six I got up - can't remember why, maybe I got uncomfortable. I think the contractions had sped up again, but walking around seemed to slow them down. Which was a pain, since I figured if I wasn't sleeping, things should get a move on.

Finally at about 7:45 I woke Chris (and where was Liam, you might ask? He was sleeping in! Weird, but good) and told him we were going to have a baby that day. initially he looked unimpressed with being woken, but that made him change his tune!

Between 8 and 9 I sat backwards on the toilet in the ensuite, sitting on a pillow and leaning on another one - I figured this could be a good posi to allow me to be relaxed and nap in between times (our doula had suggested it), but actually I think the contractions would have been less intense if I just sat up right, hands dangling between my legs, in a dining chair. At least, they got less intense when I did that. Anyway, so I was sitting backwards on the toilet and Chris (when he was there) pressed my hips together from the sides (does that make sense?) during contractions, which helped quite a bit (another suggestion from our doula). Liam came in at some point and swapped places with Chris to give me a back rub (in between contractions) which was very sweet. He was in and out all the time between eight and tenish, and was lovely the whole time, but did make it hard for me to get into the calm birthing 'zone'. I got Chris to time the contractions for me for that hour between eight and nine and they were mostly around eight-ten minutes apart, but still inconsistent in intensity (some very intense, others mild) and with the occasional longer gap.

At nine I called the midwife to let her know what was happening - that my waters had broken, that I'd been having contractions since then, but that labour had yet to establish, according to the convention of consistent 'strong, regular contractions'. I also called my mother, who was supposed to be coming around for morning tea, and asked her to come get Liam instead. Again I said things weren't established yet, so when she said she'd just got out of the shower and would getting there by ten be okay, I said fine.

But from that point on, things got more intense fairly quickly.

Part 2, in which labour establishes and Mikaela is born, will have to wait though.

*Of course, I now know this to be wrong, even though I was right. Hind water leaks don't really mean much of anything, and often seal themselves up - as this one probably did, since I had no more leaking - without further effect.

Food

There are so many foods on the 'off' list when you are pregnant, and as I was just saying the other day, I was particularly strict about them.

Well, last night I had sushi for dinner, with fresh, raw oysters and King Island Brie with crackers as entres. I do love my husband. (And my food.)

Introducing Mikaela Estelle

Have neither time nor energy to write much of anything right now, so will just duplicate my announcement email...

Mikaela Estelle was born at 12:10pm on Saturday 24 June after a short, intense labour, at the Birth Centre. Everything went perfectly. [And by short I mean we got to the birth centre at 11am, I got straight in the water expecting that would make everything easier like last time - ha! straight into transition instead! an hour later there she was. Amazing. And fucking hard work.]

The all important details: she was 47 cm long, 3.415kg (about 7lbs, 8oz), with a head circ of 34. She nursed for an hour and a half shortly after birth, and has fed lots more since then - making her quite a contrast to her brother (though with very similar measurements).

Liam is delighted with his baby sister, as are we all.

Now I'm off to try to get some sleep while Chris and Liam are at the Library and M. is asleep.

Contractions (38 weeks today)

I've been having pre-labour contractions on and off for days now. In fact I had two hours of regular, ten-minute-apart ones on Tuesday night, though not much since then. They weren't all that intense - too uncomfortable to lie down through (of course they started as soon as I lay down to go to sleep), but okay if I got into a good sitting position.

Part of me wants to go into labour tonight - get the waiting over, get to say 'forget it' about any uncompleted tasks, get to have that fabulous endorphin rush that is what I am in this whole thing for anyway. Another part would like to wait until I can breath properly through my nose again, since I am still getting over my cold. And still another part thinks it would be great to hold off for a couple more weeks and appreciate our time as a one child family while it lasts.

I didn't have any of this 'waiting' stuff going on before Liam's birth. I sort of expected he'd be early rather than late, but not two weeks early. This time, given that Liam was two weeks early, 38 weeks (which is today) is kind of my equivalent of 40 weeks last time - that is, I'm thinking it could be any time now, though I know it may not be for another two weeks (or more), so each day I wonder if it will be today. Or tonight. Also with Liam I didn't have any contractions at all until labour-day - at least, none that I was aware of. Not even painless Braxton-Hicks contractions.

Like Chris said to me yesterday, having that two hours of regular contractions on Tuesday night really drove home the (potential) immediacy of it. I didn't really think anything was going to happen then - although I had no good reason for that, as they felt pretty much like the ones I was having in the afternoon before Liam's birth, ie in the few hours leading up to established labour - but it could have.

So, if it happens tonight I'll be thrilled (although it would be nice to get over my cold, though at least the baby will have my antibodies), but if not... I've got lunch plans and playdate plans for next week. And hey, if we make it to July 1st the government's maternity payment will be $1000 more, which will more than pay for the fitted cloth nappies we plan to purchase once we decide what sort we like.* I'm not counting on that but it would definitely balance out any frustration over having to wait that long. (Of course, I do realise that we may be waiting way longer than that - anytime up to July 20 would still be considered 'normal' - but frankly, that just doesn't bear thinking of!)

Ahh, Liam's 'woken' from his 'nap'. Better go be a parent....

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*So far we have two each of Babybeehinds' one size hemp & organic nappies and Motherease one size organic cotton nappies, plus one Nature's Child all-in-one (ie doesn't need a cover) organic cotton size 1 nappy. We'll try them out - interspersed with disposables and normal square terry toweling nappies and then make a decision on buying a bunch in bulk. Good for the environment, should save us $2-3000 over the period of nappy wearing for this child, and (I'm assuming) waaaay easier to use than regular cloth nappies.

I am MAD

I should be in bed now - 10:40 at night, and my best friend who is also a Bradley Childbirth instructor likes to tell her students that by this point they should *both* (pregnant woman and partner) act as though every day might be the day before labour. ie Not stay up late writing bitchy blog entries. But, I can't sleep anyway because I am too full of righteous anger.

Usually I don't bitch about people I know in here, because I work on the premise that anyone I write about will probably read it eventually. This time I don't care. My father-in-law and I don't see eye-to-eye on many matters, but in general I guess we get on okay. He has a great relationship with Liam, and for that I will tolerate much, and, I suppose, so will he. Every now and then I snap at him about something, but usually that's as far as it goes. But today he pissed me off royally.

Actually at the time I was only mildly pissed, and moreorless let it pass. In fact it's really partly Chris's fault I am so mad, since I waited till tonight to debrief with him, and while he agreed that it wasn't the most appropriate comment or way that his father made the comment... well, you can hear the 'but' there, can't you?

Now I've built it up to be something major, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. You have to understand the context, and particularly the context of my life over the past two years or so, to really get it. What he said was that I should not be driving anymore - you know, at this point in pregnancy. I was risking two lives now, he said. Because of the steering wheel don't you know, should I have an accident. Not that I've ever had an accident. Ever. (Unlike him.)

Now, part of this is that I am just sick of being told what I should and shouldn't do - 'One drink won't hurt you' 'oh my god are you drinking tea while pregnant?' 'Isn't avoiding pre-prepared salads a bit extreme? I ate whatever I liked in my pregnancies - even sushi - with no problem' etc. But it's also more than that.

I am not a risk taker. Ask my husband. Ask anyone. I am one of those parents who has to be careful not to over protect - Chris will let Liam take way more risks at, say, the playground than I would, for instance. This is something I am conscious of having to manage, if I don't want to instill too much fear and caution into my children (but of course, I also want them to be safe - it's a hard balance to find).

Further, I do my research and I take it seriously. When I was trying to get pregnant this time I read that listeria can have up to about an 8 week incubation period (can't remember the exact time now) - so in other words, you can eat something well before you get pregnant and not show any symptoms of listeria until you miscarry weeks later. Presumably this isn't that common, because when you hear of listeria outbreaks (and people do die of it every year) people tend to all get it within a relatively short space of time, or so it seems. Nonetheless, since that time, I have been rigorous about not eating anything remotely suspect.

That means that for two years now I've been avoiding all the obvious things: soft cheeses, raw fish, deli meats... but also the less obvious things, that not everyone bothers about: cold left overs, pre-prepared salads, including anything from a sandwich bar, anything that I'm not completely sure has been cooked, thoroughly, just now - so that means pretty much everything from a food court (except hot chips or uncut fruit), anything like a BBQ chicken or hotdog, any salad served with my food food in a restaurant, even vegetarian 'sushi' rolls. People mock - bad enough that I haven't been drinking alcohol or caffiene (and Chris and I both moreorless gave those up about 3 months before we started trying to get pregnant, though we haven't been as strict as we were with Liam's pre-conception and pregnancy) - and this means that I also have to turn down food people offer me in their homes that I'm not sure of, or that was prepared earlier. But like I said, I'm not a risk taker. I had one miscarriage, I don't want another one. Let alone a still birth, or for the baby to die after birth because of something I ate beforehand (and yes, that is a risk with listeria).

People mock, and I'm pretty sure my father-in-law has been among them, although not as badly as some, and probably he learned his lesson after I snapped at him once when we were still trying to get pregnant (or maybe it was even after we got pregnant?) and he commented that just relaxing might help/have helped. I believe I told him that was about the most offensive thing he could say to someone suffering from fertility problems. (And I think I made myself clear on that score here in this entry). So for him now to turn around and say I shouldn't be driving... it's not just offensive because it's telling me what to do, what risks to take, and that basically in his view I am an irresponsible mother if I do what virtually every other pregnant women does and keep driving right till the end of the pregnancy. It's not just because he has been dismissive of our other efforts to keep this baby safe, that I am mad.

It's because, I am not a risk taker. Do you know why? Because I constantly imagine tragedy & drama. I strap Liam in the car and then walk across the road to return the shopping trolley, but I never close his door, just in case - because as I walk across the road I am imagining a scenario where I get hit by a car and taken away in an ambulance, and he is left alone in the car. I take a shower when Liam and Chris are out and imagine someone breaking in and stabbing me, and trying to get to a phone in time to call an ambulance to maybe be able to save the baby (though probably not me) - I imagine out this whole scenario, and almost have myself in tears. I do this countless times a day. Whole conversations get played out in my head.* You wouldn't guess it, probably, because I am basically an optomist. In fact, I'm as much of an optomist as anyone I know. But I'm not a risk taker.

Well, now someone has told me not to drive. What happens now if I do get in an accident? If something does happen to the baby? It will no longer be a freak chance, but my fault. Never mind that the bus I'm travelling on could have an accident. Or I could get hit by a car crossing the street. Now if I drive, I am going to have to feel guilty. You probably think I jest, but I don't. I am so angry at this man for making this become my fault.

And just in case you are wondering... driving in third trimester pregnancy is considered such a non-issue that I could find almost nothing about it on the web. Babycenter talks about seat belts and airbags, but doesn't even consider that you might be worried about driving in general. The Durham Council County website in the UK has a page entitled 'Driving and Pregnancy' but all they talk about is the best way to wear a seatbelt. All I could find on the Essential Baby site was that you should try to take breaks and move around regularly on long trips. Finally I found sofeminine.co.uk where someone had actually written in to 'ask the experts' about driving in the third trimester. The answer was plain: " Driving always carries the risk of having an accident, whether the driver is pregnant or not, it is up to you to weigh up that risk. As long as it is comfortable, you can get in a car right up until the end of your pregnancy. I would certainly rather you drive than walk everywhere!"**

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*I tell myself that this is a good sign for a writer, even if it does make me sound completely neurotic.

**BTW, Chris's 'but' was, he claims, that although he didn't agree with his father and wasn't trying to justify him in anyway, he probably was right that the steering wheel imposes a greater risk on the baby in an accident than not - than, in otherwords, being in an accident in the passenger seat. He wasn't saying that meant I shouldn't drive, just that technically his Dad was probably right about that. Whatever. A but is still a but.

Sick again! and at 37.5 weeks...

So, I'm 37.5 weeks pregnant and sick again! I can't believe it after having not properly recovered from the last cold when I started mat leave 3.5 weeks ago. Damnit damnit damnit. Liam gave it to me, of course, but whereas he had one day of being a bit subdued (Wednesday) and aside from that has had a snotty nose, I have the aches, mild fever/chills, sinus ache, lots of snottiness and am generally miserable. Spent most of the day hiding in bed.

And, I've been having (I think) sort of false labour contractions on and off. Not often enough to make me think anything is going to happen anytime soon really, but enough to make me think it might. And right now would clearly not be such a good time - what with me being sick, and my Mum being away, and we haven't had our second meeting with the doula yet (cutting it a bit fine I know, but we only just discovered her). Of course, I don't really remember what contractions felt like from last time, and I certainly didn't have any before hand (maybe I had some Braxton-Hicks without knowing that was what I was feeling, but these ones actually hurt), but I think that's what they are. Or maybe it's just the baby moving around a lot and whatnot. That can be uncomfortable enough!

Anyway, Liam was 38 weeks, so I've been thinking it could be sometime soon, and feeling quite excited about it (despite the continuing state of disorganisation in our house - though *finally* today all the renovation-type work is finished), but now I'm suggesting to the baby that holding off for another week or better yet two could be a good idea.

The planting of Liam's apple tree

When I left work a few weeks ago (two? three? it seems like a lifetime ago already) my lovely colleagues bought me some gifts. They cleverly called Chris for ideas (found his mobile number on his so-called website) and ended up buying an apple tree and a bookshop gift voucher. The voucher I am greedily saving for now; I'm always like that with vouchers. But the apple tree we just planted out - over Liam's four-and-a-bit year old placenta.

Yep, it's been sitting in the freezer all this time, waiting for us to buy an apple tree. So while on the one hand it seems slightly odd to use the apple tree that was bought as a gift for me because of the baby I shall soon give birth too, it also seems most appropriate that Liam's placenta should be planted out before the next one arrives. And it was nice that he is old enough to have some idea of what we were on about. So that apple tree, while it was bought as a gift for me, will henceforth be known as Liam's apple tree.

May it bear loads and loads of fruit and bring great blessings to the world - just as Liam is already doing.

Taking it all in hand

When I say I am feeling a little overwhelmed, what I am mostly referring to is the state of my house. All the outings we've had lately (birth refresher classes, information evening and tour of Liam's school to be, calm birthing refreshers etc, not to mention Chris spending last weekend in Sydney) would be easier to handle if our house wasn't in such a state.

Over the past couple-few months (I can't remember now when it started, but it was a few weeks before Easter I guess) we've been having a lot of work done on our house. Not really renovations as such, but still fairly disruptive - things like having an ensuite toilet put into the massage room (sorry, Rolfing Studio), having all the outside woodwork repainted, the deck fixed up and repainted, the gutting replaced & water tanks put in, other various outside bits fixed up (roof ridgecapping, gables etc), and then inside we've had shelves put into cupboards (finally we have a linen closet and more kitchen shelves and a place to put brooms/mops etc in the laundry), the back door (which was really an indoor door and was rottting) replaced, a hole patched in the living room ceiling and a falling down ceiling panel rescrewed and most recently (as in yesterday) the living room/dining room/front entrance hall painted. We had painted a couple of the walls ourselves starting with a big long one that has since had large bookshelves fixed to it (hence the need to get it painted) right before Liam was born. Since then we've been living with a two mustardy-yellow walls and the rest pink.

Of course what all this means is that we've had the yard filled with rubbish (it's amazing how much rubbish all that produced) and tools and ladders, and various messes in the house for too long. Most of the yard is finally cleaned up now (though the plumbing for the toilet has still not been inspected, weeks after it was finished, so we still have a big hole in the ground), but the of course to compensate we had to empty out the living room etc yesterday - all the pics on the walls, all the toys, all the books in the front entrance hall (not the ones on the wall we already painted thank goodness), etc. So all that is now littering the spare room/study and the massage room.

However, I've decided it's time I took it all in hand. My plan for today is to put as many of the pics back on the walls today as I can (need to buy some more picture hooks as some of them were just sitting on nails the previous owners had left), and iron/wash all singlets etc we painted at the T-shirt party/baby shower my mum had for me a few weeks ago. (Plus the few sets of new baby clothes people couldn't resist buying, even though they were instructed not to!). And maybe I'll even sort through some of the zillions of hand-me-down baby clothes (with an amazing preponderance of pink) we've been given, but I don't want to over plan and end up exhausted and disappointed with not getting it all done.

I would also like to write a couple more coffee break columns for Canberrakids (yes, a foolish time to take on a new commitment, but I did it anyway - they are looking for more contributors though, not necessarily regular ones either, so if you are in Canberra and a parent...) before the baby comes (I've written a few to be going on with), but... we'll see. My Sunday writing time this week is out, since we have a birthday party to go, & next Friday I don't get my morning off because my Mum (at whose house I shall shortly be dropping Liam, hence my plan for a productive day) is going to be away. So I shall simply do what I can, and hope it's enough to keep my sanity.

Pregnancy update - 36 weeks

I'll be 36 weeks pregnant tomorrow. That means it's about 2 weeks till the point when Liam was born. All along I've been figuring this baby will be born sometime between 37 and 39 weeks (though I also figured I'd get successfully pregnant a little more quickly than I did!), so it's getting pretty close. Of course, the midwives like to remind me that there's no guarantee this one won't go to 41 weeks, but I hope not.

I don't remember feeling so over it all with Liam - in fact when I realised at 37 weeks that I could now go into labour at any time without it being considered early it was a bit of a shock. But this time I feel pretty ready to have the baby out and in my arms. Mostly because of the muscle strain and because I am just so uncomfortable a lot of the time.

On the other hand I don't want anything happening too quickly - my Mum is going to be away the weekend after next (ie when I am 37 weeks) for a few days, so I don't want to go into labour then, as she planning to look after Liam for us. And I still have much to do in terms of lunches and cleaning and maybe even some relaxing in there - somehow things seem to have been rather hectic since I started maternity leave, which was not the plan at all! I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all truth to tell.

Still, I do sometimes remember what a priviledge it is to be pregnant, especially when I am (occasionally) able to get into a comfortable position lying down and am feeling the baby move. I seem to know more and more people who are having trouble falling pregnant - and someone close to me recently had a miscarriage after trying for over a year to get pregnant. I am very grateful to be where I am and not where I was nine months ago, wondering if it would ever happen.

The meaning of bliss

I am now on maternity leave. Yippee!!!

The dreaded lurgy, or, Getting ready part II - all the things that are not going to be done in time!

It's my second last week of work before mat leave and I'm off sick. About which I do feel a little guilty, but what can you do? At dinner on Friday night I started to notice a slight tickle in my throat and within two hours I was completely gone.

On Sunday I was feeling better already, and got up (though admittedly late) on Monday morning with every intention of going to work.  I was half way there before I realised what an idiot I was being, and turned around and came home. Just as well because by Monday afternoon I felt completely like crap again. And aside from anything else I do hate it when other people bring their nasty germs into work and spread them around.

On the upside for the weekend, I did complete a second draft of that story I wrote for uni - the one I thought maybe wasn't worth continuing with - and I'm pretty happy with it now (did most of that on Sunday). Which is just as well since my deadline was for this coming Sunday, and I still have to finalise the other assignment too, although I think it's mostly okay as is.

This is particularly good because I've been starting to feel quite stressed lately about all my self-imposed deadlines. In my head I need to have everything done not just before the baby comes, but before I go on maternity leave (ie Thursday next week). Everything being: the story & paper for uni; a clean house (ha!) and clean and tidy bedroom - my plan being not to get out of bed (this time) in the first days after the baby's born just because someone (say the midwife) is coming over*; all the baby clothes dug out of boxes, washed and placed in drawers (I've done some of this, but I'm sure there must be another box somewhere); the two boxes of stuff that came out of the hallway closet recently (before we had shelves put in) either repatriated with the closet or thrown/given away; the last year or so of filing done, and our financial books got up to date, so that we can do next year's taxes easily and simply early in the new financial year.

There's probably more, but that is a good portion of it.** And you know what, the filing/book-keeping stuff is still stressing me, but the rest of it not so much. Maybe it's because I'm sick and so I just don't care, but I think it's because I've got the uni stuff under control, and that was the main worry. And especially that I'm relatively happy with the story which a week ago I thought might be unworkably bad.

I'd still like to do all those other things, and in addition I'd like to finish a different story and submit it to Literary Mama's 'Desiring Motherhood' issue (deadline is the end of June), but you know what? Most of it probably won't happen. Because the fact is my 'before mat leave' deadline, while somewhat aribitary (chances are the baby won't come for another four or more weeks after that), was also sort of real. In fact it's still nearly two weeks away, but already I am incapable of doing a lot of that stuff - especially anything involving bending/lifting - even filing - without a lot of the belly pain I mentioned. Plus there's the fact that Chris may be away the Sunday-Monday after I go on mat leave, and will be away the following weekend.

But right now I think that's all okay. As long as the filing/bookkeeping gets done (and I must admit that is a big if) everything else will be okay. In fact, I'm rather over getting ready now. If it weren't for the fact that of course I don't want my baby to be premature, I'd be hoping for contractions to start any minute. I am beyond ready.

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*Which isn't to say I won't get out of bed at all, just that last time I missed out on naps I could have had, because I felt the insane need to be up and dressed just because someone might be coming over.

**Of course there's more: I haven't written out a birth plan or bought a baby book yet (or indeed seen one that I would be remotely willing to use), I haven't got a present ready for Liam to celebrate the birth of 'his' baby, I haven't even called the woman I've been meaning to talk to about a refresher in hypnobirthing/calm birthing... there's heaps more.