Sunday, April 30, 2006

Lumi's Back!

For those of you who followed the trials and tribulations of Lumi at Illumination, Maybe?, you'll be pleased to know that she has a new home on the web at Urban Drool, where you'll find frequent mentions of "donkeys balls"and the truth about what its like to be a WMWAFN.*

Go give the girl some lovin'.

Working Mother With A Fucking Newborn.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Oh Brother, Where Art Thy Brains?

Dear Brother,

What part of "I'm not keen on doing lunch for several hours when I've just had a baby" did you not fully understand when you booked a table for 8 for next Sunday and assumed that we'd all be there?

I cant actually bring myself to respond politely to his email, so I just wont respond. After yesterday's post describing my day can you really see us sitting peacefully in the restaurant of a dodgy bogan pub for Sunday lunch? Nope. Me neither.

Its bad enough that I feel I HAVE to go and see my parents this week to introduce Spud to them. Hopefully he's still young enough that he'll have no memory of the occasion. Its a fairly safe bet, since he has trouble remembering where he left his hand...

Friday, April 28, 2006

Day In The Life

It occurred to me today that I havent written anything of substance about day-to-day life with the Spud. Possibly because I'm too busy living it to write about it, possibly because I dont want to scare the bejeebus out of people who are about to join the ranks of the permanently sleep-deprived. However, if I dont write any of this stuff down I'm likely to forget what it was like, and start to say stupid stuff like "it wasnt that bad honey, lets have another one..."

So here's a brief run-down of a typical day in Pandaland:

4am: Spud starts snuffling. I wake up and hope he'll put himself back to sleep.

4.30: Spud starts screaming. Obviously not going back to sleep then. Feed Spud, with incredibly painful and overflowing boobs.

5.00am: finish feed. Wake Monkey Boy to change his nappy. Spud's, not Monkey Boy's.

5.15: feed again.

5.30. Hope the sleeping nugget stays asleep as I put him back in his hammock. 50/50 chance he'll ed up in our bed, cradled in my arms.

8.00 Spud stirs again. Feed, change nappy. Get up. Cup of tea awaits me in the loungeroom. Feed again.

8.30: drink cup of tea. If lucky, eat muesli.

9.00: pump breastmilk. Hop online.

9.30 - 1.00pm feed, change feed, strap screaming baby in Hugabub. Settle. If lucky get to brush teeth. If really lucky get to have shower, get dressed, put SHOES on and take tablets. If not at all lucky, feed, change, feed, try to settle, feed, scream, feed, change, feed, hand over to Monkey Boy and consider running away from home.

1.00-3.00: usually asleep if he's in the hugabub. Lie down on couch with riveting daytime teevee or read. Ocasionally I've been known to nod off. Try to organise something lunchy. Put on a load of washing.

3.00-5.00:feed, change, feed, settle, feed...etc. Watch Bold & The Beautiful with Spud. Discuss Ridge & Brooke's future and wonder when Stephanie will just die already.

5.00-6.00 feed, change, feed.

6.00: think about dinner. Screaming starts again.

6-9pm: screaming. Spud also screaming. Somewhere in here we get to eat, but not at the same time. Spud demands food constantly, but wont attach properly. Screams when not on the boob. Walk around house with Spud. Bounce Spud. Change Spud. Feed Spud. Rock Spud. Cry. Get angry. Think about running away from home again.

9pm: go to bed, exhausted. Feed Spud in bedroom. Rock him for about 20 minutes after feeding. Put him in hammock. Creep into bed. Pray he doesnt wake. If lucky, he stays asleep til 4am. If unlucky, he wakes, wants more food, screams, and usually gets a bottle of expressed breast milk after which he sleeps like...a baby.

I read this back and forgive myself for getting all twitchy and emotional and crazed by the end of the day because its damn repetitive and damn hard work. At the same time I realise that I am so bloody lucky to have Monkey Boy here 24/7 to help carry the load. He can and does take Spudly when I cant deal with the screaming anymore, when I need to have a shower or when I just need to lie down and rest for a little while. He does get up at 4.30 every morning to change the pooey nappy and changes the majority of them during the day too. He makes me cups of tea and yummy food and does most of the housework. He's keeping Spudly entertained right now so I can do something as seemingly trivial as posting on my blog, but which we both realise keeps me sane so it will keep everyone else sane too.

So there's the bare bones of my life right now. Later on I'll fill in the blanks. Luckily, they're the bits with all the good stuff in them.

Like this:

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

You What?

Its been far too long between posts about my mother. I'm suffering high-drama withdrawal symptoms.

As are you all, I'm sure.

The day after Spud was born, in what was the first and last conversation I had with her since his birth, the following exchange took place:

Mother: I still havent been told you know.
Me: Yes you have.
Mother: No I havent.
Me: Yes you have. N told you last night.
Mother: YOU havent told me. When N told me he'd arrived the night before I was absolutely livid.
Me: I've been in labour for 3 days and I'm exhausted. Do you really think I need this right now?
Mother (all high-and-mighty): Now listen Panda...
Me: Fuck off, mum. Just fuck off.

Really, I need someone to be pissed off with me because I didn't personally ring them the second my child was born when I've just been through some kind of emotional and physical hell and since then have been worried that said child is okay and not about to die because he got a lungfull of poo. How inconsiderate of me not to drop everything and pay attention to how my sociopath mother is feeling neglected by not being the centre of my universe.

She rang us the day we got home from the hospital, ostensibly to apologise, but Monkey Boy assures me that the words "I'm sorry I'm such a self-centred cow" did not pass her lips. Nor did the words "congratulations", "how are you?", or "how's Spudly?"



One day, I'm sure Spudly will come across my blog files on some antiquated technology called a cd-rom and have a conniption about the fact that these photos have been published for the entire world to see.

Maybe it makes me a bad mother that, despite the undoubted damage such knowledge will do to his psyche, I choose to publish them anyway.

I'd rather regard it as being unbearably besotted with the cutest baby in the world and dying to share him with everyone.

I also want to remind myself that even though he can be the devil incarnate most evenings...

he is in fact a perfect angel...

when he's asleep.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Practical Parenting 101

As much as I crapped on about having a Crunchy Granola Birth Plan and had Grand Ideas about being the ultimate Earth Mother, reality, it seems, has other ideas.

Intellectually I knew that having a brand new baby would be all feeding, changing nappies, feeding, no sleep, crying (baby and me) sore nipples, nauseum. I knew this. I didnt have unrealistic expectations about how the baby would be perfect and just coo and go to sleep when I wanted him to. It was going to be hard work.

What I didnt know, what I couldn't prepare for, was how it would make me feel. There is no way you can possibly know how the endless screaming at the end of the day is going to make you feel about your baby, about yourself, about your abilities to cope and about whether this parenthood thing was a Good Idea. I couldnt prepare myself for how the endless feeding would make me feel like a machine rather than a person, and I couldnt prepare for the fact that such horrors as "For fucks sake kid, just bloody go to sleep" would actually come out of my mouth.

I also couldnt prepare for the fact that these baby things have tricksy and wiley ways. One minute I'd gladly leave him out for kerbside recycling and the next he gives me That Look and I'd kill anyone who said a word against him, and I'm locking the car doors in case anyone tries to steal him.

Its been the steepest learning curve of my life, without any time off to review what I've learned, subject matter that seems to change every day, and with no feedback from the teacher apart from wet nappies, screaming and heartbreakingly cute smiles.

I guess the biggest signifier of how I'm doing is that he's eating, pooing, weeing, farting, growing and interacting, and I feel more love for him than I ever thought possible.

By Popular Request

Oh I know, you want to see more piccies of the Spudly One. I'm not very organised right now, but here's a couple.

Here he is checking out Daddy. Yup, that's right son, Daddy's funny lookin'.

And here he is all sacked out and asleep (huzzah!) in the Hug-a-Bub wrap. Absolutely THE most essential Baby Acoutrement we have. I pop him in and even if he's screaming he settles and sleeps within 5 minutes. Check them out here.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

You May Have Noticed...

For those of you who still live in the Dark Ages and use Internet Explorer to gad about (for shaaame), you will please note that I have finally managed to find the problem with my sidebar links.

Stupid html. Who knew that you had to close tags?

I'll be playing around with the blog format for a little while I think. I've been blogging for almost a year and that plus the addition of a small, somewhat fermenting potato to the household indicates this to be a good time for a spring clean.

If anyone has any suggestions for how the new improved Pandamonium should look, please feel free to comment.

And I will get around to writing baby-related stuff. Honest.

He's still cute, by the way.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Ten Great Things About Babies

1. They smell so clean.

2. They have cute little pudgy hands.

3. They smile when they pass wind.

4. Their skin is the softest thing you will ever feel in your life.

5. They can be so relaxed that you have to keep checking they're breathing.

6. You see yourself in another human being.

7. They are infinitely cuddle-able.

8. They make fantastic snuffle-wuffle snonking noises.

9. They look at you like they Know Things.

10. No-one else will ever need you as much as they do.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

The Harvesting of a Spud Part Two

Much much later…

I write this one week after his birth, so the details are probably going to be sketchy at best.

Three or four hours after the first Pethidine shot I had another, about 7am I think, but I kept needing the gas for every contraction. Around 9am I was examined again, and my cervix was dilated to 2cm, and it was decided that it was necessary to break my waters and start the Syntocinon drip to get things moving. My body just wasn’t co-ordinating the contractions at all. All pain, and no gain. I had the intensity, frequency and length of proper full-blown labour contractions, but they just weren’t achieving anything.

I was exhausted, Spudly was getting tired, and we needed to speed things up. The drug I though I would never agree to was the only thing left on offer. I knew with the Syntocinon that the contractions would just get worse, so I agreed to an epidural. I have to say I was scared. The last time I had a needle go into my back it damaged my sciatic nerve. This was going in next to my spinal cord, and without CT guidance. I hunched over on the side of the bed, gripping Monkey Boy’s hand and experienced some pain as the needle and tube went in, but after half an hour or so I could feel nothing from my belly button down. It was a horrible sensation: I couldn’t move the lower half of my body yet I could feel that it was numb. I remember touching something that felt like a lump of meat and then realised it was me. This was the point of the labour at which I lost control of what was happening.

As soon as the epidural had taken effect, my waters were broken, a catheter inserted and the Syntocinon drip started. Hardly any amniotic fluid came out, which was a concern. A scalp clip was attached to Spudly’s head to monitor his heart rate more accurately and constantly. I ended up with 6 tubes/cables hanging off me: the scalp clip, the CTG to measure contractions, the catheter, the IV fluids, the Syntocinon drip and the epidural line. I was wired up, confined to bed and no longer in control of my own body. I hated it.

I guess it was a couple of hours after the Syntocinon drip started that Spudly’s heart rate started dropping. I had to lie on my side half-propped or it would drop alarmingly to around 60-80bpm. Then I’d have to move around, sit up, turn over until it came back up to 140bpm again. This was the pattern for the rest of the labour. Unfortunately for me this meant that I had to lie in the worst possible position for my back, which went into major spasm right above the epidural block. There was nothing that could be done for the pain. It was like having my spinal injury all over again.

The rest of the day was a blur of pain and trying to turn over without control over the lower half of my body, coupled with relief at not feeling the contractions that the CTG showed were incredibly intense and coming every 2 minutes. They were much more intense than what I had already experienced, so I was very grateful for the epidural from that perspective. By late afternoon or early evening I decided to try sitting up with my legs dangling over the side of the bed and lying sideways on a pile of pillows to alleviate my back pain. It worked, mostly. Spudly’s heart rate didn’t drop as frequently and the pain was somewhat lessened. My feet and ankles started swelling though, and the skin was stretched to the point of being shiny. It was a very bizarre sensation.

Around dinner time I was examined again and I was fully dilated and fully effaced. I was told I could start pushing whenever I had the urge. We decided to not use the epidural infusion anymore so that I could regain some sensation and co-ordinate my pushing. I wanted to get my legs back so I could kneel and push him out on my own. The CTG showed the contractions slowing down, and I asked the midwife “so, this is transition then?” She thought it was hilarious that I could ask so matter-of-factly.

I started feeling some pressure, but I still couldn’t feel any contractions. Jessie (the midwife) helped me to coordinate the pushing process with the feelings of pressure and the contractions on the CTG, but I couldn’t feel the muscles I needed to use to push effectively. I got it right a few times, but mostly I was pushing aimlessly. I did manage to get his head a little further down though, so I felt like I was achieving something, no matter how small. I kept hoping the epidural would wear off quicker so I could get off my side and onto my knees.

I don’t know what time it was, probably around 9pm I’m guessing, when all of a sudden the room was full of people, most of whom I’d never seen before. One of the doctors I’d seen earlier was trying to get me to push effectively but I just couldn’t do it. She was very brusque and said that it was hopeless and that I wasn’t able to do it on my own and we would have to do a forceps delivery.

I freaked. My first reaction was that I was doing my best but what do you bloody well expect of someone when they cant feel a damn thing with the part of their body they need the most? I was getting very angry and totally overwhelmed. They wanted me to lie on my back and this was just going to cause me enormous amounts of pain because of the spasms. Monkey Boy and Jessie tried to explain this to the doctor and no-one seemed to be getting it that more epidural wouldn’t help the situation. The anaesthetist was brought down immediately and didn’t answer my questions, and wanted to talk to me when I had an intense bearing down urge. I ended up agreeing to a top up on the epidural because I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. I kept getting more and more angry and scared. Monkey Boy made lots of noise about getting the bystanders out of the room, but we still ended up with half a dozen people there.

I remember having the overwhelming urge to get up and leave. If only my legs worked! I was furious that this was happening. I totally lost the plot when the stirrups came out of the cupboard. Here I was, with the extensive Earth Mother Active Labour birth plan, confined to bed, strapped to monitors and IV lines, with my legs in stirrups, flat on my back with my baby about to be pulled from me under bright lights while NINE strangers watched. I cried and cried and cried. All of a sudden our peaceful delivery suite, which we had made a home away from home, was turned into an operating theatre.

I didn’t feel the forceps go in, but suddenly there was an incredible pulling sensation and I was told to push. I pushed with everything I had, and there was much in the way of encouragement to keep pushing from Monkey Boy and the midwives. I think I had to push really hard about three times, then I was told to pant. I remember thinking I was going to run out of air if I had to pant for much longer. Then without any warning there was a baby on my stomach. A huge, wet, red-and-yellow-covered goopy baby. I was completely startled by this little person that had appeared out of nowhere. I held him, crying, for what seemed like only a few seconds before he was taken to the resuscitation table. He made only one squawk, and I couldn’t see him because the Paediatrician was blocking my view. All I could think about was the fact that my baby was on the other side of the room, surrounded by people and not making any noise. That was the longest 5 minutes of my life. Someone told me he had done a big poo on the way out and inhaled some meconium so he needed suctioning and would have to be taken to the NICU for observation.

I felt the placenta slide out of my body, and I asked for them to keep it for us to take home. The doctor showed it to us and I couldn’t believe how big it was. There was hardly any amniotic fluid at all, and that explained why Spudly’s heart rate was dipping so much. I had a second degree tear which needed stitching, and the doctor was trying to tell me how to look after the area but all I could think about was my friend David whose daughter had died at two days old after inhaling meconium. I desperately wanted my baby in my arms and why was this taking so long and why wasn’t he making any noise?

It was about 15 or 20 minutes before he was given back to me and we got to look at our beautiful boy properly. He looked exactly like the 3D ultrasound photo we had in the room with us. He was still goopy, he had a full head of dark brown hair, his hands and feet were huge and grey, and his entire body was covered with dry flaky skin. He was very much a well-cooked Spud. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life. He was unbelievably soft, and smelled of the sea.

We were able to hold him for a while before he was taken to the NICU. The paediatrician told us he was doing really well but they needed to observe his respiration for a couple of hours. Before he was taken I managed to breastfeed him for a short while, and he seemed to know what he was supposed to do right away. Monkey Boy went with him to the NICU and for 5 minutes I guess I was alone in the delivery room. It was a surreal moment. After the chaos of the delivery I was on my own, with no baby and no husband. It felt so wrong. We should have all been together but I wasn’t allowed to move until the epidural had worn off.

By midnight I had enough feeling in my legs to be able to be moved onto the ward. About half an hour later Spudly was brought in to us wrapped up nice and snug and pronounced perfectly healthy. His Apgar scores were 8 at 1 minute and 9 at 5 minutes and he was breathing well, though a little snuffly. Finally, after 18 months of trying to conceive, 9 months of worrying whether this pregnancy would last and then 3 days of labour, little Spudly was with us. Perfect. Soft. Healthy. Our son. How he got here no longer mattered.

We were a family at last, and we were blessed.

The Harvesting of a Spud Part One

Okay, here it is: How The Spud Was Harvested in two exciting installments, because not even the most die-hard Spudly fan could be bothered reading through 6 pages of this stuff in one sitting.

The first part is taken straight from my journal entries that I made in the hospital. The second part is from memory, so there's bound to be bits I've missed/forgotten/blocked out.


Tuesday April 4

Spudly is now 8 days late with no signs of movement at the station, so its time for an induction. I don’t know what I feel. A million different things all rolled into one, no doubt, that together make my brain go “lalalala”.

Last night was the last time we went to bed without a baby next to us. This morning is the last time we have breakfast in bed as non-parents. I don’t even know how I feel about that since what comes next is such a huge unknown. Today we step into the void. I hope its nice to us.

Arrived at the hospital at 3pm. Had CTG at 4ish. Cervidil (a tampon-like tape impregnated with prostaglandins) went in at 4.30. Spudly’s heart rate started going up, and up, and up, to a baseline of 180bpm. The staff start panicking, and out comes the Cervidil. 2 hours of more CTG monitoring and his heart rate is back to normal at 145bpm. The doctor tells me that if we had used gels instead of Cervidil he would have had to do a c-section immediately. Fuck.

So now he’s settled down, and I’ll be examined again in a couple of hours to see if the membranes can be ruptured tonight or in the morning. We’re not sure what happens after that, especially if they cant do an ARM. Possibly another try at Cervidil. If I cant use prostaglandins, we’re looking at a c-section.

I wont think about that now. The is the Scarlett O’Hara school of labouring. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

Wednesday 5 April


Had another internal at 11pm last night. My cervix has softened and shortened but I’m still only 1cm dilated. CTG trace was fine, so at 11.50pm they put the Cervidil back in. And OH.MY.GOD did that hurt. I think I nearly broke Monkey Boy’s hand. The trace afterwards was perfect, so they are sure that he’s not reacting to the prostaglandins, but that it was a combination of factors that pushed his heart rate up previously.

The plan now: get some sleep and in the morning have my waters broken.


Woke up at 2.45am. Started having intense period pain that didn’t seem to ease up at all for 45mins. Called midwife. Woke up Monkey Boy. Contractions are officially 3 minutes apart.

The midwife suggested I try a shower to ease the pain. Glorious wonderful shower! As soon as the water hit my back the pain eased. I love that shower. I think I stayed in there for about an hour.


Managed to get 2 1/2 hours sleep. CTG at 7am showed Spudly still happy, and I’m having contractions about 5 minutes apart, lasting 30seconds.

Internal exam showed his head has moved down a little., but he is now posterior presentation, with his back against mine. He’s decided to turn over NOW after all this time being anterior? Difficult child. The cervix has shortened a little and dilated a little. But for having had 9 hours of Cervidil it hasn’t done anywhere near what it should. The only good thing is that at least I am contracting, and Spudly is happy. The doctor attempted ARM but couldn’t get the crochet hook up there. She tried to stretch the cervix a little which is about as much fun as…something that isn’t fun at all. Words fail me. It fucking hurt.

Will be re-examined at 12pm. Am going for a walk soon.

Thursday April 6


Went for that walk yesterday, which got the contractions going quite well. We wandered down to the kiosk at the main entrance to the hospital, which is a marathon effort when you are having contractions every 3 minutes along the way. Several people asked if I was alright when I had to stop suddenly and hang off Monkey Boy.

Unfortunately, sometime close to midday the Cervidil fell out, Yes, fell out. So another painful internal and another Cervidil went in at 1pm. That makes three. Unheard of, apparently.

Intense contractions started pretty much straight away. And I mean INTENSE. Much longer and stronger than before. They really are indescribable. At some point it just got too much - they were coming fast and furious. Hot packs and showers weren’t helping, and the bath that I was so sure I would use and love was horrible. I felt disconnected and confined, and it did nothing to ease the pain. So much for my Earth Mother idea of a water birth!

I caved and had the gas. The second contraction I had while using it, I made the mistake of holding my breath for too long and ended up in fits of uncontrollable giggles right through the next contraction. I think I started the gas around 7.30pm. Time started getting a bit hazy around this stage.

Contractions were now up to a minute long and about 2 minutes apart. They felt like a giant hand was squeezing me around my abdomen. Because Spud is posterior, my back is bearing the brunt of the pain. For each contraction, Monkey Boy pushes on my lower back to counteract the pressure. I lost it several times, crying and saying I couldn’t do it. Monkey Boy kept bringing me back to focus on my breathing, and on the 3d photo of Spudly we have with us.

By 10.30pm I was exhausted. I cant stand or sit, so the only position I can tolerate is on all fours, either on the ball or beanbag. Standing makes the contractions unbearable. I’ve taken the seat cushion off the couch and kneel on that with my body draped over the ball, rocking back and forth with each contraction while I inhale for all its worth on the gas. Its like breathing in pain. Another internal was done, this time by the midwife which is far less painful that the others and the cervix has done nothing. 1cm dilated. Soft. Posterior. Not ARM-able.

And so we decide to go for the Pethidine. The gas wasn’t cutting it and certainly wouldn’t keep up throughout the night. And I need to rest.

So Pethidine - my new friend - has relaxed me and taken the edge off the pain. Though I must say that the injection hurt just as much as the contractions. Now I shall try to rest if not sleep, and we shall see where we go to from here. But Spudly will definitely be born today, one way or another. The doctors will not let me go another night. I have to face the prospect of having a c-section again since the prostaglandin is just not working, and when told this I completely lose the plot. My brain cannot handle to prospect of being operated on whilst awake. Monkey Boy holds me while I cry from fear.

Friday, April 14, 2006

He Sleeps

While the little screaming devil child angel is asleep, I can take this opportunity to both pump breast milk and post some piccies.

Shit. Or not. Obviously he knew I just called him a devil child. Devil children would sense these things. So Spud comes surfing with Panda.

I have to say its been a very difficult week since Spud was born. Its hard to believe he's a week old. It seems more like one v.e.r.y l.o.n.g day.

I will post my birth story. I started keeping notes in the hospital of what was happening, but after the second pethadine shot I lost the will or ability or both to write anymore. Suffice to say, there was little in the way of granola, and it will be a long story.

To tide you over til then, have a squiz at the cutest baby in history.

Our first family photo, about half an hour after delivery.

4 hours old.

36 hours old.

Look at that cute little bundle. He loves curling up just like a hedgehog.

All snugged up and ready to come home, in the knitted cardigan his father wore home from hospital and the blanket his great-grandmother knitted especially for him.

Friday, April 07, 2006

and then there were three...

Panda and the Monkey are pleased to announce after 67 hours of labour (are those calculations correct? Anyways it was a darned long time! - Ed.) the safe arrival of the spudley one!! hooray!

Born at 9:43pm on April 6th weighing 3.94 kg and 52 cm's long.

"Baby perfect, mother shattered, father delirious."

Well done PANDA!! wow! You can procreate! what else can you do??!

Love you both.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

the minx is back...

hi folks. i'm really the worst person for this job... not only am i in a part of the world where there are a load of storms lately which means i have no power and no computer is a piece of poo... and i'm not really sure which bits i'm supposed to be posting and which bits i'm not... so heres the latest update from 11:56pm last night...

from the phone of the wench, sparklepanda, herself...

"Having contractions 3 mins apart, very painful, since 1pm, threw away birth plan at 4pm, no cervical dilation, on gas and pethadine, me likee pethadine. spud too damn comfy, doesn't want to leave" there you have it folks. more soon. xJ

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Baby Steps

Spudly remains enamoured with his current abode, so an eviction notice will be served at 3pm today. I should be having gels shoved up my clacker around 4pm and having a baby sometime after that.

I dont know how I'm feeling about any of this. I think its a million different and conflicting things that when put together just make my brain go "lalalalala not listening". That will do.

I kinda feel like I did when I went on the flying trapeze at the Fringe Festival a few years ago. I really wanted to do it to get over my terror of heights. (Well, that and I was Under The Influence of some substance or another...) Climbing up the ladder I kept talking myself into doing it but by the time I got to the top I took one look at the dude and said "I have no idea why I'm doing this." I can recall that exact feeling even now. I really felt like I was going to die. It was sheer unadulterated terror. Adam says he expects me to start screaming "I wanna get off, I wanna get off" at any moment. Probably during transition.

We had a relaxing day yesterday - went out for lunch (the Last Supper), I had a nice glass of wine, we raided the library for several weeks worth of light reading, came home and did some baking for the freezer. Banana, carrot and apple muffins. Yummy. Then we ate half the baked goods before they were cool enough to freeze. Quality Control. You understand.

I've never given a great deal of thought to the actual having a baby part of pregancy. By which I mean the "now he's here what do we do with him" bit. I've thought no end about the "Will I Ever Get Pregnant" part, and about the "Will This Pregnancy Last" part and the "Will The Baby Be Okay" part. I've even thought about the "How Is He Getting Out, Exactly?" part, though with almost no consideration of medical intervention since That Wasnt Going To Happen To Me.

Now I find myself faced with the medical intervention I didnt ever think about, and the prospect of an actual baby who will ge given to me to bring home and be responsible for. This is quite a surprise to me, since I am the Queen of Considering Every Possibility. I love contingency plans. I never wake up without one. I dont know how this managed to get past me. Possibly because I never thought that we would actually get to this point, possibly because to think about it before now would have been putting too much faith in things going right. And we know what happens when you listen to Hope. Sooner or later she turns into Princess Gina and then your life is in the toilet again.

So I've had a few freakout moments over the last 24 hours, regarding the birth and - more importantly - parenthood. Mostly because this is something that I cant be totally prepared for: there arent enough contingency plans in the world to make me feel comfortable with what is about to happen. And I dont like that. What I have to make myself do though, and this is the hardest part, is to stop looking at the big picture and focus on the here and now. This minute. Like Spudly will be doing every day, I have to learn to take baby steps.

As I leap into the void, I know I take with me the support of so many amazing women. To those of you who have followed me on this journey, offered a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, held the metaphorical punching bag, and become actual friends, Monkey Boy and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Stay tuned. The Minx will keep you updated by taking over my blog again, and she may even be able to post a piccie or two.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Ummmmm... *UPDATED*

I woke up at 4.04am feeling like absolute shite, on the verge of tears because - yet again - I'm still pregnant. I lay there for just under an hour, when my bladder definately started to get the better of me. Stupid bladder.

Stumbled off to the loo.

Peed an extraordinary amount of fluid.


No doubt about it. That's a mucous plug. A goopy, gel-like, blood-tinged mucous plug.

I thought I should share.

Monkey Boy is still fast asleep. I cant see much point in waking him.

May this herald good news when we trundle in to the hospital today for the final CTG.


The CTG was fine. As always, he's pronounced a happy healthy baby who likes to move alot.

Unfortunately it did not show me having any contractions. Not a one. Depsite the fact that it sure as hell felt to me like I was having them. Consequently, if these are not real contractions, I'm not interested in continuing further with this deal.

It was agreed that "having a show" was a good sign, but that ultimately it didnt mean jack shit about when I would actually start labour. Could be today, could be in two weeks. So we were sent home.

And told to come back in on Tuesday for the induction.

Can I go get drunk now?
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...