so last time I posted here I was preparing for the following day to give birth to our daughter via caesarean section. I will post on the events of the big day and the days since in coming posts but for now I just wanted to say we are home. willy wonka and his trusty gumboot wearing sidekick – the pediatrician – declared us both fit and well to come home on tuesday which was a huge relief for me since I had begun skulking the corridors of the maternity ward looking for random people to talk to in the middle of the night. so tuesday morning we packed up the car and headed home, and we only had one or two minor carguments – that’s arguments had in the car for the uninitiated – that ended in me crying hormonal tears and my loving husband thinking he should probably just not say anything, at all, for a short period of time. he being the laid back one in this relationship was super cool about the journey home while I was a bundle of nervous energy and worried at everything….was she ok, had she stopped breathing, could he see her – it was best that he keep his eyes on the road I know but rational thought wasn’t uppermost in my mind – maybe I should sit in the back seat to make sure she is okay – scotty said don’t be ridiculous, are you going to sit in the back seat every time we go out? mmmm maybe….so my parentals had received my call earlier in the day asking them to pop down to our place and wear out Mr Rooben prior to our arrival so he wouldn’t be that bothered when we rocked up with our new family member. not bothered would be an understatement – it was three hours later when he finally realised there was a baby in the cot and he has not stopped sniffing her since. what he is good at is poo monitor. he smells it just as she deals it so not much chance of her sitting in it for too long with him around. fast forward to this afternoon when we arrived home from our first outing to the pub for lunch with my parentals – me half bent over from the surgery, my father with his arm in a cast from his surgery yesterday, what an awesome team we were. anyhoo so we get home and scotty takes lil Kenzi to change her bum since we have been out for a while and I am setting up the new toys in the kitchen when I hear the cry from the laundry – no not Kenzi, scotty – come quick he is yelling and I immediately think something dire is occurring only to rush in and find him holding our semi naked newborn aloft while wee and poo drip from her legs, onto the change mat and then onto the floor….he hadn’t put a towel down onto the mat before he started the change and once he picked her up there was nowhere to go but shout out for help. needless to say its been a learning curve for us both but I will give him his dues, he is having a go at the dad duties and while it might not all go to plan he is still pushing on – and letting me sleep, which is gold as far as I am concerned and in six months when he is asking for a new bike or some other new toy I will be hard pushed to say no…maybe he has already started angling…this morning he did mention the new iPhone that has come out mmmmm maybe….will have to see how the next couple of months play out…..
could government websites be more difficult to use? probably. medicare are no longer providing cash refunds to people so we now have no choice but to provide our bank details for direct credit of the refund. problem is you can either fill out a form with your account details on and hand into your medicare office – not keen on that due to my distrust in their record disposal methods OR you can register online. okay I choose that one….so I have just spent 44 minutes of life I wont get back trying without success to register online. try again later it tells me….and thats after I have already been redirected twice. I have to try again later cause there is a problem with the system. so here’s my tip aussie government – get your shit together prior to launching a major change in online services. it’s the five p’s kids – prior planning prevents poor performance. oh and here’s the other thing don’t assume that everyone utilising the online service is a regular at the GP…one of the questions is what date did you last visit a general practitioner??? NFI is not an accepted response…so you know what I am throwing my tits to the wind and am going to fill in the form and lodge it at medicare because it would appear that is the easiest option and when I have a spare day or two I will attempt to “try again later”. can’t wait til I have to register for paid maternity leave, better set aside a week for that one….
tomorrow is the day we get our prize….and I think we may be a little unprepared. many of the people around us peaked quite early on with their excitement of our impending arrival so we have purposely tried to remain level-headed and low key about it all – at times this has probably come across as indifference, oh well. I have enjoyed watching people’s different reactions to the comments my husband makes about our parenting decisions and the patronising pat on the shoulder followed by the “we’ll see” comments. we have all the basics to bring our baby home to and whatever we need after that will be easy enough to get but our lack of preparation is probably more evident in the way that today we just looked at each other and shared a laugh over the fact that today is our last day as just us – and Mr Rooben of course – but just Scott and Mika. tomorrow we two will be three and in all honesty I don’t think it matters if you have your first child in your 20’s, 30’s or even 40’s like me you still have no freaking idea what to do – I am just hoping that my age will help me manage the unexpected a bit better than I would have 20 years ago. maybe it will, maybe it wont. scott is going to have to learn how to hold his baby cause when he has ever held any of my besty’s kids it has been hilarious to watch as he holds them at arm’s length and says shhhhhh – parenting 101. I have always gone with the hand them back to mum when they get a bit whingey…ahhhh that’s not going to work with this one. the one thing that I do know for sure is that scott and I will be providing enough golden parenting moments to keep this blog going and to ensure people are amused, hey if you can’t laugh at yourself….
since I have started thinking about having the delivery via c section I have been thinking I wonder how it must feel to be the baby. one minute she will be just hanging out in the warm environment that has been home for 283 days the next she will be pulled out and inspected under the bright lights of the operating theatre surrounded by a team of unfamiliar faces – that she can’t see anyway – before she gets wrapped up and given back to me. no wonder they cry on arrival, she will feel the same way I do if its freezing cold and someone calls me 5 minutes before my alarm is due to go off….I just want that extra 5 minutes of warmth and comfort but once your out it takes too long to get back to that place so you may as well stay up. it would be weird if you could remember being born. surely if you went deep enough into a hypnotic state you would be able to draw on the memory or at least the feeling. having been born during the 70’s and the age of the power muff I am not sure I want to remember but my brother and I would be able to compare experiences as I was born naturally and my brother caesarean – he has a big head. mmmmm something to think about….
so yesterday in perth a 62-year-old dude on a surf ski was attacked by a great white – allegedly 3m long – and it bit the back of his ski. I think if it was serious and it was 3m long it would have finished the job but what struck me as interesting on the news last night was when the gent said he didn’t want the shark to be destroyed because “…it has as much right to be there as I do” sorry but last time I checked the shark is the only one who really has the right to be there and as humans we are the tourists. for the most part they let us enjoy their playground and sometimes they get bored and hungry so they chose to eat one of us. that’s the risk we take but if every time a shark has a pot shot at a human it runs the risk of being tracked down and destroyed I have to say that shit aint right. I am sure that families of people who have been taken by sharks would disagree but really in my mind unless I am taken by a shark in my own pool I have no right to destroy an animal that is doing what it’s instincts tell it to do. if he wants to see out 63 I would suggest he take yesterdays attack as a warning and stay out of the water for a while but I reckon he is probably back out there today but every shadow will bring his pulse rate up….
I wouldn’t consider myself to be too “new age” or “alternative” or whatever the politically correct terminology is now but I do adopt certain aspects in my life and one of them is visualisation. seeing myself in a situation and playing it out in my head helps me to get through what would otherwise be daunting tasks. public speaking is something people generally have a fear of and yet I love it, as long as I have a few moments to visualise myself in the setting I can’t wait to get up there. so for the past nine or so months I have been visualising myself in the various stages of pregnancy and this has helped me cope with the many changes my body has gone through – only thing I failed to put into my vision was the miss piggy like trotters I walked on from about week 24 but hey I wasn’t trying to be too realistic! part of my most recent meditations has been on the arrival of our myffyn and how that might play out and in my head I had two scenarios – one I went into labour at home in the middle of the night and, once my contractions got to a certain point, my still half asleep husband drove me to the hospital where after a reasonable period of time myffyn appeared with a bit of push and shove and we all cried with joy and exhaustion….scenario two was that I went for my willy wonka appointment yesterday and upon feeling my cervix pronounced me ready to be induced and then we all head to the hospital the following day for the pending arrival. neither of my visions have prepared me for what is actually happening this friday when at 6.30am scotty and I roll up to the hospital for our baby to be delivered via caesarean section. back to the visualisation drawing board for me…I know if I don’t sit down and focus on how it will play out on friday, in my head now, I will be laying on the table in theatre looking like a stunned mullet as they hand me our myffyn. so I have today and tomorrow to get my head in the right space – something myffyn doesn’t want to do – and see myself giving birth in a whole new way. I will also have to put scotty into my vision wearing his hospital scrubs which will provide the fun factor for the day. I think that regardless of how much I aim to prepare myself it will still be a surreal experience shared with my husband and eight others…yes eight people on hand to ensure the safe delivery of one baby. scott said “I hope it’s a big room” willy wonka said “we wheel you in, sit you up, give you an epidural, you will feel warm and tingly then numb from the nipples down – we will check this with ice on your nipples – the nurse will insert a catheter and empty your bladder, I make a cut about yay big and move your bladder out of the way, then you will feel a bit of pushing and pulling and then the baby comes out and we hold the baby up for a picture, the paediatrician checks the baby is breathing ok then we wrap up the baby and give him/her to you for cuddles and more photos while I remove the placenta and stitch you back up. all up the actual delivery part can be done in two minutes” scotty will be lucky to have the camera out of the bag let alone focussed in that time! so it is actually happening, this friday we will actually get to finally meet our myffyn for the first time and even as I type this it still doesn’t feel real. sure I have a big pregnant belly and it moves in mysterious ways that provide endless entertainment for me, I still get up at least five times during the night to empty my bladder and I can no longer bend to pick things up but it still feels normal to me and like I still have quite a way to go. I dont…I have two days. in the words of the late steve irwin…CRIKEY. I think I liked it better when I didn’t know how it would play out because now that we have a plan and we know how and when I am proper nervous….
so begins our last week in a two human one dog household. by the end of this week the team at Haus of Halford will have increased by one and will never be the same, we are all in for a shake up. I think the last six weeks has been the longest part of this journey, I can’t count the first trimester really because I didn’t even realise I was pregnant until 10 weeks. if you just read that line and are now thinking how can a woman of her age NOT know until 10 weeks I give you two reasons why I didn’t cotton on earlier – ok three reasons but I will probably get into trouble for printing one of them. reason number one – on august 12th I had a D & C to remove a blighted ovum and after this surgery it can take up to six months for your cycle to regulate, reason number two – I didn’t have any symptoms of pregnancy until that tenth week when I went on a mountain bike ride and couldn’t make it up a small incline let alone the whole mountain, and reason number three – while scotty and I had spent the previous couple of years trying to conceive and failing miserably after the D & C we decided that enough was enough for all of it and in the following month only had sex once. yes peeps that’s right once. I hope they never ask me to participate in those sex surveys magazines do because I would have to either lie and say we are on each other like rabbits from sundown to sunrise or take the shame and say half the time we just want to go to sleep. especially after a couple of years of having sex only when the ovulation predictor said so – kind of takes the excitement out of it really. anyhoo so I know it only takes one time but really at my age the odds are stacked well against me so when I did finally take the test you could have slapped my face with a dead fish and the expression would have remained the same.
I guess the past six weeks probably would have passed with more ease if I didn’t pay as much attention to what willy wonka had to say. it was he who said that while my 40 week due date was June 19th at my age we would consider that two weeks overdue and my new due date would be 38 weeks or June 5th and he would look at inducing around that time as the risks of unexplained stillbirth in women over 40 is quite high. okay so we check off the weeks and at week 37 he says well it can happen any day now so get your bag packed and you car seat sorted. since then every visit has been a case of everything is perfect so see you next week. tomorrow is my 40 week due date and scotty and I were discussing the chances of him having a look and throwing in one more “see you next week” for good measure. I don’t think either of us will be bothered to be honest, we have hit our peak and now it’s just a waiting game for everyone else to play.
we got our nursery furniture delivered on saturday so today I can occupy my time filling up the drawers with myffyns many outfits that people have given us. so far we have bought three singlets, one Hungry Caterpillar onesie, a high chair, a bath support and a foam mat for the change table. oh and one box of newborn nappies. everything else has been gifted to us – unbelievable really, when I look at it now, and still quite overwhelming. her cot wont go up until we have painted the room and she wont sleep in the room for about six months anyway so we will probably christen that one in december but it will be good to have the drawers sorted and the change table ready for use. on the weekend I constructed the musical vibration chair thingy that was gifted to us and will provide endless comfort for both parents and child I am told. so on my first attempt without the directions – a family trait – it came together well but on closer inspection mine looked like an upright dining chair and the picture on the box showed a baby laying down….so then I consulted the instructions and realised I have put the back on the wrong way…oh yes there are the two red dots that need to line up – should have put my helmet on for this one cause I am definitely feeling a bit special by this stage. so it comes together and on the instructions it says you need one D battery and two AA batteries. i promptly forget about this until yesterday when we are at the checkout of farmer jacks and spot the batteries….I say to scott “oooo grab a pack of those D size batteries love” he says “what for?” to which I reply….”for the vibrator…” what a choice look that must have been for everyone at the checkout the heavily pregnant chick urging her man to stock up on batteries for the vibrator…while I did make an effort to explain through my laughter the damage was already done and seriously nobody would have believed that the batteries were for the “musical, vibrating chair thingy for the baby” so we just left with our bread, chocolate, yogurt and batteries for a wild night of unwrapping baby furniture and throwing the ball to Mr Rooben…..we are so rock and roll…
I have a good feeling about this weekend. I am ever hopeful that the stars will align and magic will happen….my nursery furniture will arrive, my footy tips will be correct, the sun will shine and myffyn will get her butt off the placenta couch and come on down. my husband even did the responsible thing yesterday and got the weekend team leaders number in case I went into labour last night and he was unable to front up for work today – needless to say it’s 5.48am and he will be getting ready to clock on while I sit here sending positive energy to my uterus.
yesterday afternoon I needed to get some more raspberry leaf tea from the health food shop and wanted to get a haircut so when scotty got home off we popped to the shopping centre. I have had hair at a variety of lengths, styles and colours since about the age of 15 and for the most part those styles have been short because long hair is not my friend. I can style long hair in only two ways…straight down or pony tail. imaginative I know. problem is I don’t have very thick hair – it’s like my dads hair I have a lot of it but it’s very fine so when I do have hair for a pony tail it takes a good 5 minutes to wind the elastic around it and then just looks ridiculous so it’s short hair for me. at the end of 2010 I started visiting a very nice salon with a very good reputation as colourists and stylists. on my first visit I was there for 4 hours – I am prone to exaggeration but this is no joke – and in that time I had a consultation with the colourist, a consultation with the stylist, a cup of herb tea, hair coloured, hair cut, a glass of white wine and some rice cracker nibbly things and finally hair styled. then I popped downstairs to pay and almost fell off my thongs when the receptionist said “that’s $380 for today” I thought I had misheard what she had said or that there was a larger bag of expensive shampoo and conditioner that had mistakenly been allocated to me so I said “sorry HOW much” and it came out again three hundred and eighty dollars. my god. it’s hair, it’s short and in six to eight weeks it will need to be cut again. I have never paid that much for a haircut in my life and, considering my current situation, never will again. the absurd thing about it is I went back. beginning of 2011 I needed another cut and colour so off i trotted ensuring first that there was at least $500 in our account in the event that the new year had seen a hike in prices…this time I asked for a quote before they started any work – a bit like having a patio built at home – and I was able to get the price to $280 by getting rid of the treatments and a head massage. I said no to the head massage last time because it’s always excruciating and they push way to hard into your temples which is dangerous. I think they believe that the harder they push the more relaxed you will become and I just want to trade places with them and show them how to massage – yes I am qualified, no you can’t come round so I can work on your sore back. anyhoo so this time I walk out $280 lighter and somehow talk myself into believing that this is a reasonable price. I justify it by working it out to an hourly rate and as this visit I was there for 3 hours that seems reasonable…yeah? so the haircut I now sport is a faux hawk that is shaved to about a number four on the sides and stands straight up about three inches on the top and its in varying shades of colour made to look like a fire. a bit difficult to wear to work due to my uniform including a hard hat so the boys joke that maybe we could cut the top out of mine to accommodate my new ‘do. this is a very difficult style to grow out due to the business on the sides, party on top nature of it so I decide to join the Worlds Greatest Shave and raise some money for blood borne cancer sufferers. it’s a charity relatively close to my heart as my parentals close friend continues to battle with multiple myeloma and scotty’s uncle chris with leukaemia and myeloma. so I started with the goal of raising $1000 for the charity and on March 12th 2011 made the plan to shave for a cure all the while still rocking my faux hawk as high as it would go. I was overwhelmed by the support I got from the most unexpected people and managed to raise $2500 which really blew my hair back. so on the day of my shave my boss had allowed for the site to hold a BBQ and for everyone who was not busy to come and watch me get shaved. I had invited my parentals and their friends that are dealing with the multiple myeloma to watch the occasion and we all had a big laugh at my expense as my colleague ran the clippers straight down the centre of my faux hawk – sexy look. now fortunately for me my head doesn’t have any random nobbly bits or weird skull shapes so as a baldy now rocking a number two all over I looked okay. and it felt awesome. only problem we now faced was that scotty and I now had the same hair cut which was a little strange for both of us in a variety of ways. so fast forward to late in 2011 and I need to start getting my haircut again and I vow not to go back to spending what some people earn in a week on it. I also have grown quite fond of the natural colour so probably no need to colour it either. so I experiment with various salons and none of them really lift my dress up and they all charge a variety of dollars ranging from $80 to $170 and I always end up going home and mutilating myself. fast forward to yesterday – sorry peeps I do get carried away – and I see that the reflection staring back at me sports a pelt that would make a 1960’s Ringo Starr cry with joy. something must be done. so off we go for the tea and a haircut. for the first time in my life I am taking a number – not at the deli for my 250gm of ham – at salon express for a haircut. am I nervous? no because once you have shaved your head you get fearless with hair cuts. ten minutes later kimberley is working her very speedy magic on my Ringo Starr and 15 minutes after that I am done. no need to blow dry, no need for product and definitely no offer of a half caffeinated decaf with a twist of lemon. and it cost me $25. unbelievable. I walk out of the salon and cant wait to get home and wash my hair and style it to see how it looks and I have to say I am impressed. scotty has been over on the mens side and his cost $16.50 and his is probably the best cut he has had in ages – considering that last time he left with a bleeding neck from a wayward cutthroat razor the bar didn’t need to lift that far. so it looks as though I have found the Virgin Airlines of the hairdressing market – no need for the fancy extras just get the job done at the cheapest price.
it’s 7am what to do, what to do…I think I will make a cake. I know it’s only five more days but damn they go slow when you are counting them. maybe that’s the trick with life in general – feel as though the years are whizzing past at lightening speed? start crossing the days off the calendar and see if that slows it down….it works as a child so it’s worth a shot…only 191 days to christmas…
wednesday night there were four people occupying the four chairs in our theatre suite watching the state of origin and we can always be guaranteed of two conversations during a game…one is why do they still include the scrum in rugby league when all the boys do is have a rest and the other is about the amount of tattoos the players get. I can’t see how having six blokes all up to 100kg pushing against each other in a crouching position can be considered “a rest” but I have never played a team sport so I will have to ask scotty his thoughts on that one. I went to the font of all knowledge on the tnet – that’s internet for the uninitiated – and the explanation of the modern scrum is here…
While restarting play, the scrum serves to keep the forwards in one area of the field for a time, thus creating more space for back play and special plays, an advantage to the side that wins the scrum. It is now uncommon for the team not awarded the scrum feed to win possession.
so there you have it, we can put that one to rest now…I know we wont though and guaranteed the next time my father puts him bum in a chair to watch an NRL game he will say “why do they still include the scrum in rugby league when all these blokes do is lean against each other for a rest?”
now the other conversation, and lets face it these are two very high brow topics we are covering here, is on the subject of tattoos. my dad abhors tattoos and cannot understand why anyone would want to get one. it doesn’t matter what sport you watch these days it seems that tattoos are the performance enhancer of choice. strike that not any sport, let’s go with team sport because you don’t see too many golfers or tennis players with my brother’s keeper tattooed around their collar bones. so we are watching wednesday’s game and Todd Carney is playing for NSW now Todd is an excellent player in my opinion and has had several well-known battles with the booze off field but if they can keep him on the straight and narrow for the season then it’s definitely good bang for buck and he is a pretty good-looking rooster as well. problem for dad is that he is covered with tatts. he has full sleeve on both arms and pretty sure they also start from the neck and work their way down his chest. so we are watching him make line up for a shot at goal and start talking about his bankability due to his off field antics and dad says “well he would probably get more money if he didn’t have all those tatts all over him” to which mum – who rarely chimes into the tattoo discussion – says “well it certainly hasn’t harmed the career of that soccer dude who’s married to that skinny bird” ah yes there you go dad your argument just got blown out of the water by an avid OK! magazine reader. being covered in tattoos certainly has not harmed the career of David Beckham if anything Louis Molloy has been able to make a career out of putting replica tough stickers onto the backs of white wobblies in Manchester who want to bend it like Beckham. now, Todd Carney is no David Beckham but since our argument is only around tattoos and the public perception of those that have them I say well-played mum. I know it winds my dad up when I say I am getting a tattoo so I do it just for a laugh and he gets his stink face on and tells me “do what you want to do its your body” which is exactly my point all the time. the skin is the largest organ in the body and it is up to the wearer of said organ what they do with it so if you feel passionate about something and you want to get it permanently inscribed go right ahead. but my dad will still think you’re a dickhead. that’s his perception and it will never change. if I got a tattoo I would be a dickhead too so at least he is consistent and will not show any bias for family. problem I would face in getting a tattoo is I would want it somewhere that I can see it and admire it as a piece of art so it would not be something I could ever hide from my dad – I would have to be an out and proud dickhead and know that for the rest of his days he would comment on it every time he saw me, that is exhausting so for the moment I will park my tattoo plans and just stick to winding him up….maybe get a subscription of tattoo magazine and leave it around for him to see. for the most part the perception of people sporting tattoos has changed, it had to really, so many people from all walks of life now have tattoos for various reasons it seems to have become quite mainstream and no longer a reason to be outcast. when I was growing up tattoos were for the very rough, the recently returned to society after a period of incarceration or people in the navy – or maybe that was my perception back then. I do know that they weren’t quite as spectacular as they are now with most looking like they had used a needle and the ink from a bic ballpoint to do the work.
at 4.30am this morning over toast and juice our conversation was about how we feel like it’s just business as usual, like I should just get up and go to work cause nothing else seems to be happening. I think we have ridden the wave of pregnancy with the expectation that we would have had the baby by now – even wonka thought we would be with child at this late stage – but still no movement at the station and the days just keep on rolling on while we wait. it’s driving me bonkers but I am sticking true to my besty’s advice and just counting the days and knowing that this time next week our world – Mr Rooben, scotty and I – will have changed permanently never to be the way it is right now, again. while that is a daunting statement I am just keen to get on to be honest. all the uncertainty and pfaffing around of these past few weeks is making me a bit doolally. so come on myffyn you can do it sista – or in six days time you will start your life on the outside and the choice of when will be made for you…
so I am remaining positive that myffyn will come of her own accord but she needs to get a wriggle on so yesterday I decided to give her a helping hand by going on a cleaning rampage. call it nesting by force or fake it til you make it, whatever it was, I cranked up MTV and got busy to the point that I was on my hands and knees cleaning the base of the ensuite toilet and the kickboard tiles…oh what a sense of accomplishment I had at the end of the day. it is such a rewarding task cleaning something that only you knew was dirty to begin with so when scotty got home I decided to detail all the cleaning tasks I had undertaken for the day in the hope that he would try to notice how hard I had worked and all I got was “very good” so when I joked that very good didn’t really cut it when it comes to recognition he then offered up “you are a good housewife…” he is lucky I was sitting down at the time and it takes me a while to get up otherwise I would have been on him like a spider monkey. when I look back on it now why did I even bother telling him what I had done to clean the house? seriously I saw the way he lived when he was a single man living the life with his single rugby mates and it was disgraceful…there were things in the fridge that were moving of their own accord and if boys think that the way to “clean” a toilet is to drop a cube of bloo loo in the cistern then I guess these boys had it sussed. so when I think back to those good ol days I should have saved my breath because the chance of scotty noticing that the charger does not normally form part of the toothbrush is pretty slim.
my efforts to induce labour didn’t stop at cleaning, I made plans too. last night we invited my parentals to have a football dinner and watch the State of Origin game two, today I have an appointment to get waxed at the beautician and this afternoon I have committed to pick up my besty’s two eldest kids from school. these are perfect conditions for me to go into labour surely? although wonka did say to me he would see me on saturday so obviously he has plans and expects the unexpected from his night, ohhhhh I hope so.
so yesterdays trip to see wonka was non eventful really…well the results from the visit were non eventful the actual time spent there is always providing me with a reason to either throw my head back and laugh or shake it with amazement at the stuff that can come out of a persons mouth, yesterdays visit was no exception. old wonks didn’t let me down. so at 39 weeks myffyn is still not ready to greet the world, maybe she has been listening to the weather channel, but in the words of the pro – “she has plenty of fluid around her, her growth is fine, your blood pressure is very good so no need for us to force anything just yet, we will see how everything looks next week and if nothing has happened by the 21st of july then we will have a discussion about how to proceed….” hang on 21st of JULY??? I said doc didn’t you get much sleep last night? you mean 21st of june yeah? so he tells me that he was called to the hospital at 9pm, midnight and 2am, I said I think I may have gone out in sympathy with him as I had very little sleep as well to which he replied…. “mmmm well I was just happy that the bleeding stopped and the baby started breathing” inside my head it was shaking with amazement and I was wondering if his bedside manner is this descriptive with every almost ready to deliver client he sees. my outside voice could only manage a sarcastic ” mmmmm happy days…” anyways we had a look at myffyn on the ultrasound and this confirmed that she has yet again shifted sides – I think she does this about twice a day at this stage – and we decided that due to her position there was not much point in doing an internal because her head and heart are in the same spot as last week and in wonkas own words “last weeks internal was disastrous” now its throw back my head and laugh time because I found that to be the strangest choice of word…so he explained that it was disastrous because my cervix was nowhere near ready and caused me undue pain and discomfort so we don’t need to go there again. yeah total disaster. so we are back to “see you next week unless something changes” – which it can, and rapidly – and my actual due date that he really wasn’t that keen on me getting to is june 19th which is also my next appointment and then after that he doesn’t really want me to go much more overdue than june 21st.
over the last couple of months I have felt pretty comfortable with the way things have been progressing and have been feeling confident about how the pregnancy was going. the first few months I spent most of my time worrying about everything and not wanting to get my hopes up that we would eventually have a baby of our own – it’s my demon, anxiety, that gets the better of me and under normal non pregnant conditions I would have acupuncture regularly and take chinese herbs to balance myself…unfortunately during pregnancy a lot of acupuncture is not recommended and the chinese herbs are off-limits so I have relied on the calming influence of my husband and some very good breathing exercises I learnt some time ago – yes learning to breathe, and it cost quite a bit to! oh and I swear – a lot, it’s a good stress reliever but makes me sound like I should live in a trailer park, but whatever gets me through….so I have noticed the anxious feelings have started to creep back in from around week 37 my demon has resurfaced and I can actually have acupuncture now but my therapist has gone on holiday, really bad timing for me but sensanal for him. I managed one session before he left and if myffyn is not here by next monday I will be booking a daily visit to him until she does come…I will potentially look like eddie murphy in the nutty professor with hundreds of needles sticking out of me desperately trying to get some relief. I was chatting with my besty yesterday and we were talking about my fast descent into feeling depressed about not having delivered yet – we have been pals since 1988 so we know a thing or two about each other so we discussed that as of yesterday I am now in single figures and have 9 days to go. if it happens before that then all good but otherwise I should just tick off the days starting at 9, hence the title of todays post – eight more days. see if myffyn hasn’t headed out by the 19th then come the 21st I will either be induced or delivering via c section either way I hung up the phone and felt better about looking at it from that angle and if she does arrive before then it’s a bonus. I will laugh if she decides to come today cause its state of origin game two and if I go into labour I will be without husband until the game is over! actually I want to watch it so here’s hoping if it does happen they get gem at the hospital…
now I don’t often re read my posts on here but today I think its necessary to add a disclaimer to the post considering I have outed myself and my issues with anxiety, particularly for those followers and readers that are part of my family and are usually the last to know the most intimate details of your life. this is not a cry for help, nor am I mentioning it in this blog to get my phone ringing off the hook with people asking me if I am feeling ok or looking at me in a weird way just waiting for me to wig out or have a bout of tourette’s. this blog is about my 12 month journey of parental leave and everything that entails, the good, the bad and sometimes ugly face of me and how I deal with the challenges and changes ahead.
so I am going to crank up the dyson and get busy trying to get this way too comfortable myffyn to get a move on…at least at this rate there is a chance that her nursery furniture might arrive before she does….
tonite we are going to get hammered by 125km winds, rain, hail and who knows what else….so I would like to have my baby please. I am pretty certain that finally giving birth to myffyn will take my mind off the storm and potential for damage to our house. we went for a drive around yesterday to do some errands and there is wide-spread damage to fencing and powerlines…they are predicting that this storm will be worse than the big storm we had back in 2010 which saw some of the worst hail damage ever recorded in western australia yippeee skippeeee can’t wait for this one to hit. when the storm hit two years ago our area had a big umbrella over it and all we got was some light rain, tonight is when we get to experience its wrath so if we could spend the night at hospital that would be best for me.
I had the dream last night that I went into labour and that may account for the fact that rather than my usual 11pm, 1am, 3am and 5am wake up for wee trips I was up every 45 minutes…consequently I am now shattered but have to get ready to pop in to see willy wonka and have him glove up for some more awesome cervix palpation action. I do keep feeling some tightening pains in my uterus – such an awesome word really – and lower abdominal region but everything is so tightly packed in there I probably just need to do a poo – also a fun word. I don’t really have anything to go by for the early signs of labour because everyone is so different – but I am sure that once it gets going I will know. I was looking at some forums online last night to see what the recovery time is like with the different types of cuts they can make for a c section birth – vertical or horizontal – and one woman, bless her, posted “isn’t it called a c section cause they cut in the shape of a c?” nice one.