Wednesday, June 13, 2012

the cat ate my birth plan

I'm the kind of person who likes to plan and organise. I like to be prepared. Not that I go to pieces if my plans fall through or things don't quite go to plan, it's just that I like to think I'm ready. It gives me a small sense of achievement if something I organise pays off. A well packed bag, a thought out route, a well laid garden bed.

Often things don't go to plan. This is the nature of motherhood. Being ready to leave for work on time and stopping to enjoy life for a few extra moments, like the rainbow the Bright Spark and I stopped to look at the other day instead of getting him into the Husbands car for the daycare drop off. The Husband subsequently ran a little late for work. Actually as it wasn't my plans that were thwarted, maybe that doesn't count.

Birth is not something that can really be planned for. I feel prepared. Kind of. Didn't actually make it to an Active Birth class, but I read the book. I understand the basic physiology of labour. I'm drinking raspberry leaf tea. I can count the minutes between contractions. I did some reading up on new born baby care. That did make me think twice about the whole having an infant thing. But then the Husband pointed out it was a little late to reneg on that decision and I'd better get used to the idea of sleep disturbance and sore nipples pretty quickly based on the size of my belly.

Despite not being able to plan for birth, I think having a birth plan is part of the preparation for labour. For me it's about clear communication of the type of birth I'm hoping for, a natural labour. Last week I finally put a birth plan down on paper. More a birth philosophy really. Let me stay upright, encourage me. Don't offer me drugs, I'll ask for them if I need them. That sort of thing. Also things like let my son have skin to skin contact with me and breastfeed early. It's what I'd like to happen if all goes well and there is no reason for these things not to happen.

I also put in things like "show me the placenta". I'm a biologist by nature and I have a slight academic curiosity about the placenta. I'd just like to see it. Not eat it or bury it under a fruit tree. Just want to have a bit of a look at the marvellous organ that has kept my son alive all these months. I didn't even think about it with the Bright Spark until it was too late, so this time it's in the birth plan.

I also included some affirmations and some visualisations. Stuff like "contractions are pain with reason" and "imagine you are swimming with dolphins". A little new age-y, a little bit Earth mother-ish, but stuff that might work. My mother claims that doing affirmations before a university exam got her enabled her to excel at the exam. It was the only time her exam mark was better than her course percentage. And why not think about swimming with dolphins when in the throws of a contraction if it helps to release endorphins and keep me away from an epidural. I'll give it a try.

The other thing I'm doing differently of course, is going to term, which changes the management of labour and gives me more freedom because if things are going well I shouldn't need continuous monitoring and I'll be able to be out of bed, bounce on a birth ball, soak in a shower and move at will. Going to term is not something I can plan of course, but I have managed to this time, after the Bright Spark was born at 36 weeks.

So I typed my birth plan, affirmations and visualisations. I printed them onto coloured paper and even laminated the affirmations and visualisations so I an take them into the shower with me (that made me feel very organised). I folded up the copies neatly; green paper for us, yellow for the midwife on duty. I put them at the top of my open suitcase with some photos of the Bright Spark and some ultrasound printouts of the Unborn Unit. I was ready. A couple of days later I came into the room to find the copies on the floor. The cats had eaten my birth plan. Chunks had been taken out of my neat printouts and little bits of yellow and green confetti were scattered over the floor. This sort of thing you can't plan for really. So I printed them again and secured them inside a bag where they couldn't be tampered with by a bored feline.

So the birth plan is done, the bag is packed and I'm feeling as ready as I need to be. Which is good, because I've been sitting here on my birth ball for a few hours typing away and timing contractions. I'm not sure if this is strong pre-labour or early labour. If I'm lucky it's established labour and I get to be one of those people that walks into the hospital 8 cm dilated and laughing. It feels real this time and I think the Unborn Unit may become the Born Unit today.

The Bright Spark has joined me now and I feel like I need to spend some time with him before these contractions get on top of me. I'll finish this up before he finishes watching "Franklin and Friends" on the iPad and then maybe we can have our usual breakfast ritual together. I think his world is going to change forever today.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Is this It?

So here I sit, on my fit ball at 2.35 am on Sunday knowing this is not It but wondering if it will develop into It this time. Not that I'm a hurry to see this baby into the world enough to medically intervene, but my bladder would really like some more room and my pelvis would like a little break from the pushes and shoves of a developing foetus.

So the reason I sit here is because at my last anti-natal appointment the midwife suggested that if I started to get niggles in the middle of the night again I may want to get up and work with them to see if I can get them to go somewhere. After being woken up by the Bright Spark at about 1.30 am, for a drink and a dummy, I went back to bed with the niggles. A little cramping, a few Braxton-Hicks tightenings.


So there I lay feeling the niggles for about three quarters of an hour. And here I am now still feeling them, every now and then...

2.41 am

I know that each labour is different and that second labour are suposed to be faster than the first. The Bright Spark entered this world about six and a half hours after my first contraction and I'm hoping that his brother will be faster, but I'm not going to put money on it. He's stayed in longer, making us wonder whether the obstetricians jokes about induction will become actual plans. I'm not against medical intervention where necessary, access to the best medical technology is one of the reasons we chose to live in a big city during my childbearing years and have made the financial sacrifices of engaging a private obstetrician...

2.55 am (there was one in between but I had to take a quick toilet break)

...but I would like to avoid the potential cascade of interventions that can follow an induction and failure to progress. I have faith in my body's ability to push out a child. I got through labour last time, albeit with a little help to get the Bright Spark out at the end due to foetal distress (we joke that he was pulled out with salad tongs). I had an intense but short labour, aided by an epidural after the 3rd hour.

This time I would like to avoid the epidural. This is my Everest and I'm planning to summit without oxygen. I'll have it there in my pack, just in case I get stuck an a storm near the peak. I know most people taking my route use oxygen but I hear that the view from the peak is better without it. My support team knows my plans and I have come a little more prepared than last time. I've got a good Sherpa, he's a little concerned but I know if I fall into a glacier he'll be there on my belay line to pull me out. Sure, I'm a little trepidatious about the journey, but many people have summitted before me and I'll keep them in mind as I make the journey.

3.10 am

It does seem though that the journey will not start tonight though. I feel like I'm stuck at base camp, ready to go but I'm happy for a few more days of preparation before I set of. It seems tonight's niggles were just another training run, and I'm going to retire to my tent for a few hours sleep before the Bright Spark wakes me with in a few hours for cuddles and books.

3.19 am

I'll go back to drinking my Raspberry leaf tea and sitting in my fit ball and practising affirmations and visualisations. I may even start to consider a few other natural ways to get things moving, although the Husband and I will have to get a little creative with positions in the bedroom if we're going to try that tried and tested method.

So for now this is not It but I'll keep you posted.

3.26 am

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Hell fortnight

Yesterday I cracked a tooth. Not just a little chip, but cracked a premolar in two. It seems that the larger piece is also no longer attached to the root and I think I'm going to end up with a crown at best, or an implant at worst. One small blessing is that it's not painful, so I can wait until tomorrow to see the dentist in relative comfort. The reason for the lack of pain is the root canal treatment I had done in November last year, during the second month of my pregnancy.

This was part of the hell fortnight I had last year.

It involved morning sickness, two jobs, a root canal, an ear infection, a sick cat, a bout of gastro and an uncomfortable fungal infection.

It started with the pregnancy. I must have been about seven weeks along and all day sickness had kicked in. Nausea from the moment I woke until the moment I fell asleep again, vomiting a few times a day and just generally feeling tired and crappy, as is common in early pregnancy. So I munched dried crackers and fruit and sipped water to manage it as best I could. I had morning sickness with the Bright Spark as well, but this was a little worse and coming at the end of a busy school year. Fortunately classes were winding up and my contact hours with students were decreasing so I was able to snack at will to manage the nausea.

This was one of the reasons for the second job. I had decided after 9 years of teaching final year Biology I really should get some experience with external exam marking. Our university bound students sit an exam at the end of each of their courses, known as the Western Australian Certificate of Education Exams (WACE Exams). The results of these exams contribute to their university entrance score, the Australian Tertiary Entrance Rank (ATAR), so they're the stressful culmination of a year of hard study for our year 12 students. It's considered excellent professional development to have some experience marking the exams and it was something I'd been meaning to do for a few years so I applied in June before I was pregnant and had received a position as a marker in early October, also before I was pregnant. But between saying I would participate and the actual exam being sat I had sunken into the fatigue and nausea of early pregnancy. But I could still do two jobs at once as well as being a mother and house wife. The Husband would pitch in more for a couple of weeks and the Bright Spark would spend a few extra hours in childcare, but the money would help out around Christmas and it would be a good career move for me. A few small sacrifices for some gain. So I attended the three hour Friday night session to learn the marking key with a bag of dried fruit and crackers and at all started well.

That Saturday night I developed a bit of a tooth ache. I thought I'd hurt my gum and was developing a bit of in infection, something that had happened a couple of times during my pregnancy with the Bright Spark. I turned down the Husband's offer to do a midnight run to the chemist but as the night wore on and the pain got worse I was beginning to think there might be more to it than just sore gums. After an early morning run to a chemist for codine and booking an emergency appointment with a dentist I was diagnosed with a root canal infection and the first stage of root canal treatment was done. This was the start of several days of pain followed by another root canal treatment. In the middle of this I was also diagnosed with an ear infection which had followed a head cold from the previous week. Now the pain from an inner ear infection can be pretty uncomfortable, but coupled with the pain of the root canal infection and treatment I was in agony for a couple of days. It was, however, at this point that I decided I could do natural childbirth. If I could handle this pain pushing out a baby would be a walk in the park. So I took as much paracetamol and codine as was safe and pushed though. Eventually the pain subsided, the antibiotics did their job and I could walk around without every step sending shooting pain through my jaw. I did a few hours marking and even managed to turn up to work for one day that week.

Then came the sick cat. Actually the cat had been a point of concern for a few weeks and things weren't improving. Dippy, our little feral from Carnarvon, was not doing well, showing signs of respiratory distress and off her food. She'd lost a bit of weight over the previous few months while we'd been distracted by miscarriage and new pregnancy and now after a week on medication she was doing no better. We made the decision to have her euthanased after a series of tests. We said goodbye to another beloved pet. She was a quiet little tortishell with a bob tail, probably from an injury sustained as a kitten. She was an untouchable fascination to the Bright Spark and "Dippy" was one of his first words. We used this as a chance to give him a lesson about death, letting him pat her after she had passed away. This was the first time he had really been able to lay hands on her and after a vigorous pat good bye and an explanation that mum was sad because Dippy had died and gone to heaven, while carefully dodging the words "gone to sleep" we left her at the vet.

I negotiated to reduce the number of exams I would mark and with the help of my colleagues at school I managed to complete final weeks of term and see my students to their exams. I was sad at losing Dippy, relieved that the root canal treatment was done for now and almost finished my antibiotics. Then came another hit. Gastro.

When our son spent his first winter in daycare he experienced many colds and had a runny nose for most of winter. We became experts at diagnosing colds in their early stages and using steamy showers to help clear a stuffy little nose became part of our bedtime routine. We thought colds were pretty bad and went out of our way to avoid kids who were symptomatic in an effort to reduce our viral load. We were relieved when spring arrived and the Bright Spark's nose dried up after months. Things were looking up. Until gastro struck.

Gastroenteritis is a blanket term used to describe a range a bacterial and viral infections that cause nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea. They also cause mummy fatigue, washing over load and daddy downfall in our house. You see when the Husband gets gastro he goes down like he's been shot. He vomits uncontrollably, dehydrates quickly and requires home visits from doctors to have shots of anti-nausea medication into his bum. It's pretty nasty for him. The first time the Bright Spark had it we had to take a trip to the hospital for rehydration. We also managed to share it with his Nana and Aunt, all over the hectic Christmas period. So the first signs of diarrhoea and nausea send us to battle stations.

The bout of gastro that hit me during the hell fortnight was, fortunately, relatively mild and required a few days off work to rest and hydrate. I was already nauseous and tired from pregnancy, I was happy to take a few more days off work to put my feet up and focus on drinking electrolyte solutions. It was thought that the antibiotics had probabl started it and it passed pretty quickly. Then came the final blow.

As they had interfered with my gut flora, the antibiotics for my ear infection had also interfered with the fine balance in other parts of my anatomy and I developed thrush for the first time in years. So now I could add itchy and sore to tired and nauseous. I was also a little over worked too. After another trip to the chemist and the application of some soothing cream "down there" I powered through the finally hundred exam questions and beat the deadline for completion of marking. I also managed to turn up to work a few more days and get though the pile of marking from my teaching job. The year was coming to a rapid end and I had survived a complicated and exhausting fortnight.

I was booked to have the final part of my root canal treatment completed six weeks after my son is due. Unfortunately the oat bar I was snacking on yesterday had other plans for my poor tooth and now I await tomorrows appointment to find out what will become of it. After years of good dental health it seems that pregnancy, and muesli bars, have once again taken their toll on my teeth. So fingers crossed for tomorrow's trip to the dentist and lets hope I don't go into labour in the next 24 hours. I don't really want to be able to do a direct comparison of the pain of dental treatment against the pain of labour.

Postscript; After 26 months I am just about to recieve the crown for my implant to replace the tooth I lost while pregnant with the little Prince. It has been a long journey, but in two days my smile will finally be complete again!


Saturday, May 26, 2012

from tragedy I grew a garden

Last year I started a vege garden. It is something I've been playing with for years but was incompatible with owning a dog, even if the Tank was getting on a little. He would still deposit big doggy landmines in the middle of freshly planted seedlings and leave large footprints in freshly toiled soil. So the patch of soil designated had been nurtured  for a few years. An apple tree had been planted, had done poorly and never fruited. Some herbs had been attempted but trampled. I'd realised I needed to fence the space but there was always something more financially pressing than fence wire and posts.

But for a couple of reasons last year the vege garden finally became more than a side project and became properly established.

One of these reasons was happy.

One was very sad.


When I started my teaching career with a posting to the regions of WA my boyfriend of 12 months had a job he loved doing with people he loved working with. But after six months of a long distance relationship he packed up his life and moved to the dusty red Midwest to join me with little prospect of finding work in his chosen career. Instead he fell back on the skills he'd derived as a fruit picker in the Perth Hills and worked on plantations tending bananas, grapes and mangoes. I love that he did this to be with me. He made some pretty big sacrifices that most men would have never made. He gambled everything for love and it paid off. This man is now the Husband. Last December we celebrated 10 years of putting up with each others neuroses.

When we came back to Perth he came back to an entry level job in an attempt to re-establish his career. Within six months he'd been promoted up and last year he reached his short term career goal of management. He did something that most people don't do; he applied for promotion whether he though he was ready or not and he moved his way up the food chain. As it turns out other people though he was ready. Now he works for prestigious University doing important customer support work and getting taken seriously. Its a long way from packing mangoes in a hot shed in the middle of summer. I'm pretty proud of him.

So we financially got ahead and we had money to spend on luxuries like manure, fence wire and seedlings. I didn't have to worry about the debt on the credit card before buying a couple of fence poles. I could get some good organic soil improver and still have a few takeaway meals. So the garden was started.

Then came the sad thing.

In August last year I had a miscarriage at 10 weeks. I had a bit of spotting and went for an ultrasound to see what was happening. I knew when we weren't initially shown a heartbeat that things weren't good. When the sonographer wouldn't comment I started to breakdown. Then a doctor told us the thing we were thinking but didn't want to hear. The next hour was a blur as we went from the ultrasound to the obstetrician then to the pathologist. Then we had to tell our family.

I knew my mum would be hit pretty hard. She'd been waiting for second grandchild, patiently in the wings as she does. So we drove the 20 minutes to her office to tell her the bad news.

Then we had to tell the Bright Spark. He'd just turned 3 and knew that mum was growing a baby in her belly. The Husband knew what to say, how to explain it. It just wasn't the perfect baby for us, for our family. We had to keep trying.

So as we progressed emotionally and I recovered physically I needed a distraction. A project to keep me moving and thinking and planning. The garden was it. I planned and I nurtured. I read books and magazines. I started a gardeners journal full of ideas and planting plans. I set goals of summer salads. I harvested and enjoyed the fruits of my labour. I grew seedlings from seed and nurtured then through cool spring. The rain kept coming, the wettest spring in years and everything grew. The apple tree produced flowers and then fruit for the first time in five years. Things grew. I felt pretty clever about the whole thing. Out of our loss came a pretty productive few months of toil. By the end of spring I was pregnant again and had a thriving garden as a response to my grief.

Although the hot summer took it's toll on the garden and the new pregnancy set up a few road blocks to further work, it is still growing. The rats raided the apple tree and took the fruit, so we missed out this year. The zucchini's grew and flowered but never set fruit. The beans were quite prolific and the Bright Spark enjoyed the spreading the drying seeds around the yard in the late summer (we have beans popping up in random places now). The herbs are still producing and I'm loving being able to pick them fresh when ever I need them in the kitchen.

Last week after being given the all clear from my obstetrician to get back to normal duties, I planted a winter crop. Carrots, peas and lettuce seeds are waiting for some more rain to get them going. Kale, broccoli and spinach seedlings have their roots into some rich soil ready to give us all the greens we'll want for winter. I'm hoping to stretch the budget for the week enough to get some leek seedlings and a new dill plant. The garden looks productive again with golden pea straw mulching the newly planted beds.

I'm looking forward to spending warm winter days harvesting and tending the garden with the Bright Spark at my side and my newborn resting quietly in his rocker or being carried in a sling. I know in reality I'll be encouraging the Bright Spark to play elsewhere to stop him from trampling the seedlings and the baby will probably want to feed as soon as I put my hands in the dirt. But most of the hard work for the next few months is now done and I look forward to the fruits of my labour yet again.

A little Kingdom for a little King

Six years ago the Husband (who was then the fiancé) and I were living in Carnarvon, a regional town in the outback of Australia. I had received my first teaching post in this coastal community three years before and after a six month long distance relationship the Husband-to-be took a gamble on love and moved to Carnarvon to be with me.

We started a family of fur kids in Carnarvon. There had always been cats in the house as I was growing up and I was given my first cat for my 12th birthday. When I moved away from home for the first time to go to Carnarvon I didn't have a cat to take with me, so a few days after I'd arrived in the town I went looking for a puppy, only to end up with a cat; a rather surly, slightly overweight grey tabby, who I named Falcon. About a month later I acquired another cat, Serendipity, a little bobtailed tortishell who'd been living rough in the school garden. So I was becoming a bit of a cat lady at this point but I was enjoying having furry bodies to share my little home with.

When the Husband-to-be joined me he saw the move as an opportunity to branch out into pet ownership himself. He was moving out of a small studio apartment which he shared with an axolotl (Mexican walking fish) and saw the change as a chance to become a dog owner for the first time in his adult life. After visiting a couple of dog shelters a Rottweiler German Shepard cross named Tanka chose him to be his new owner. A few months later Tank was joined by Badger, a rotti staffy cross puppy. Our fur family was complete.

When we were planning our return to Perth six years ago, we'd decided for several reasons that we would purchase our own home. The long term financial security was the main reason, but in the short term we were looking for a home for our fur family. Although we'd been allowed to keep our reticulation eating, carpet scratching fur-kids in our government rental in the country, we doubted the generosity of private landlords back in the big city. So a home we searched for.

With the help of a buyers agent we found our little piece of suburban paradise and purchased it sight unseen at a slightly inflated price (it just so happened that we were buying at the peak of a massive property boom). We'd become home owners and had ourselves a little 3 by 1 in the suburbs of Perth with a decent size back yard for our dogs.

Over the years our family has changed. We still have fur kids, but now our real kids, born and unborn, are the love of our lives. Since we returned from Carnarvon both of the cats have passed away and we had to re-home Badger because he and Tanka were no longer buddies. Late last year after the death of Serendipity we adopted a pair of ginger tabby brothers, Jupiter and Bird, from the Cat Haven. A few weeks ago we let our old man Tanka go to doggy heaven after he was found to have a large abdominal tumour. We're still reeling from his death. I expect to see his happy dance every time the I arrive home and I'm still saddened by the realisation he will dance no more. I miss you big dog.

But every cloud has a silver lining and as a born optimist I always look for the hint of sparkle in the shittiest of situations. Although our initial reason for a house with a yard was for our dogs, the Bright Spark now for the first time has an access all areas outdoor playroom. Tanka was a big boof head of a dog and could easily have knocked our little man over in a fit of excitement, so contact between the two was limited and supervised. Our fur child would be inside when the Bright Spark was playing outside. The lawn usually had a few doggy-landmines to dodge and the water bucket was always a source of cold wet mess which our son was drawn to.

Since Tanka went the great kennel in the sky the Bright Spark has had unlimited access to what is now his yard. A place where I don't care about mess, where he can run and yell. A place where he can explore and be creative without mummy listening for signs of mischief all the time. His trike has been a fire truck, a dump truck and a cement mixer over the course of the week. His cubby is a shop, a house or a sailing ship, whatever fits the game of the moment. The other night after arriving home close to sunset he insisted I help him into a jumper so he could spend the last half hour of sunlight outside. I eventually had to call him in when I could no longer see him playing as it was too dark.

At a time when he is about to undergo the big change of becoming a big brother, this new found freedom is giving him a space of his own. We have plans to get another dog, a female golden retriever if I get my way (too many boys in the house already). But with a newborn due in the house any minute and the budget tight new puppy is a plan for the future. So for now the backyard is the Kingdom of the Bright Spark and he is enjoying being the King of all he surveys.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Are we there yet?

So tomorrow we get to 36 weeks. The day after that we get to the gestational milestone of the Bright Spark 36+1. We're entering new territory here, the final weeks of pregnancy which I missed out on with my first born and I'm not sure what to expect.

So far my pregnancy has been relatively comfortable. I've gained about 12 kilos, about the same as my first pregnancy, a good amount of weight as I'm usually slim and have trouble putting on weight (yeah I know what a great problem to have). I lost all my extra weight after the Bright Spark was born within twelve months, so even though I was a little self conscious about going from size 10 jeans to size 14 the first time, I'm a little more confident that I will once again fit back into my old pants in a year or so.

One thing that I have found very tedious is people telling me how small my bump is. My bump is just the right size. It fits my correct size for gestational age baby in, with his head wedged firmly in my hips and his bum and feet up under my ribs, very similar to his brother at this stage. My bump gets in the way when squeezing through tight spaces, kneeling to play with the Bright Spark on the floor and sitting up to meals. It forms a convenient shelf for a cup or plate. I'm sure when people tell me my bump is small they mean that as a empty comment or a complement, but I'm over it. The husband has taken the other extreme. He who knows my body almost as well as I do regularly reminds me how beautifully pregnant I look. Although he is yearning for my non-pregnancy form to return (mostly so he can share a bed with me without being woken several times a night be the truck driver snore I have again developed) he reminds me that my bump is just right, sometimes by commenting how huge I look compared to the first time. It's nice to be told I'm huge by one person at least.

As for the irritable uterus, it has bounced us back and forth from the nice people at our hospital several times over the last couple of months. At 34 weeks our obstetrician declared that he no longer cared about my irritable uterus and to carry on as normal. At 34+3 we had a late night dash to the labour ward after an hour or so of crampy contractions every 6 minutes, only to see they'd stopped and having to return in the morning (on Mother's Day) to have a repeat CTG due to a non-reactive trace the night before (at least someone was sleeping). Since then things have been pretty quiet, except for the regular tightening that have been plaguing me since January. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones that has painless contractions, but they keep me on my toes as they are getting stronger as the weeks go on.

As we go into the final weeks I'm starting to wonder whether baby number 2 will come early for us. He seems quite comfortable where he is and I'd really like him to stay put until at least the end of the week so I can get out house a little tidier and more organised. The first big push on nursery preparations only happened a few days ago and has left us with boxes of stuff under our pergola awaiting sorting before it rains again. We have consolidated our library (formal lounge) and office into one room but a lot of stuff remains without a nook to live in and I've spent the day sorting little things into little places. Apart from the fact this has given me chance to reminisce as I open forgotten boxes of treasures (I found the box of wedding things including the delicious menu from our reception) it is a tedious task that can only be done when I'm without the company of my beloved first child. But headway has been made today as I rediscovered the computer desk and cleared an arm chair of clutter. Tomorrow I'm hoping to get a few more shelves sorted and plan an Ikea trip for more storage boxes.

I'm not sure whether this is nesting as I'm always trying to remove clutter, but it is quite cathartic to be able to get on with it this time. With the Bright Spark I worked up until the day I was put on bed rest and then went into labour before I came off it. I didn't get to sort and nest and found it so frustrating. My husband tells as wonderful story about how he told me to pack the hospital bag the day before I went into labour. He'd been kicked out of the house for some downtime and my Mum came to help me and keep me company. The last thing he said as he left was "get your Mum to help your pack your bag". I got my Mum to tidy the laundry that had been driving me nuts for days. The bag didn't get packed. Early the next morning my waters broke and we had a mad scramble to pack the bag between contractions and calls to the hospital. The whole ten days I was in hospital with our little preemy the husband was bringing in not quite the right things.

This time the bag is packed (I've been living out of it for a couple of weeks) and the laundry has been tidied and reorganised (some weeks ago). It would be nice to get the house organised but as I learnt from the Bright Spark, babies will arrive when they're ready, so we'll just have to wait and see. Oh for a crystal ball.




Thursday, March 29, 2012

a mood womb part 2

Fast forward to the beginning of February. The start of another busy school year, but one I only have 10 weeks to fly through before I go on leave in preparation for my second newborn adventure. I'm under prepared but cruising through the first week with few minor discomforts (yes, I should have done my pelvic floor exercises more regularly) and even manage to fit in an aquanatal class, the first formal exercise I've done since... I'm not sure.

Then comes Friday. I like Friday. A half day of work with a late start. I'm looking forward to spending some time with the Bright Spark that evening while his Dad enjoys a well earned Boy's Night. After a takeaway dinner at Nana's we're on our way home for a shower and bed. We curl up together with his current favourite "Wacky Wednesday" and I notice that my uterus is working a little too hard. A very distracted reading session drags out and after a few minutes of lights out I kiss him good night an promise to check on him in a few minutes.

By this point I'm starting to worry. I lay down to time the contractions. Still painless, but definite tightening of my little 20 week uterus. I time them and they are regular and too frequent. I put in a phone call to the husband.

"I'm having contractions. They're about 10 minutes apart. I think you should come home."

"OK. Are you going to call Healthdirect or something?"

"I'm going to call the hospital."

So now we're both scared and worried. Me at home with the Bright Spark and him now speeding through the southern suburbs on his hour long drive back from the boys night.

So I called the lovely little private maternity hospital our obstetrician delivers at and spoke to a midwife who said she'd contact our ob, but that we may have to go to big public maternity hospital. Hell no! We know our hospital well. The Bright Spark had come into the world there, I'd spent the better part of a month lounging around on the maternity ward on bed rest and getting the Bright Spark to establish breastfeeding. We know this place and the faces are familiar.

A call from the ob calms me a little but we decide that there is not margin for wait and see. Let's make them stop with a night in hospital and some drugs. So I put in the call to my mum to come and sit with the bright spark. She arrives minutes before the husband. I pack a bag and we make the 10 minute drive to hospital.

And now for a quick lesson in Human Physiology.

Muscles are made up of two microscopic fibres known as actin and myosin. For the muscle to contract the myosin fibres walk along the actin and calcium is required to facilitate this movement. The calcium gets into the muscle cells via channels called calcium channels. All muscles have this basic action, from the heart to the uterus.

So when I arrived at almost 10.30 pm I was given calcium channel blockers to stop the contractions. I'd been through this before with a threatened preterm labour with the bright spark. They make you feel pretty crappy with heart palpitations and dizziness. Combined with anxiety and tiredness I felt really crappy but I'd been told after three doses 30 minutes apart I'd get some lovely sleeping tablets and would sleep til dawn.

The problem with being on a maternity wing through is the babies. At 2 am I was woken by a very unhappy newborn screaming at the top of his lungs. This seemed to go on for hours and eventually the screaming disappeared into the background as I assume he was taken off the the nursery. Then the sky starts to brighten and the new day begins.

The contractions have reduced to niggles again. No rhythm, no regularity. Just annoying. I'm given the option of going home to take it easy and I'm out of there. Home to the Bright Spark who woke up to find mummy gone but scored another addition to his Duplo collection. Home to rest and take it easy in bed until our next appointment at 22 weeks.

Yesterday we reached 28 weeks. We've managed to keep the uterus relatively quiet with rest and light duties. I managed a total of 3 days in the classroom this year before going on extended sick leave. The washing basket seems to be always full, the garden is in desperate need of TLC but I'm taking it easy and saving my energy for the Bright Spark and husband. As we get further along I'm pushing it a little more. I've been behind the wheel of my car a few times after a 6 week break. I did two hours of tidying yesterday before our cleaner arrived. The husband has been a pillar of strength and domestic productivity. My friends and family have rallied. They've helped me spend time with the Bright Spark and come for long chats and many cups of tea to quell the bordom.

I'm looking forward to meeting this baby, just not yet. For now I want to feel his kicks and rolls inside me. We both need to be patient for a little while yet.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

the mood womb

So my daily juggle has now turned into a daily sit and wait. This began in earnest a few weeks ago now, but the cogs to started turning just over four years ago with the birth of the bright spark.

In 2008 my son made his entry into the world four weeks early. An irritable uterus led to preterm labour and he joined us. He was only a little bit small and had healthy lungs. After a few delays starting breastfeeding we were discharged after 10 days and he has been growing like a weed ever since. He's a happy, bright, funny little boy and a joy to all that spend time with him. I may be a little biased there.

We decided it was time to produce a sibling for our bright spark in late 2010 (that is my husband and I; we felt it unnecessary to throw it open to wider consultation). Our plan was to start trying in January the following year. Instead I was diagnosed with gall stones, following a pain that I think is equal to being in labour. So plans of lots sleepovers at Nana's for the bright spark and unprotected lovin' for Mum and Dad were put on hold for a few months. Instead the bright spark got a new addition to his Duplo collection and I got a GA and laproscopic surgery. And the good drugs that go along with this. Very good drugs.

In October the double pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test and we're on our journey to parenthood again. I had the first trimester from hell, but that's a whole post unto itself. Let's fast forward to Christmas. Holidays for busy teachers, a welcome respite from work and the start of my second trimester.

I can enjoy a cup of tea without wanting to vomit. My husband finds my lack of vomiting and exhaustion sexy (or is it the increase in breast size).

Quick quiz class;

What is the effect of orgasm on the muscles of the uterus? Those who answered contraction are correct.

And what kind of drug is caffeine? Those who answered stimulant are also correct.

So after the usual strains of first trimester I've started with Braxton-Hicks contractions at around 15 weeks after resuming the guilty pleasures of sex and caffeine.

Not wild sex with multiple orgasms. Just once.

Not double shot espresso. Just a weak cup of tea.

The husband and I consult Dr Google and find this is not unheard of. "A little early" comment my Ob and his midwife. Within a few weeks we have labelled my uterus as "irritable". No cervical changes, just annoying.

So it's agreed by she who gestates (me) and he who inseminates (my husband) that I should take it easy. Limited lifting, focus on spending time with the bright spark and have nap, or at least some time with my feet up, when I can. I shouldn't mow the lawn, haul bags of manure for the vege garden or lift the 16 kilogram bright spark if I can avoid it. I'm allowed to do some light weeding (hurray) and house work (yippie). I also chase the bright spark around the zoo and manage a day out to the museum.

And mostly my organ of gestation is happy and peaceful. And I'm hoping it will stay that way.

I don't poke the bear and it doesn't wake.