Before baby I imagined he'd sleep all day and I'd have loads of time to do lots of fabulous cooking... ummm, turns out not so much. I cook all his meals in bulk and freeze them, so if I have time during the day, I'm usually doing that. At the end of the day, after he goes down, I frequently just don't have the time or the inclination to do much in the kitchen for us. And hubby has requested that I take a bit of pressure off myself and tone it down a bit in the food stakes after he saw me trying to make curry paste when I was dead on my feet one night. So, I've been trying to do stuff that is easy and quick that is more than just a bit of meat and some veg/salad. Pasta is of course a major winner, so that's an easy couple of nights a week knocked off. I've got my trusty scrap books, in which I've printed out, photocopied, written, and stuck in torn out recipes since I moved out of home. And there are some major winners in there. Last night I did Allegra Mcevedy's Lebanese Pizza, which is a total winner. I didn't use pine nuts - almonds instead, and I put some rocket and a dollop of yogurt on top at the end to up the "things that are good for you" factor. Quick, super tasty, sort of healthy, plus... pizza! I'm totally into cooking food that is a healthier version of take away food, like making fish and chips at home with oven chips (from scratch) and pan fried fish, this cheats chicken parma (with a fraction of the oil - I just put the breadcrumbs on top at the end without all the oil and cheese and they brown up nicely), and a couple of other tasty pizza recipes I've got up my sleeve. You get the idea - junk food, but healthier.
And another one worth mentioning for entertaining is Stephanie Alexander's seven hour leg of lamb. Sure, it requires seven hours, which isn't quick by any stretch of the imagination, but once it's in the oven, you can forget about it, aside from being tortured by slow cooking lamb smells pervading your house. And it doesn't matter if you or your guests are running late, because you can take it out of the oven whenever you want it and it's still fall apart, melt away amazing. We've done it pretty much every time we've had people over for lunch since A was born (all of three times). Total winner.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
So do you want to go to the jeweller?
It's no secret that I love jewellery. My standard reply to questions such as "do you want anything from the shop?" is "diamonds!". And it's hilarious every time. I was recently a tres lucky girl, with Jamie asking me to meet him in the city for a coffee (which we do occasionally) because he hadn't seen Arch properly in a few days. When we met, he uttered my dream phrase "so do you want to go to the jeweller?" Ummm, yeeeeeheeessss. I'd been scoping these puppies for a while, since seeing them in the window at Fairfax and Roberts, and I luuuhuuuuve them. I love everything about them. I love the idea of stacking rings, I love the different golds, I love the diamonds, and I love the deco design. They are reasonably substantial, which I think suits my hands, and they are kind of like really fancy knuckle dusters. I'd prefer to be wearing something other than Birkenstocks and shorts when going to a nice jeweller, but hey, whatever. So I ummed and ahhed over them for a while in the shop, felt a bit bad about how much they cost, got over that, and then green lighted the purchase. I've got a rose gold one (fourth wedding anniversary is fruit and flowers traditionally, and rose is a flower, and ROSE gold... get it?!? Jamie says I can rationalise anything), a white gold, and a white gold with baguette diamonds, like in the pic below (I don't have the yellow gold, I got a white gold instead). I have the rose and white gold ones now, and the diamond one is being made. Sigh. L.O.V.E. The reason for the purchase (if we need one), apart from the fact that I'm spoilt, is because we had our little guy this year. Hopefully I can tell him one day that his dad bought me these rings when I had him, and maybe one day his future wife can wear them. Like when I'm dead. She's not getting them before then.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Merry Christmas!
It was a quiet but nice Christmas here at Riley Street. We were going to go away, but after an unsettled weekend with A in Melbourne recently, we decided it would be a lot more relaxing just to stay home. So stay home we did. Especially with the pouring rain here in Sydney. I cooked a pork neck which I talked Hudsons into giving me (after they told me the pork necks had been allocated weeks ago), which was delicious. We took a drive down to the beach in the rain, just for something to do because we were all going a bit stir crazy. We drove past Seans Panorama, where we had a couple of memorable meals when I was really pregnant, and going past just flooded me with memories of waddling in and out and those last few weeks filled with anticipation. I also have stuck my head into the room where they do prenatal yoga at my yoga place - the carpet has a very distinctive (and not unpleasant) smell, and all I have to do is breathe it in and it's just like I'm lying there with Arch kicking me from the inside again. I think about my pregnancy a lot, and what it might be like to be pregnant again, it's such an incredible thing. Especially marvelling at this little person that grew inside me. I still can't get over the fact that his ears and eyelashes and fingernails and ribs (and the rest, you get the picture) grew inside me. No doubt it would be much harder the second time around, having a bebe to chase after and pick up and get down on the ground with, but like all these things that seem impossible with babies, people have being doing it more a very long time, and people just seem to manage.
I've been going to yoga when I can - which is much easier with Jamie around for the break. I really enjoy it, and wish I could get down there more often. Arch is still breastfeeding four times a day, so I still can't be away for long periods of time, and have to time it when I do leave him, but four is better than six, and soon it will be three. He's still loving solids, and I think I'll give him an eating disorder if I'm not careful.
he's eight months now, and the biggest development lately has been sitting. He's so much happier and seems so much more grown up now he can sit and play with things. He's doing a lot of babbling of ma ma and da da - he has no idea what it means, but it's still adorable when he does it.
I'm going to go back to work three days a week when he is one, which I have really mixed feelings about. I think I'll be a happier person for engagement with the adult world, but oh god, the thought of leaving him... As soon as the new year ticks over I know I'll feel like I'm on countdown until the end of April, and I need to not do that. But it will be hard.
I've hurt my knee running, and it's taking ages to get better, which is driving me up the wall, so I've found this great gym to go to which specifically caters for pregnant women and women with children - there is almost as much play area as there is gym area, and they do small group training. So you turn up at some stage in a three hour time block, stay for an hour, and there are usually only a couple of other people there. The owner puts you through the session she's planed for the day, while the babies/kids play on one side of the room. It really is ideal. And something where I don't have to rely on other people to look after Arch, which means it's up to me when I exercise (and Archie's nap schedule).
Some photos to finish off:
I've been going to yoga when I can - which is much easier with Jamie around for the break. I really enjoy it, and wish I could get down there more often. Arch is still breastfeeding four times a day, so I still can't be away for long periods of time, and have to time it when I do leave him, but four is better than six, and soon it will be three. He's still loving solids, and I think I'll give him an eating disorder if I'm not careful.
he's eight months now, and the biggest development lately has been sitting. He's so much happier and seems so much more grown up now he can sit and play with things. He's doing a lot of babbling of ma ma and da da - he has no idea what it means, but it's still adorable when he does it.
I'm going to go back to work three days a week when he is one, which I have really mixed feelings about. I think I'll be a happier person for engagement with the adult world, but oh god, the thought of leaving him... As soon as the new year ticks over I know I'll feel like I'm on countdown until the end of April, and I need to not do that. But it will be hard.
I've hurt my knee running, and it's taking ages to get better, which is driving me up the wall, so I've found this great gym to go to which specifically caters for pregnant women and women with children - there is almost as much play area as there is gym area, and they do small group training. So you turn up at some stage in a three hour time block, stay for an hour, and there are usually only a couple of other people there. The owner puts you through the session she's planed for the day, while the babies/kids play on one side of the room. It really is ideal. And something where I don't have to rely on other people to look after Arch, which means it's up to me when I exercise (and Archie's nap schedule).
Some photos to finish off:
Monday, October 22, 2012
Six months this week!
I know I say it pretty much every time I put up a post, but time has just been flying. All of a sudden, Arch is nearly six months old, work wants to know when I'll be back, we have started solids, and those (usually wet) little hands are all over the place, pulling and groping at anything and everything in sight.
He's such a smiley little baby, he will give anyone a cheeky grin. His motor skills are really developing a lot, like amazingly, and absolutely everything goes in his mouth.
I get a little bit sad putting him down to sleep at the end of most days, because that's another day over that we'll never get back. Not that it's always beautiful and easy, but I know this time when he's so small will be so fleeting and I'll be back at work before I know it (part time), and long for the days when I could hug my tiny boy. I must kiss him several hundred times a day. He usually ends up in fits of giggles, which is only an encouragement for me to do it more.
We took him on his first plane ride last weekend - to Perth, for a wedding. I was totally worked up about taking him away, flying, and being in a different time zone, but you know, it all worked out. It was fine. He was a bit clingy for the first few days back home, but he did so well, and it was a good lesson for me to learn.
He is really proud of himself when he sits on his own on the couch:
This weekend Grandpa Frank is going to be in town. Grandpa Frank is known for the lasting impression he leaves on children, so I'm very curious to see how Archie reacts to him. Nanna Annie is following in a few weeks, and then I think I'll be lucky to get a hold of Arch at all as she whisks him away at every possible opportunity. I've thought a lot about my mum since becoming a mum, and imagining her doing all the stuff with me that I'm doing with Arch. I hope that when Arch is in his 30s I'm a regular fixture in his life, and he comes over for dinner with his partner, and we hang out and drink wine and catch up for lunch, and he likes me, and asks for my advice on things, and that I'm cool and slightly eccentric.
The little bear is going to wake up any second now, so I'll end it here.
Surry Hills
Surry Hills is undoubtedly one of those places in Sydney that people just want to be. Which is why it's so awesome (restaurants, shops, bars, cafes, parks), and sometimes not so awesome (parking, hipsters, no bookings at restaurants, neighbours who have terrible taste in music and very loud speakers). I prefer mid week Surry Hills when it seems to be mostly locals around, rather than weekend Surry Hills when everyone floods in from everywhere. Especially now, I spend a lot of time walking around outside, and most times when I'm out, I bump into another mum with a pram that I know (the mum, not the pram, although I am pretty good at identifying prams too) and have a chat, or just start talking to someone in the park. It's nice, and there is this whole baby community of people around, and everyone just reaches out to each other. But of course that isn't unique to Surry Hills. I'm really grateful to live somewhere where I barely have to use a car to do what I want, and there really isn't much that I could want to do, buy or eat that isn't within walking distance.
But it isn't just me who thinks SH is awesome! Recently, The Hills were named as one of the 50 most stylish suburbs in the world. It was the only suburb in Australia to make the list (I've never heard of the website that made the list, but who cares! Surry Hills is on it and that's where I LIVE).
Read about it here
But it isn't just me who thinks SH is awesome! Recently, The Hills were named as one of the 50 most stylish suburbs in the world. It was the only suburb in Australia to make the list (I've never heard of the website that made the list, but who cares! Surry Hills is on it and that's where I LIVE).
Read about it here
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I just found this in my draft post folder...
I must have written it intending to post it when I got past 12 weeks and then totally forgot.
I still remember feeling like this so clearly. It also seems like a lifetime ago. And what I didn't know then, but knew would somehow fall in place is that I'd end up with my little Arch, and everything would be ok. But it's a pretty terrifying road getting there.
Last week I found out I'm pregnant. It still feels weird to write that. Like I'm a fraudster in the mystical world of pregnant ladies. It shouldn't have been at all surprising, but it still surprised the crap out of me. There were no serenely shed tears tears of joy, or thoughtfully wrapped pregnancy tests presented in a romantic way, just a muttered "holy shit" from me, and a husband trying to force me to drink more water so I could do another pee test.
I still remember feeling like this so clearly. It also seems like a lifetime ago. And what I didn't know then, but knew would somehow fall in place is that I'd end up with my little Arch, and everything would be ok. But it's a pretty terrifying road getting there.
Last week I found out I'm pregnant. It still feels weird to write that. Like I'm a fraudster in the mystical world of pregnant ladies. It shouldn't have been at all surprising, but it still surprised the crap out of me. There were no serenely shed tears tears of joy, or thoughtfully wrapped pregnancy tests presented in a romantic way, just a muttered "holy shit" from me, and a husband trying to force me to drink more water so I could do another pee test.
It felt really surreal. Everything else was the same - we were in our house, on our couch, watching our TV, doing what we always do, but I am pregnant.
The signs were there - the most clear of which being that I didn't feel like a second glass of pink Taltarni last Friday night. I don't know that has EVER happened before. Naturally, I went on oblivious in to the weekend - off to have my hair dyed, eat sashimi, and drink whisky sours (which contain the very baby unfriendly combination of both raw egg yolk and whisky). Really, that happened.
God, there is SO much I need to know. And I have to make a decision really soon, like within weeks, about where and how I want to give birth. Private, public, private patient in public hospital, birth centre etc.
I'm feeling cautious about it all because it's so early, but I also feel like I have a little bond already with the. But already I can't get enough of rubbing my belly (which is absolutely no bigger than it has ever been) I am TERRIBLE at keeping secrets though.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Where does the time go?
Seriously - where have the last two months gone? I feel like I'm an ostrich just pulling my head out of the sand and re-engaging with the world a bit. I used to read the newspapers every day and watch the news every night - now major stuff happens and I'm all "oh, really? When did that happen?" And then I start telling people about things that I think are obscure, when in fact they have been front page news for a week. Thank god for the ipad and iphone - the one media outlet I haven't been neglecting is the Daily Mail, so I'm up to speed on celebrity pregnancies, weight loss/gain and other assorted scandals that are somehow more important for me to know about than world events. What did people do when they were feeding before these gadgets?? Or just in general?
So, Archie is great - really smiley and chatty. He's sleeping in his own room now, which was hard for the first night (lots of tears from me, none from him - he's over me already), but it is actually so nice to have our room back and to be able to turn on the light when going to bed and not have to tiptoe around.
I did a 9k run on the weekend, which I have been training for since I got the clear to run again 6 weeks post baby. It was a bit of a battle, especially the last 2k, and I did it way slower than I did two years ago, but hey, I did it, and I did kind of just have a baby, so you know, snaps for me.
I feel like Arch and I have really found our groove with each other lately.
Cute pic from fathers day:
So, Archie is great - really smiley and chatty. He's sleeping in his own room now, which was hard for the first night (lots of tears from me, none from him - he's over me already), but it is actually so nice to have our room back and to be able to turn on the light when going to bed and not have to tiptoe around.
I did a 9k run on the weekend, which I have been training for since I got the clear to run again 6 weeks post baby. It was a bit of a battle, especially the last 2k, and I did it way slower than I did two years ago, but hey, I did it, and I did kind of just have a baby, so you know, snaps for me.
I feel like Arch and I have really found our groove with each other lately.
Cute pic from fathers day:
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Archie loses it laughing
Arch started laughing a little while ago, but the laughs were few and far between. Sometimes though, when he's in the right mood, he thinks everything is HYSTERICAL. As per below. This cracks me up so much!!
We went and visited a friend with her new baby (welcome to the world Patrick!) on Monday, and Arch looked HUGE next to the newborn. I can't believe how much he has grown in less than four months, and that he was ever that small!! But we are super excited to have another friend to hang out with, and congratulations to Patrick's mum and dad.
We went and visited a friend with her new baby (welcome to the world Patrick!) on Monday, and Arch looked HUGE next to the newborn. I can't believe how much he has grown in less than four months, and that he was ever that small!! But we are super excited to have another friend to hang out with, and congratulations to Patrick's mum and dad.
Friday, July 27, 2012
3 months old!
The little guy is three months old today, and has gone up another clothing and nappy size. I bought him a bunch of new clothes yesterday, and he's looking super cute today. My favourite item of clothing that I got was a black pair of leggings with ruffles on the bum, but Jamie was adamant they were for girls. I wasn't sure if I had entirely lost perspective because I love the ruffle bum so much, so I asked my two most trusted advisers on such things, Em and Drew, and both agreed that ruffle bums were indeed for girls. I'm devastated, and the ruffle bums are going back. Sigh. photos from week 6 to week 12 here. He is getting really into his hands right now and starting to swat at things. He's also really into me, which, of course, is adorable. I get the best smiles and coos every day. I try to get it on camera, but naturally, when I stick this big black thing in his face he's totally intrigued by it and just stares and stops being chatty.
We've started a mums and bubs yoga course, which is nice - the babies just lie on blankets next to your yoga mat and it's really cute. Of course, half the time is spent settling, or feeding, or making faces, but it's good to have something to get me out of the house and meet other new mums.
I'm feeling more and more confident in taking him out and fitting in what I need to do rather than freaking out that he's going to wake up/ cry/ needs a feed. We are really so lucky with the baby we have - he's really easy going, and is sleeping like a dream. The other night he slept for nearly 12 hours, fed, and then went back to sleep for another two hours. Amazing. He's down to one feed a night, and I don't mind it at all. I'd be really sad if he dropped it actually. As totally mental as it sounds, I like getting up to see him in the middle of the night, all sleepy and kittenish, and snuggling down just us in the chair in his room with the occasional drunk wandering past outside, car doors closing, or rain coming down on the roof. I know when he does drop that feed, I'll miss it.
We did a weigh in and measure this week - he's 6.6 kilos (75th percentile) and 64 cm long (90th percentile). I was very proud. It's crazy to think he's grown so much, but I guess that's what babies do!
Smiley baby!
Feeding baby. He curls and uncurls his hands when he's feeding, and sometimes plays with my top or thumps me.
Sleeping in the carrier with dad... awww
We've started a mums and bubs yoga course, which is nice - the babies just lie on blankets next to your yoga mat and it's really cute. Of course, half the time is spent settling, or feeding, or making faces, but it's good to have something to get me out of the house and meet other new mums.
I'm feeling more and more confident in taking him out and fitting in what I need to do rather than freaking out that he's going to wake up/ cry/ needs a feed. We are really so lucky with the baby we have - he's really easy going, and is sleeping like a dream. The other night he slept for nearly 12 hours, fed, and then went back to sleep for another two hours. Amazing. He's down to one feed a night, and I don't mind it at all. I'd be really sad if he dropped it actually. As totally mental as it sounds, I like getting up to see him in the middle of the night, all sleepy and kittenish, and snuggling down just us in the chair in his room with the occasional drunk wandering past outside, car doors closing, or rain coming down on the roof. I know when he does drop that feed, I'll miss it.
We did a weigh in and measure this week - he's 6.6 kilos (75th percentile) and 64 cm long (90th percentile). I was very proud. It's crazy to think he's grown so much, but I guess that's what babies do!
Smiley baby!
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Archie's birth story
I know for some people this might be a bit TMI, but hey, I'm not making you read it, and I know I became fascinated with birth stories towards the end of my pregnancy, and there are so many horror stories out there, that having something positive to say is a good thing.
I went into labour at about 7.30 pm the day after Anzac day. I was putting something in the dishwasher and felt a mild contraction and didn't really think much of it. I'd read so much about birth and labour and the fact that so often women freak out at nothing and how common Braxton Hicks contractions are that I didn't really think this was going to be *it*. They came and went every ten or twenty minutes or so and weren't that bad, so I was very calm about it. Until I got a phone call from Jamie saying he had missed his flight home from Melbourne. I didn't tell him what was going on because I knew he'd freak out, and planes leave Melbourne every half hour or so, so I knew he'd be home soon. I watched some TV and texted my back up birth partner (Em) to be on standby, but that it was probably nothing... Jamie got home about 9pm, and I was in bed reading in my pillow fortress. I still wasn't convinced I was in labour, even though things were coming on stronger. It was really manageable, but I couldn't sleep and just lay there squeezing Jamie's hand with every contraction. When the pain started getting more intense - maybe about 2am, I conceded that maybe I was in labour and we were going to have a baby... again, having read so much about how women turn up way too early to hospital, I was determined to stay at home for as long as I could. I hopped in the shower for a while, which was really great. After that, we put on the tens machine I'd hired, and I thought it was really good. Maybe just because it was a distraction and there was a button for me to push, but at least the buzzing sensation on my back took away from the feeling at the front of my stomach. I'd definitely recommend these to anyone thinking about it. We called the hospital, and they had a chat to me, and given I could talk through a contraction and was still pretty calm, they said I could stay home for a while yet. Things stepped up a notch about 5am, and I was on my knees, leaning over the side of the bed with each contraction, pushing my little button. We called the hospital again, and I started crying and couldn't talk through the pain, so they said to come in. It took a while for me to get up and get downstairs and make sure Jamie had my (five - I'm not kidding) bags. He pulled the car up out the front and the sun was just coming up. I remember walking out the door and thinking that when we walk back in it will be with a baby... incredible. Sitting up in the car was pretty uncomfortable, and any bumps, acceleration, braking (pretty much anything) unleashed a torrent of abuse and swearing from me. It took me ages to get out of the car, into the lift and into the delivery suite. Lots of stopping and leaning up against the wall, swearing, enquiring after my bags (yes, he did have them all, yes, he would go back and get them from the car, yes, my hospital admission card was in my handbag, and yes, he had my handbag). When we walked in they took one look at me and asked if I was Marsha. Then straight into a room and onto a monitor for a while. They examined me and I was 4cm - I was kind of a bit disappointed by that given I'd been going for about 12 hours by that stage, and things were becoming pretty tough. But still, that's nearly half way, so it was something. I had to stay on my back while they monitored the baby for half an hour, but then I could get up. I tried sitting on a swiss ball and doing all the things I had planned to, but it really was just too much for me. My contractions were not backing off - they were coming in waves, but they never eased off in between, so I was fighting the whole time. This was really unexpected for me, as the common thing is for the contractions to completely back off at the end of each one and give you a chance to recover. But apparently this can happen - it's common with induced labours. It was seriously punishing me - no relief at all, but I was in the zone. I was on my knees leaning over the bed again and the midwife suggested I get in the bath. I had to be convinced, because I was becoming quite attached to my tens machine and my little button, and you can't take the tens machine in the bath for obvious reasons (water + electricity = bad), but I was convinced. My doula arrived to help with the convincing process, and her and Jamie helped me to the shower while the bath was filling up. I got in the bath for the next few hours, had the lights out, and just worked through the contractions. My doula was amazing, and so was Jamie. At one stage the obstetrician came down to say hi and they checked every two or so hours to see how far along I was. I wasn't really talking at this stage other than "water". I was getting pretty vocal with the peak of the contractions (I later asked if the suites are reasonably soundproof - they aren't! How terrifying for anyone coming in!!) and just really let go. When I got to 8cm, about 11am, the midwife came and said something like this: "the anesthetist has given everyone else on the ward an epidural, and he rides his bike in here and lives a reasonable distance away, and given you are 8cm, if you want it, he won't get back here in time, so if you want it, you have to get it now...". She said the pain wouldn't get worse, but that it would continue for about another three hours before I could start pushing. I didn't need an epidural right at that moment, but the thought of three more hours of the same level of pain sealed the deal for me. I went for it. As I said at the time, I didn't need that medal. I tried, and I was really proud of how far I got, but I was pretty close to my limit of what I could handle before losing control. It was really getting to be too much. I was pretty shut down at this stage - not talking, eyes closed, pretty primitive noises coming from me. It took me about 15 minutes to get out of the back and onto my bed about 3 metres away. The anesthetist was as charming and empathetic as a doorknob, but worked his magic, and then sweet, sweet relief in about five minutes time. I have honestly never felt such a feeling of relief, it was amazing. I came out of the zone, and was chatting, eating biscuits, having cups of tea, and cracking gags in no time. The epidural was really different from what I expected. I could still move my legs, I could still feel people touching my legs, I was totally mentally present, and the only thing that was really different was that the vice on my belly had let up. So I chatted away the last two cms of dilation before they told me it was time to push. I thought all the hard work was over once I had the epidural and that I was on the downhill track. Not so much. Pushing was really difficult, especially since I couldn't feel anything. So I asked them to dial back the epidural which brought back the pain. I pushed for over an hour and then the midwife said she had to get the obstetrician - I knew that meant intervention, so I tried *really* hard to push, but I just wasn't getting very far. The obstetrician came down and I had my own little cheer squad encouraging me with every push, but it was slow going. I pushed for another half hour or so, and he said that the baby was in the birth canal for too long and had to come out, so he wanted to use a vacuum. Not what I wanted, but baby had to come out, so we tried that. It was slow going. The vacuum came off a couple of times, and I tried so hard, but he just wouldn't come out. Eventually, the obstetrician said that we would give it one last go with the vacuum, and then he had to use forceps because the baby really needed to come out now because his heart rate was dropping. At this stage I was totally exhausted, shattered like I have never been in my life, but I knew he wasn't far off, and I really, really didn't want a forcep delivery (and accompanying episiotomy). An ominously large and metal sounding package wrapped in blue fabric was quietly put next to the obstetrician (forceps!! eeek), and I was given one last push. I just told the doctor to do whatever he had to do to get the baby out. The doctor put ALL his bodyweight into pulling Arch out and I used all the energy I had left. He was pouring with sweat by then too, and I could tell by everyone's faces that they were getting concerned. And he came out. If I thought the epidural was a relief, this quickly replaced that moment as by far the strongest feeling of relief I have ever felt. It was like running into a wall of relief - so total and overwhelming. He was born at 5:12 pm. I can't really remember much at this stage, but I know they put him on my chest right away. I remember his smell really clearly - so earthy and salty and wet. They took him away pretty quickly because a paediatrician had to look over him (which they do with all assisted deliveries). He had a huge bruise and lump on his head from the vacuum, and he was so hard to get out because he had a very big head... They brought him back, and we just held him and stared at him. You are pregnant for so long, but nothing prepares you for the fact you now have a baby - OMG, a baby!!!
He fed, and Jamie held him, and the obstetrician finished up his business. I had one internal stitch, which the obstetrician said was an amazing outcome for an assisted delivery. The midwife that works with him later told me he was really, really nervous about not doing an episiotomy, and that it was a good lesson for him to learn, but I'm sure the outcome could just as easily have been bad as it was good. But I'm glad I stuck by my guns.
Gradually, everyone left and it was just us, our little family. I was pretty keen to get him feeding well, and he was on and off, in between us just looking at him in incredulity. WE DID THAT.
So things didn't go according to plan, but I was so proud and happy about Archie's birth. I felt totally supported and in control during the whole thing - even towards the end, the obstetrician was listening to what I wanted and everyone there was so amazing. We had a beautiful midwife, my doula was fantastic, the obstetrician incredible, and of course Jamie was holding my hand through every minute of it and being the best support possible.
I didn't feel the instant smack of love that a lot of people talk about, it took me a little while to bond with him and want to kiss his belly all day long, but I'm definitely there. I love this little boy so deeply and intensely. He's transformed my life, and made me calm in a way I have never been before. He's also wracked me with anxiety and guilt, but wow, what a journey it's been already. I love being his mum, Jamie's wife, and having a family. I know the future is going to be amazing and I will never be the same because of this little boy. It's such a privilege to be responsible for bringing up a human being, and trying to give him the best guidance we can to be a good person. Archie, my darling, welcome to the world. We love you very much and adore being your parents. I hope we can do a good job of it. We will always try our best. Now lets have some fun.
I went into labour at about 7.30 pm the day after Anzac day. I was putting something in the dishwasher and felt a mild contraction and didn't really think much of it. I'd read so much about birth and labour and the fact that so often women freak out at nothing and how common Braxton Hicks contractions are that I didn't really think this was going to be *it*. They came and went every ten or twenty minutes or so and weren't that bad, so I was very calm about it. Until I got a phone call from Jamie saying he had missed his flight home from Melbourne. I didn't tell him what was going on because I knew he'd freak out, and planes leave Melbourne every half hour or so, so I knew he'd be home soon. I watched some TV and texted my back up birth partner (Em) to be on standby, but that it was probably nothing... Jamie got home about 9pm, and I was in bed reading in my pillow fortress. I still wasn't convinced I was in labour, even though things were coming on stronger. It was really manageable, but I couldn't sleep and just lay there squeezing Jamie's hand with every contraction. When the pain started getting more intense - maybe about 2am, I conceded that maybe I was in labour and we were going to have a baby... again, having read so much about how women turn up way too early to hospital, I was determined to stay at home for as long as I could. I hopped in the shower for a while, which was really great. After that, we put on the tens machine I'd hired, and I thought it was really good. Maybe just because it was a distraction and there was a button for me to push, but at least the buzzing sensation on my back took away from the feeling at the front of my stomach. I'd definitely recommend these to anyone thinking about it. We called the hospital, and they had a chat to me, and given I could talk through a contraction and was still pretty calm, they said I could stay home for a while yet. Things stepped up a notch about 5am, and I was on my knees, leaning over the side of the bed with each contraction, pushing my little button. We called the hospital again, and I started crying and couldn't talk through the pain, so they said to come in. It took a while for me to get up and get downstairs and make sure Jamie had my (five - I'm not kidding) bags. He pulled the car up out the front and the sun was just coming up. I remember walking out the door and thinking that when we walk back in it will be with a baby... incredible. Sitting up in the car was pretty uncomfortable, and any bumps, acceleration, braking (pretty much anything) unleashed a torrent of abuse and swearing from me. It took me ages to get out of the car, into the lift and into the delivery suite. Lots of stopping and leaning up against the wall, swearing, enquiring after my bags (yes, he did have them all, yes, he would go back and get them from the car, yes, my hospital admission card was in my handbag, and yes, he had my handbag). When we walked in they took one look at me and asked if I was Marsha. Then straight into a room and onto a monitor for a while. They examined me and I was 4cm - I was kind of a bit disappointed by that given I'd been going for about 12 hours by that stage, and things were becoming pretty tough. But still, that's nearly half way, so it was something. I had to stay on my back while they monitored the baby for half an hour, but then I could get up. I tried sitting on a swiss ball and doing all the things I had planned to, but it really was just too much for me. My contractions were not backing off - they were coming in waves, but they never eased off in between, so I was fighting the whole time. This was really unexpected for me, as the common thing is for the contractions to completely back off at the end of each one and give you a chance to recover. But apparently this can happen - it's common with induced labours. It was seriously punishing me - no relief at all, but I was in the zone. I was on my knees leaning over the bed again and the midwife suggested I get in the bath. I had to be convinced, because I was becoming quite attached to my tens machine and my little button, and you can't take the tens machine in the bath for obvious reasons (water + electricity = bad), but I was convinced. My doula arrived to help with the convincing process, and her and Jamie helped me to the shower while the bath was filling up. I got in the bath for the next few hours, had the lights out, and just worked through the contractions. My doula was amazing, and so was Jamie. At one stage the obstetrician came down to say hi and they checked every two or so hours to see how far along I was. I wasn't really talking at this stage other than "water". I was getting pretty vocal with the peak of the contractions (I later asked if the suites are reasonably soundproof - they aren't! How terrifying for anyone coming in!!) and just really let go. When I got to 8cm, about 11am, the midwife came and said something like this: "the anesthetist has given everyone else on the ward an epidural, and he rides his bike in here and lives a reasonable distance away, and given you are 8cm, if you want it, he won't get back here in time, so if you want it, you have to get it now...". She said the pain wouldn't get worse, but that it would continue for about another three hours before I could start pushing. I didn't need an epidural right at that moment, but the thought of three more hours of the same level of pain sealed the deal for me. I went for it. As I said at the time, I didn't need that medal. I tried, and I was really proud of how far I got, but I was pretty close to my limit of what I could handle before losing control. It was really getting to be too much. I was pretty shut down at this stage - not talking, eyes closed, pretty primitive noises coming from me. It took me about 15 minutes to get out of the back and onto my bed about 3 metres away. The anesthetist was as charming and empathetic as a doorknob, but worked his magic, and then sweet, sweet relief in about five minutes time. I have honestly never felt such a feeling of relief, it was amazing. I came out of the zone, and was chatting, eating biscuits, having cups of tea, and cracking gags in no time. The epidural was really different from what I expected. I could still move my legs, I could still feel people touching my legs, I was totally mentally present, and the only thing that was really different was that the vice on my belly had let up. So I chatted away the last two cms of dilation before they told me it was time to push. I thought all the hard work was over once I had the epidural and that I was on the downhill track. Not so much. Pushing was really difficult, especially since I couldn't feel anything. So I asked them to dial back the epidural which brought back the pain. I pushed for over an hour and then the midwife said she had to get the obstetrician - I knew that meant intervention, so I tried *really* hard to push, but I just wasn't getting very far. The obstetrician came down and I had my own little cheer squad encouraging me with every push, but it was slow going. I pushed for another half hour or so, and he said that the baby was in the birth canal for too long and had to come out, so he wanted to use a vacuum. Not what I wanted, but baby had to come out, so we tried that. It was slow going. The vacuum came off a couple of times, and I tried so hard, but he just wouldn't come out. Eventually, the obstetrician said that we would give it one last go with the vacuum, and then he had to use forceps because the baby really needed to come out now because his heart rate was dropping. At this stage I was totally exhausted, shattered like I have never been in my life, but I knew he wasn't far off, and I really, really didn't want a forcep delivery (and accompanying episiotomy). An ominously large and metal sounding package wrapped in blue fabric was quietly put next to the obstetrician (forceps!! eeek), and I was given one last push. I just told the doctor to do whatever he had to do to get the baby out. The doctor put ALL his bodyweight into pulling Arch out and I used all the energy I had left. He was pouring with sweat by then too, and I could tell by everyone's faces that they were getting concerned. And he came out. If I thought the epidural was a relief, this quickly replaced that moment as by far the strongest feeling of relief I have ever felt. It was like running into a wall of relief - so total and overwhelming. He was born at 5:12 pm. I can't really remember much at this stage, but I know they put him on my chest right away. I remember his smell really clearly - so earthy and salty and wet. They took him away pretty quickly because a paediatrician had to look over him (which they do with all assisted deliveries). He had a huge bruise and lump on his head from the vacuum, and he was so hard to get out because he had a very big head... They brought him back, and we just held him and stared at him. You are pregnant for so long, but nothing prepares you for the fact you now have a baby - OMG, a baby!!!
He fed, and Jamie held him, and the obstetrician finished up his business. I had one internal stitch, which the obstetrician said was an amazing outcome for an assisted delivery. The midwife that works with him later told me he was really, really nervous about not doing an episiotomy, and that it was a good lesson for him to learn, but I'm sure the outcome could just as easily have been bad as it was good. But I'm glad I stuck by my guns.
Gradually, everyone left and it was just us, our little family. I was pretty keen to get him feeding well, and he was on and off, in between us just looking at him in incredulity. WE DID THAT.
So things didn't go according to plan, but I was so proud and happy about Archie's birth. I felt totally supported and in control during the whole thing - even towards the end, the obstetrician was listening to what I wanted and everyone there was so amazing. We had a beautiful midwife, my doula was fantastic, the obstetrician incredible, and of course Jamie was holding my hand through every minute of it and being the best support possible.
I didn't feel the instant smack of love that a lot of people talk about, it took me a little while to bond with him and want to kiss his belly all day long, but I'm definitely there. I love this little boy so deeply and intensely. He's transformed my life, and made me calm in a way I have never been before. He's also wracked me with anxiety and guilt, but wow, what a journey it's been already. I love being his mum, Jamie's wife, and having a family. I know the future is going to be amazing and I will never be the same because of this little boy. It's such a privilege to be responsible for bringing up a human being, and trying to give him the best guidance we can to be a good person. Archie, my darling, welcome to the world. We love you very much and adore being your parents. I hope we can do a good job of it. We will always try our best. Now lets have some fun.
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