On where we're at now

We have survived.

Abby was an absolutely crazy, screaming-whenever-awake, what-the-actual-fuck baby until a few weeks ago.  Now, with just some small changes she's pretty much a 'normal' baby.

It's been a steep learning curve.  I thought colic was a medical thing.  Didn't realise it was just a term used for when a baby is 'fussy at the same time of day for a period of three hours or more'.  Abby was the life of the colic party.  Her fussy time went from about 4.30pm until sometimes 11pm.  Murray and I would often go for days without really talking as it was too hard to do amongst the chaos of a constantly screaming child (and I would retreat to bed to attempt some sleep as soon as it seemed at all possible).  Now, while she still often won't go 'down for the night' until 9ish it's a lot less screamy.  Oh the difference that makes!  Some nights we actually get an hour or so to converse.

And I thought reflux was a spilling thing.  But apparently there's this thing called silent reflux where they don't really spit up especially much and everyone assumed Abby had it.  She didn't (she has issues from difficult delivery), but she did share a lot of the same problems as a 'reflux' baby - needed to be held upright constantly, hated lying on her back, wouldn't sleep in her cot.  While this hasn't totally changed, it's starting to.  And where things are at currently are liveable. She slept (and resettled after feeds) in her bassinet all night for the first time a few nights ago.  Until then she has co-slept with me for at least part of the night every night to avoid middle of the night screaming sessions (and ultimately, waking her sister and starting WWIII).

Today is the first day Abby's managed to simultaneously be in the pram on the bus while not screaming for THIRTEEN WHOLE MINUTES.  That's about twelve and a half minutes more than her previous personal best.  She even smiled at me through some of the trip.  Unlike her sister who was generally a happy little vegemite in the pram, Abby hates it unless it is in constant forward motion.  And that 'rocking' the pram in one spot she will have none of.  It's cheating.  So where with Etta I could escape some fussiness (and get some sun and exercise to combat exhaustion and depression) by just taking the pram out for a little stroll, this has not been the case this time.  It looks like that is finally changing.

Which is great.  Because up until this point it's been nigh on impossible to go out without help unless feeling particularly brave.  Because walking around with a screaming baby in any environment never fails to elicit commentary and advice from total strangers.  Which is ridiculous because how can you possibly not know:

a) your child is screaming
b) why your child might be screaming (if for any reason other than just cos babies do that...)
 
When you basically listen to screaming all day and don't sleep much and are grateful for days where you can shower, jerk strangers pointing out the obvious is not what you need.  Usually what you need is a couple of stiff drinks.  And, if you can't have that just leaving your home to walk without harassment would be nice.*

*          *          *           *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 
Meanwhile over in camp toddler it's been a bit of a nightmare.

Because I was planning to only need one cot I was hoping to start the process of upgrading Etta to a 'big girl bed'.  She gets quite ownershippy about her 'stuff' so we were hoping to put her cot away for a few months before passing it down to Abby to avoid attempted sororicide.  So we made the call a couple of weekends ago to take the side off her cot.

It was kind of ok for the first wee bit.  Etta did fixate on an aspect of the 'new' bed we weren't expecting her to (new robot duvet) but we weren't expecting things to go super smooth.  Etta does not cope well with change.  And this on the coat-tails of a new sibling was probably a bit much.  The first week was hicuppy, but ok.  And then she worked out she could get out of the bed...

And the next day she worked out she could also undo her sleeping bag and open her door.  And all the other doors in the house.  That in itself is pretty ARGH, but she then decided that napping was no longer required.  The thing is, napping is totally still required as she is a terrifying nightmare monster when she doesn't nap.  So that part wasn't fun.  Even less fun was the sudden night terrors screaming in the middle of the night and then deciding that she didn't need to sleep resulting in Murray sleeping on the floor by her cot (I had Abby) both Friday and Saturday night.

So while we really tried to stick it out to save future torment, on Sunday we put the side back on the cot.  Hey presto - napping as usual.

But she's also at that point in development where she's realised she really is her own person ie: she doesn't have to listen to other people if she really doesn't want to.  This is the first time I've actually felt annoyed by my child.  Because I'll be trying to talk to her about something important and she'll just start humming and walk away to play with something else.  She's also taken to saying 'huh?' if she doesn't understand/agree or want to hear what you're saying (sigh).  I am catching a glimpse now of what it might feel like to live with a teenager**.

She's also teething.  So as much as I feel frazzled, I also do feel sorry for her as it obviously hurts her.  She's also grown three centimeters in the last three months and as a result has become clumsy as fuck.  So she's constantly bumped and bruised and generally undergoing some form of physical harassment.  I'm just glad she's a hardarse and besides being grumpy and prone to tantrums seldom cries when she's injured herself.  Growing must suck.

So yeah.  Times have been a bit suck but they are getting better.  I even managed to get a massage and buy myself a new dress on the weekend.  This weekend Murray and I are even going to attempt to go out on a date (a breakfast one).  Wish us luck (well, wish our babysitters luck).

*  How sad is it that many of us (I'm sure it's not just me) feel trapped in our homes because we have 'fussy' babies?  I do fully get that as a non-parent (or another parent) it isn't the most fun thing listening to screaming babies when you're out.  But people willing to take out screaming babies obviously are the ones who really need to be out of the house?  I mean, it's not fun for us being out with a screaming baby and getting glared at.  We don't do it for fun.  But you know what, it's better than getting PND, or leaving your family or murdering your baby.  So maybe, rather than give us the evils - give us a smile, one of those 'you are doing great!' kind of smiles.  Just doing that might save a babies life some day.  You really never know.
 
** Only this one still poops her pants and I have to physically wrestle her into submission to change them.  You'd be surprised at how strong a toddler can be!

On going dairy free

My saviours

I've been dairy free for three weeks now.

As mentioned in earlier posts Abby has been a tricky wee babe and a major learning curve.  The one thing I didn't have to relearn is that it's best to trust your gut when it comes to your kids.  From when she was very small she was in obvious pain when passing gas or pooping.  She would bring her little legs up to her chest and scream her lungs out.  She got nappy rash that looked like acid burns.  It just felt like something was wrong.

When she was three weeks old I contemplated taking dairy out of my diet to see if that would help.  I was eating a LOT of dairy at the time (breastfeeding cravings) and we have a fair few family members with dairy intolerances.  I managed 11 hours when I initially tried to give it up, then caved for some cheese.  I had many people telling me baby guts are unstable - especially around the 'wake up' time of three weeks and I loved cheese so much I decided to believe them.  Cos cheese!

Two weeks later with everything still very bad I decided I needed to make a more concerted effort.  Three days later, while we didn't have a magically happy baby, we did have a baby with more regular and seemingly less painful bowel movements and no nappy rash.

This time before properly taking the plunge I made sure I had things in the house I could eat so I didn't feel like I was totally missing out.  The things that have helped the most with that have been:   
- Cadbury hot chocolate (helps with the sweet and creamy cravings)
- Almond milk (best milk replacement.  Never liked soy or rice milk but this is great, especially so in hot chocolate or with cereal)
- Whittakers dark chocolate (feeling like I can still have chocolate.  Cos I can)
- Avocados (creamy cheese on toast or crackers replacement.  When I need savoury snack)
I was also extremely fortunate to receive a gift pack of replacement cheese products from my friend Alice at Angel Food.  My pick of the bunch has been the tasty cheese sauce mix.  Again, so helpful with cravings.  Have used it in 'cheesy' dishes for me and Murray and he concurs it is great! 

The first week was hard - particularly because we still have dairy in the house.  Etta is a very fussy kid so basically if there is a food she will eat we will have it.  But I've managed to be good and not eat her cheese and yoghurt, instead opting for avocado crackers if I so much as thought about it.  Now, it's no big deal.  I've even had dairy free home made pizza and not felt resentful.  I realised the main thing cheese really did to enhance my favorite toppings was glue them together. While glue is important, I can live without it.

The other reason it's been easy is because Abby's tummy is sooo much better.  It is hard for me to knowingly eat something that might affect her because the difference in her well being is so marked.  Eating cheese would make me feel like I was knowingly hurting her.  It'd be like kicking a puppy only a tiny, human puppy.  If I actually did that I'd probably have her taken away by CYFs.  Those thoughts are definitely enough to put me off cheese.*

And there are pros in it for me. I've always done better without dairy - I just love it SO MUCH it's hard to do without it.  The only time my cholesterol has ever been higher than it should it was 100% down to cheese and hollandaise.  And when I'm anxious or my immunity is bung I react badly to lactose.  Consequently, I've never actually liked milk or cream - so the almond milk discovery was a fantastic one for me and has heralded a permanent change.  Being dairy free is definitely helping me drop those bonus pregnancy kilos without really trying, plus my skin is doing pretty ok too (would be better if it were Summer.  My skin hates Winter).

With this slight cleansing of my diet, and with no longer being pregnant I've decided to finally return to a low gluten diet.  Pregnancy kinda kept the gluten tummy upsets at bay, but now the hormones are diminishing my stomach has started to go to crap again.  And having a fickle stomach combined with not a lot of sleep (newby plus toddler) or time for general health and maintenance, I figure that while I can't magically get more sleep, I can easily change my diet.

So Abby's a bit better, but still not what I see when I see 'normal' babies.  She still wants to be held all the time, dislikes lying on her back and is very, very fussy.  So my next post will be on our adventures into baby osteopathy.  Watch this space!

* For a while at least.  Babies tummies are changeable.  I will try to reintroduce dairy to my diet at some point in the future.  Just not now.  She is so tiny and it clearly causes her grief.  I will try experimentation with low lactose options to see if that's the main player when she's a bit bigger.

A quick follow up from the last blog

Getting sent flowers RULES!  Definitely a nice way to brighten someones day

Given the response I had to my last post I thought I'd better clarify:

I am ok.

I hadn't realised how the last post may read to friends and whanau.  Then a few days ago Murray told me it was like a wake up call for him.  He'd known things were hard, but didn't know they were that hard.  Although everything in that post is very true it wasn't meant in any way as a cry for help.  I am extremely lucky and have a lot of support.*  Thank you all so much for being so supportive and helpful for our family during this time.  It really is appreciated.  My main reason for being so frank in that post was to illustrate to (or remind) folk how hard it is in those early weeks - especially when there is a toddler in tow.  And that if you are one of those people who are struggling to cope it's ok to struggle.  In fact, I think it's quite normal.

I want to applaud those I know who are doing it without the level of support I have.  I want to give a shout out to those who do it without partners or without extended families or both - they are my heroes.  I don't know how you do this when you can't just pass the baby over to someone else for a bit.  I manage because I know that when Murray gets home from work, I'll get a break.  For many other people there is never a break.

And now I am writing this I want to acknowledge that things are hard for parents from all walks of life.  Regardless of how much or how little we earn, sleep deprivation, loss of a sense of self and parental guilt can affect us all.  The arrival of baby number two has made me really appreciate how hard it is being a parent.  Particularly for those parents of bigger families, of unwell children or whom are unwell themselves.  I never truly realised until now the effort they put in.  And I want to publicly apologise for any judgement anyone has ever felt I've ever passed, consciously or not, on these parents.  If I did it was because I was ignorant and I am sorry.

Because parents need the support of other parents and their communities.  They are growing the next generation and that's an extremely important job.  If you are a parent yourself you'll know this, and support rather than judgement is what is needed to keep us all afloat in hard times.  It is so important.  And it really is a simple thing.

These days most of us don't exist in those little neighbourly microcosms where people are always on hand with advice and an extra pair of hands.  While the old fashioned, practical things are a great help (meals, help around the house, someone to hold the baby while you sleep) equally it's the little things that help.  Kind messages, smiles, hugs and flowers (thank you Miriam!) make a big difference.  Basically, any validation that you are doing ok really helps.  Yesterday I bought bras, and the lady fitting me told me I looked good for having a seven week old.  That made me feel great.  Much nicer than the well meaning lady at the Drs the other day who told me 'You are doing well, it's obviously taken it's toll'.  Just phrasing things well and acknowledging that despite appearances you are doing a good job really helps.

Because for me the times that are hardest are the times that people can't easily help with.  It's those days where randomly Abby just screams for hours on end and won't sleep.  That gap between 5pm and 6.30pm when I'm waiting for Murray to come home, and organising dinner, and Abby is cranky because it's just crankytime.  The nights where traffic is bad and I have to do bedtime alone.  The times that are unpredictable, and therefore almost impossible to get help with.  Nice thoughts from better times help get me through these trying ones.

And I am ok.

I am ok because (like pregnancy) this hard stuff doesn't last forever.  It may feel like it when you're in it, but it doesn't.  After a feeding frenzy over the weekend (6 week cluster feed) Abby is now sometimes calm.  She sometimes even coos and smiles.  Before the end of last week if she was awake and not feeding she was crying so this is a vast improvement.  Today she kinda laughed.  Things are getting better.

And in the meantime I am focused on the little things.  The great thing about having lived with any illness for a long period of time, mental or otherwise, is that you (usually) develop coping mechanisms that are useful in other parts of your life.  I am much better at looking after myself now as a 33 year old than I was as a 20 year old.  So I make sure I have time to relax in the bath and paint my nails at least once week.  I eat (dairy free) chocolate.  I read.  I go for walks with the pram.  I talk to friends.  I eat at least two pieces of fruit a day (new research shows this helps women combat depression, plus it's yum).  I write.  I appreciate the small things and allow small snippets of time for myself.  And I ask for help when I need it so I can stay ok.

I am just so fortunate to have so many people available to give me that help.  My biggest wish is that all parents have the same support that I do.

* And thanks to everyone who has offered even more help since the last post.  Again, I am so, so lucky!

On six weeks in with a newborn and a toddler

This is ridiculously hard.

It is difficult to understand why anyone would do this on purpose. This sort of age gap is only for the insane, the martyr or those with miraculously perfect children.

I am none of the above.  I would never choose this for myself or anyone else.

If Abby were a baby like Etta was it would be hard but ok.  But Abby is not.  Abby is a baby that cries most of the time.  Abby will only sleep for a period longer than 20 to 30 minutes if she is on someones person.  Abby is a baby that needs to be held on a certain angle.  Who will cry whilst held for up to three hours with only short breaks for breathing between bouts even though she has a clean nappy, a fully tummy and a loving family.  Who will scream while I am trying to get her to latch onto my boob and will forget how to latch because she is so upset.

Etta caught in a tiny moment of loving her sister

And there is nothing medically wrong with her.  I took her to the Drs.  I checked.  I was guiltily sad to hear that nothing was wrong - that there was no medical explanation for this behavior.  Apparently, this is just how some babies are.  It's hard to believe this and not convince yourself the problem is just cos you're a crap mother.  That having babies truly is like playing lotto.  That it's not all your fault you can't get your baby to simply not cry.*

And if you attempt to leave the house to escape the insanity that is your house because your baby cries all the time you are guaranteed to have at least one (usually several) people tell you that you need to feed your baby.  Because your baby is crying.  Because your baby cries almost all the time.  And if you have your baby in a pram, because you need your hands to, I don't know - pay for things, or maybe just feel like your own for a bit then if your baby is mine it will cry.  Because it's not being held by someone.  And then you kinda almost wish you'd never left the house because you feel the hot prick of tears at your eyes and you don't want to cry in public.  But you kinda do just to see if anyone asks if maybe you are hungry because you are crying.  Or says something nice.  But you don't cry because you know the truth is that just more people will stare at you because you look mad.  Like a mad, bad mother.

And I know this will not last forever and that things can change.  But I also know this works both ways.  Since my darling big girl turned two it's like some sort of naughty switch went on.  She no longer listens.  Not to me, or anyone else.  She suddenly talks in gibberish a lot of the time.  Her tantrums are increasingly aimed toward me and Abby.  She has slapped, kicked and bit me on purpose and regularly tries to sneaky-kick her sister.  I totally understand that she is upset as her entire life has been turned upside down by this small, crying thing.  And this is not helped by the normal developmental changes she is going through at this age.  What I don't understand is how families survive this stage.

And I don't understand how people sleep train their subsequent children.  It was hard enough with just one baby let alone with a toddler in tow.  I don't even know where to start.  I am grateful that Etta at least understands that when Abby is crying she needs her Mummy and is ok with me rushing her bedtime routines on the occasions where I'm going it alone and therefore have to put the baby down.  But I can't see how people manage to put sleep routines in place for their newborns who don't want to sleep.  How in the fuck do you find 20 minutes to peacefully pat your baby to sleep in their crib?  I mean, without a toddler screaming at you and shaking said crib and dragging blankets off your baby.**  I can't even give Abby a feed most of the time without having to interrupt it to stop her sister from imploding the universe ie: pulling all of Murray's Eurogames out of the boxes and scattering them to the ether.

And when I do get the will-not-sleep-not-on-people baby to sleep in her bed (a rare but treasured event) I have to guard the room like mad because Etta will just bang on the door and scream.  Because even though Abby sleeping equals me having more one on one time for Etta, Etta doesn't understand that.  And she hates closed doors.  And toddlers are irrational, crazy, giant headed tiny people.

Seriously.  Most days I feel a lot like I'm at the beginning of the 12 Step program.  Every day I count the hours (sometimes minutes) until help, or my partner will be home so I'm not alone in this insanity that is my current state of Mummydom.  You can probably hear me muttering God grant me the serenity... under my breath at any given time of the day (or night) and I'm not remotely religious.  I simultaneously must suppress urges to get absolutely rollicking drunk just to escape things for a few hours, instead replacing 'hammered' with 'clean' and taking those few moments where I'm not holding a baby or placating a toddler to shower or (on rare occasions) bathe.

And I have help.  I have help almost every day.  Not all day, but for at least an hour or two.  And I have one whole day a week from 9 - 5 without Etta.  And I have one or two days a week where Mum is here from pretty much 9 - 5 (and sometimes longer).  And I have a partner who, whilst out 11 1/2 hours for work on weekdays (because that's just life in Auckland) is a super hands on Daddy on the weekends.  And it's still this hard.  During the week Murray and I only have usually 15 minutes to an hour of being together and awake and not being screamed at.***  So most of the important conversations you normally have, and regular life events get missed because there just isn't time.  At the moment it's purely about survival for both of us.  And while we each try and support the other, for sanity's sake we also each have to put our own needs first.  After that of the screaming child (cos if their needs are met they might stop screaming for five minutes so we can pee or eat).

How do single parents do this?  How do people with families in other countries (or other parts of the country) do this?  These parents need medals (or maybe something more useful, like sleep) cos seriously - how the fuck do they survive it alone?  How do toddlers not get scurvy from surviving on toast and cereal?  How do subsequent children survive without being accidentally killed by their elder sibling?****

These things are the true miracles of parenting two under two (or a six week old and a two year old).

(image stolen from a friends Facebook page - completely accurate depiction)

* And she doesn't have reflux or silent reflux - I don't think so anyway.  She's gaining weight and not spilly although gets sore lower tummy stuff.  I've taken dairy out of my diet and it's helped with this immensely, but not with the having to be held all the time thing.  Next step is checking out osteopathy (once I've magically had a chance to talk to Murray about it, but who knows when that will happen).

** Or destroying the rest of the house if you shut them out of the room.  Or attempting to break down the door.  Both of which Etta has done when I have attempted this.  Mostly just while I'm attempting to feed Abby.

*** We spend most of it watching MKR and taking turns eating as too shell shocked to do much else.

**** And how do women manage to buy well fitting bras?  I mean, whilst juggling a crying newborn and a toddler who needs a leash and having to get specialty maternity bras cos Farmers doesn't seem to go much beyond an E cup and my F cup doth runneth over.  How do they manage to leave the house in clothes that fit well and don't make them look like a homeless person?  How do they manage to bend over to put shoes on whilst holding a baby?  So many questions!!!

Fourth attempt at blogging...

So this attempt I will keep things short and simple.

So much has happened in the last month.  In that slow way that life unfurls, not in the way that every day brings a party although I feel as sleep deprived as if that were the case.  I've had so much to write about but no brain, or time.  Well, I've had time, but all spare time has been for the most part dedicated to sleeping.  Well, attempting to at least.  Whilst other blog writings remain unfinished (not fitting my pants*, coping with the successful creative lives of my peers, general life catch up) we have recently hit some milestones I'd love to write about.

On Sunday Abby turned one month old.

Abby has been a very different newborn to Etta so we've gone through a bit of a learning curve.  While Etta was a dream wee baby sleepwise (until hitting sleep regression around 12 weeks) Abby is the kind of baby who almost only sleeps 'on' people.  This doesn't make for great sleep for me.  She is also a very good eater.  She is regularly gaining 300 - 500 grams a week because she feeds as much as she can.  She feeds to the point she makes herself overtired and screams and can't latch and I have to pop her in the sling and walk around until she falls asleep.  And while Etta needed silence to sleep, Abby is the opposite.  Constant, talking, bustling noise helps get her to sleep which has made sleeping overnight tricky.  It is getting better though.

In the first few weeks I was so desperate for sleep I was crying and begging Murray to just hold her and walk around so I could sleep for just one hour.  I have ended up regularly (safely) co-sleeping as it's the only way for both of us to get sleep at this stage.  While this makes me anxious, the anxiety trumps the zero sleep.  And things are getting better.  There are two times of day we can (currently) fairly religiously get her to sleep in her bed and that's better than not at all.

The good thing about subsequent new baby times is that you know things will get better.  So while this is hard, I know that it will not be like this forever.

If I knew then what I know now... Despite the difficulties I am so much more relaxed this second time around.  I am not convinced every second of every day that Abby will die if I don't do X Y Z.  I am less anal about tracking sleeps, breastfeeding and nappy changes.  I feel confident about my ability to be a parent.  I wish I could have felt like this with Etta so I could enjoy that quiet time at home with her that I seldom get with Abby.  It's nice to just sit on the couch breastfeeding and watching crappy TV and not thinking about anything bar how lovely and warm your baby is.  It's the first time I've ever actually understood why some people think baby's are cute.** 

On Monday Etta turned two years old. 

Etta has coped pretty well with the whole gaining a sibling thing.  Sure, she has jealous patches which make Abby's extensive need to feed tricky, but on the whole she's very sweet and understanding.  We've tried to keep her routine as normal as possible, and her days fairly full so she doesn't feel bored at home with boring Mummy, or resentful of my time with Abby.

And I could be wrong, but it feels like when Abby gets a bit bigger Etta will accept her as a person a bit more.  At the moment she's just kind of a 'thing' that takes up Mummy's time.  Etta smirks at her inability to sit up.  She puts her fingers in her ears when Abby cries.  She sneakily pats her body with her feet sometimes.  Once Abby's a little more interesting I'm sure this will change.  Maybe.

Etta decided to start using the potty (sometimes) two days after we got home from hospital.  Because of the timing we haven't pushed this instead letting her use the potty when she wants and applauding her for doing so successfully.  We have not shown her knickers yet.  I'm gonna wait until she's more ready (and I'm more ready).  As is, we've had a few breastfeeding sessions on the bathroom floor while Etta sits on the potty waiting for something to happen.

Etta is one of the funniest people I know.  She has an amazing sense of comic timing (has done from very young) and knows people will watch her if she does funny things.  She's a very sweet girl, but equally throws amazingly epic tantrums.  She hates wearing clothes and I have much Mummy guilt over not making her wear socks (too hard).  Her favourite colour is yellow and she loves owls, robots, pies, rice bubbles, Minions, Russian Dolls, drawing, singing and dancing.  She is impossible to feed vegetables to (except for some reason, cauliflower).  She is just wonderful and while sometimes she can make being a parent of a newbie hard (like this morning where she was screaming at the top of her lungs because she didn't want Abby to sleep, but Abby was actually asleep in her bed for a change) I still feel so lucky to be her Mum.

To help keep everyone sane, Etta now has stuff on almost every day.  She's just started Playcentre visits with my Mum so will be going Monday mornings to our local from 9.30am - 12.30pm.  And after we're over Winter, Abby and I will go with her on a Friday.  On Tuesdays she spends the day with her Nana and Poppa (instituted before Abby arrived so she doesn't feel 'kicked out' for the day).  Wednesday mornings her Nana takes her to swimming.  Some Thursdays she goes to our local story time and on Friday's my Mum visits to help out and she gets quality time with 'Ella' (what Etta calls Mum instead of 'Grandma') and with me - depending on what is most needed.  When Mum is here she also holds Abby during Etta's nap time so I can get some sleep.


Now Abby has awakened from her sling sleep and is screaming her face off, I'll leave things there.  I don't want to lose another post to the unfinished pile.  We are so lucky to have the help we do to survive this tricky but amazing time growing these two little people.

* This topic now being obsolete as now, thanks to Abby's amazing eating skills combined with my breastfeeding prowess, I do fit my pants despite existing on copious amounts of sugar, cheese and chocolate.

** This does not mean I find babies cute.  This does not mean we will have more babies.  Half the reason I am coping so well with the crazy times is because I know it's the last of the crazy times.  Quite permanent birth control measures are on the horizon.

And then a baby (additional info)

Wow!  Just re-read my last blog post and realised all the bits I missed and things that make little sense.  Not beating myself up as wrote it in that insanity that is the first week post baby but thought I'd catch you up on some things:

1) The reason I mentioned the 'accidents' is because I think they were my labour indicators.  My body was just so over being pregnant it decided to stop.  I'm super glad.  I was over being pregnant, and knew the likelihood was that my baby was big enough (given my large measurements) to be born so feel no guilt about that.

2) I may have aided baby coming when it did if you believe in old wives tales.  I had been eating induction cookies.  In part because I found the recipe and it looked amazing.  In part because I really wanted the baby to come and I was over it.  The cookies were fucking amazing.  I shared them with friends and family.  Seriously, they are tasty.  I made mine slightly spicier than the recipe (a little extra cayenne) and they were fab.

And the night before I went into labour we did have Indian food.  This wasn't to hurry the baby, but merely because it was our four year Civil Unionersary and we wanted to do something nice, but cheap (cos poor) so picked one of those dealio website deals at the closest restaurant in the cuisine we liked most and went for it.  We ended up at a place called Shor Bazaar in Lynfield which looked nice from their website but on arrival were a bit terrified (sandwiched between a KFC, a TAB and a Wendy's) but OMG it was awesome!  Although the deal was for a regular course, we ended up ordering starters and desserts and ate all things we'd never tried before - which is an achievement as I used to work in Indian restaurants and love and eat a LOT of Indian food.  I didn't order a spice level any higher than I normally would as wanted to enjoy the meal.  And no, I don't think eating curry made me go into labour.

3) Yes, I had a drug free birth (besides Panadol taken earlier that day for hip pain) but believe me, I was begging for drugs - there was just no time!  I had started going into transition before we even left for the hospital (hence my urgency) and because everything happened so fast I was not well pleased.  Because I could get into the water fairly quickly once at hospital though, I soon felt ok without drugs as had gotten over the shock of being in labour and found my groove.

4) I didn't realise or know how much blood I'd lost until a few days after having Abby.  I did know I was lying in a pool of my own blood, but had no idea how normal/abnormal that was as had never had a vaginal delivery before.  And I couldn't actually see how much blood there was - I just knew it was there.  I later found out I was very close to the amount of blood loss where you have to sound all the bells and whistles and get the Drs and people into the room - I am so glad I did not.  It was very nice having just me, Murray and Vanessa (my brilliant Midwife) in our little, private feeling delivery suite feeling awesome.

The only ill effects I noticed from this blood loss was that I was a bit shaky when I did get up for a shower (a couple of hours after having Abby), and was having some difficulty breathing (like when I was anaemic).  Luckily, I had a bag of treats and a few fistfuls of chocolate coated raisins and a cup of tea remedied this fairly quickly.

5) Murray freaked out a bit when Abby was born because she didn't cry (like on TV).  She was fine - it was just because of the delayed cord clamping.  She was also extremely chill for her first couple of days on this earth, and still is (touch wood) most of the time.  Whilst Murray had discussed cutting the cord, in the end he decided not to having done it with Etta and found it a little 'barbaric' after his last experience cutting the cord in the C Section, which we all decided was fair enough.

6) Abby was eleven days early - a week later exactly than Etta who was eighteen days early.  Abby weighed 7lb 8oz - Etta weighed 6lb 15oz - so had they been born at similar times I think they would have been similar weights.  However, Abby was/is SO FAT.  Like, she looks as though you could poke her tummy and she'd pop like a balloon.  Stark contrast to Etta who was a very skinny wee thing.  Abby is also super tall.  51cm at birth, and now 52cm just over a week on.

7) While we would have loved to go to the Helensville Birthing Units from Waitakere unfortunately, the inn was full.  April is a very popular month to give birth, so I wasn't surprised.  Retrospectively, it was great coming straight home as injected some normalcy into this whole thing for Etta.  She only had one night without Mummy and her routines haven't changed.  We figure the easier we can make the transition for her the easier she will make it for us.

8) We took a couple of days to name Abby as when she was born none of the names we'd had seemed quite right.  We did end up going back to a name we'd had in mind - one that Murray had chosen - but after we'd gotten to know her a bit better.  While Etta made her personality clear from before birth, Abby has been a little quieter so we needed a little time to get to know her better.  And while people grow into their monikers, they do have them for life (unless they hate it so much they change it) so it's nice to at least try to get it right.

9) I am so lucky to have had the Midwife I had.  I am glad that I trusted her decisions even in times I was a little anxious about them.  I am so grateful that I laboured under the current system (midwives) rather than the system my Mum laboured under (GP's).  There is no way a GP could have had the level of knowledge Vanessa had to get me comfortably through my pregnancy, labour and these early days with a new baby.  We are so, so lucky to have this in New Zealand.  I do think it's all about finding the right person for you, so if you are not happy, or at all uncomfortable with your Midwife, and have time do shop around.  It will make a trying time so much easier if you have the support that works for you and a good relationship with those giving it.  Especially if you are looking at having a VBAC.

10) I cannot express enough the difference between my emergency C Section and this natural labour.  Again, while I wasn't at all upset or anything by Etta's delivery, Abby's was just so much simpler even if her delivery was in some ways more hands on.  Recovering from a natural birth - even with a small tear and difficult delivery - has been so much faster and simpler than recovering from my C Section.  And with a full on toddler I was so grateful to have the opportunity for a natural birth.  Again, I was very low risk to try for a VBAC, so this choice will not be best for everyone.

For me even had this labour had resulted in another emergency C Section I would have been glad to have tried as because I had done the 'labour' thing before, this time I felt more comfortable with it - I wasn't at all scared.  And while labour is 'labour' and hard and sore, I managed to get to that place they talk about in hypnobirthing - mostly because I knew I would be ok, and I knew this was only for a short period of my life.

While Abby was not in the best of positions (head funny angle, shoulders around the wrong way, cord over shoulder) she was not face first or posterior which made for a much easier delivery.  While I'm sure it would have been possible to birth Etta naturally, it would have been very difficult and traumatic for both of us to have done so.  And while I am glad to have managed a natural birth this time (mostly so I am able to look after my busy toddler easier) I am so grateful to have had the option of a C Section with Etta.

and then a Baby!

Excuse the bad photos - we totally forgot the camera with all the rush but here is our new, bigger family.

So after what felt like a really long pregnancy, but was actually not very long at all, we got to meet that very active person who was living inside me at 11.34pm on Friday night.

In the days preceding labour I had two accidents. 

Wednesday was the only day I had home alone with Etta.  That morning she had been quite tantrummy, so despite being sore decided it best for us both to venture out on the bus to Henderson.  This went very well until just before home time where I tripped backward over one of those electric cable pole things that was inconveniently sticking out of the footpath in a bus stop.  Thankfully I fell onto the cushion of my butt, and besides being embarrassed, shaken and glad the pram didn't roll into the busy thoroughfare, pretty much unscathed.*

On Thursday after hanging out some washing Etta (unsurprisingly) decided she wanted some more outside play time.  Me, not being someone who likes to waste time, decided I could maybe pull some of the overgrown grass off the footpath so Etta would stop injuring herself attempting to wade through that jungle.  I got a few pavers uncovered when I experienced some of the sharpest pain I ever randomly had. 

The whole of the left side of my abdomen was on fire - it hurt to walk and breathe.  I called my Midwife to check it out and it was just muscular, but still ridiculously sore.  I had a fun time coercing Etta into the safety of inside the house without picking her up (as couldn't) and then she pooed at exactly the least convenient moment ever - the most painful nappy change of my life.  I couldn't rest or get myself better so had Etta's Nana come and get her early (she was gonna hang with her later anyway as it was Murray and my 4th Civil Union Anniversary) so I could rest.  After 15 minutes of being able to actually sit down with a wheat pack on my side I felt like a fully functional human again.**  Which was great as meant we could go out and celebrate our anniversary with some amazingly good curry (and still be home for bed by 9pm).

Phew!  Then on Friday I just felt crampy and generally crappy.  But having felt like that many days over the last few weeks I didn't think anything of it.  Mum was over to help out with Etta and we had a pretty relaxed day.  We got another grocery shop done and had a little tidy.  I had home-made pizza premade in the freezer so we had that for dinner.  All was pretty normal really apart from having smashed my body in the two days before and being much more uncoordinated than usual.

Now before I share the nitty gritty of labour I want to preface it by saying:
1) I bitch and moan but I actually had a complications free pregnancy
2) I am generally (besides my guts and brain) a very healthy person
3) My last emergency C Section was due to baby's positioning
4) I have an extremely supportive Midwife that I have a great relationship with

What I'm trying to say is, I was really very low risk for anything going badly wrong with a VBAC.

Now I can continue.

Straight after large pizza dinner while sitting on the couch I felt and heard a 'pop'.  I was pretty sure my waters had broken, but after mad dash to the bathroom there was only a little discharge.  After a second little 'flow' thingee I put my incontinence pants on as knew something was up but wasn't really sure as it was completely different from the dam bust that was my waters with Etta.  Then the contractions started.

That was a shock.

With Etta I had a 17 hour labour which started with fairly mild contractions following my waters breaking (very obviously) - so I didn't experience strong contractions until after almost 7 hours of smaller ones building up.  This time it was just strong contractions lasting 1 - 2 minutes 3 - 5 minutes apart straight off the bat.  I got Murray to call our Midwife to let her know, and my Mum to come to our place.  This was for sure labour, and despite wanting to labour at home as long as possible, I felt we were pretty much there - this was more consistent than my contractions ever were when I was in labour with Etta.  Despite being advised to re-examine things when Mum arrived after half an hour I was like nope, hospital now.***

I was right.  We were 5cm dilated when we arrived at Waitakere and I was not happy.  I was begging for drugs but needed a little fetal monitoring before we could do anything.  The bath had been running before we got there and my fab Midwife did the monitoring and internal exam ASAP when we arrived and for as little time as possible - I think probably less than 20 minutes.  I didn't have an IV inserted - I didn't even think about it as was going into transition.  As soon as possible I hopped into the birthing pool (it wasn't full enough yet) and continued labouring there.

Oh dear lord I love birthing pools!  It took me a little bit, but I managed to get into a far more zen state than I had with Etta.  I just breathed through the contractions kneeling in the bath resting my chin on top of the bath and told myself this wouldn't take long - this wasn't forever and did the whole 'each contraction brings me closer to my baby' bollocks (secretly followed by the 'I just need to get through this and I won't be pregnant ever again' mantra).  And it helped.  I was seriously only in the pool about half an hour when I started feeling the urge to push and had the go ahead to go for it.

It would be lovely if I could tell you it was like all those labours where they're like 'and I did three big pushes and then we had a baby', but that wasn't the case.  The pushing part of this labour was as long as the previous part, so it was hard slog.  We pushed in the bath for about half an hour, then decided to move positions to see if we could get some more stuff going on.  So moved to the bed and did like a rested squat pushing thing.  This did get some movement happening, but again, it was slow, so then we moved into that awful position people are in in the movies.  This was initially uncomfortable, but was obviously progressing things so I just focused on the job at hand.

There was a period of worry.  With Etta we got to 'the corner' and she just kept slipping back.  When we got to that point this time it seemed like it might happen again - only it didn't.  While this baby slipped back a little both Murray and my Midwife reassured me pretty much every push was getting a little more traction which helped keep me on track.  My Midwife said we were so progressed this baby was going to be a vaginal delivery no matter what so I did what I could to make that happen.

It still took time.  It got to the point where I could see the baby's head too (via a mirror) and was so like 'it MUST be going to be some time in the next few pushes!' and it still wasn't.  Eventually it got to the point where the baby was out to the eyebrows and then team Murray/Midwife were like 'just give it all the weetbix you've got!' so I figured something might happen.

In the birthing videos and movies I've seen this is the part where the Mum gives a really epic screamy push and the head slowly pops out, and then the body kinda slithers out like a worm - so that's kinda what I thought would happen.  It didn't.  The baby's head came out on a slight angle, and then her shoulders were around the wrong way and her cord was looped over one shoulder and was being compressed.  So my Midwife did some serious crazy quick handwork (whilst also trying to keep a thumb on a vaginal tear that was just opening up and dealing with a woman with a head coming out of her vagina), which, while it took some time and was quite scary (and fucking sore) from where I was sitting was the magic that got us a healthy baby in the end.

So out she popped covered in vernix and slime and slopped onto my chest and promptly shat meconium everywhere.  She was soooo ugly!  She was quite battered from the birth with a fair few bruises and an actually black nose and very cold from the shoulder/cord issues.  We waited for the cord to stop pulsing, but were on a bit of a timer as my Midwife wanted the placenta out quickly as I was bleeding quite a bit and she wasn't sure how bad the tear I'd had was.  So we did have some delay on clamping, but then all systems go with an injection to bring out the placenta (like birthing a giant steak - simple compared to what came prior) so she could make sure I was ok.

I was.  I didn't need any stitches.  When I saw the bloodbath a while later I could understand the concern, and I could understand why Murray had moved to the head end of things.  He has subsequently said the manipulations required down there to get our new one born was the goriest thing he'd ever seen, and basically I have props for life for going through that.  I was fine though.  I had my new baby and was no longer pregnant and it only took about four hours to get through that whole thing!

And then we had some chill time in the delivery suite.  Because it was all so fast, none of the other hospital staff had any idea we'd even had a baby.  At some point out in the corridor we heard a nurse ask our Midwife how progressed I was, and she was like 'we had a baby about an hour ago'.  It was really nice.  Whilst I was totally happy with Etta's birth, this was a very different experience.  I guess it felt more personal - I don't really know how else to put it.  It was just us three (and our baby) for all the things you don't really want other people to see.  Nothing was medicalised.  I had one needle prick.  The only drugs I had had were Panadol, and within a couple of hours I was walking around and had a shower and peed and it was quite surreal.

I was home proper after about 13 hours after going in to hospital.

There is much more to say about this, but I will continue on another day.  Our toddler is playing with Mum outside in the sun, Murray's gone out to have some well deserved time to himself and our new little girl, Abby, is just waking up after a deliciously long nap.

*It did make my bad hip a bit worse, so from then until post labour I had a bit of a limp and was a bit sore.  

** The BIG difference between being pregnant with children, and being pregnant without.  The big difference between life with and without children in general!

*** Again, our fantastic neighbour saved the day as our stop gap.  Sooo lucky to have the neighbours we have.