Category Archives: Baby Boy Arrival

High Times

Today is the first day of the third month of our lives this 2011th year AD.

Oh! Such a grand introduction for a day, a blip in our lives, and immensely less than an audible grain of sand in the age’d old thing- our Universe.

Though today, I am forced to concentrate on my tiny human anxieties and desires, as minute in the grand scheme as they may be.

He goes into hospital tomorrow.

Some may say, myself being one of them! That I can be a little more  openly self-righteous than I  really should. Worrying about the unfurled events of tomorrow and tomorrow is a wasted schlop of energy, I would say, which is agreed upon by every religion and common sense expert in the world. I assume. (There I go again…) So in knowing this, why can’t I turn it off?

Why do I find myself walking into rooms to get something and completely forgetting what it was, why i’m in this room and what my name is… The last one is exaggerated of course, I haven’t had some kind of aneurism.

I think It’s the distraction, the thinking without realising the thinking! The suppressed worrying that keeps the brain all spiky at bedtime. I have nothing but admiration for the parents who have terribly ill children, they must be real troopers.

Why doesn’t anyone write in those lovely clinical pregnancy books that two well known emotions truly peak when a child is born- Guilt and worry. Go away worry! You can take a hike too guilt!

Sigh. For goodness sake, it’s DAY surgery! He’s a healthy butter ball, just a correctional operation. Silly brain!

On the other view, these emotions are so primal, so beautifully uncontrollable and necessary if we were protecting our young against the proverbial Sabre Tooth Tiger.

Amazing.

He won’t care, he won’t know! Imagine the freedom to be unaware of our own mortality. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Orright. Cuppa tea time.


6 Weeks In- Hungry Little Caterpillar

I just love those Maternal Health Nurse types. The one I have this time is lovely, honestly. Where she thrives simply enhances just how effing horrendous my last MHN with the first baby was.

I was warned, this time, that a growing spurt commences at around the age of 6 weeks, and as textbook as you could be, little J has been driving me nutters today!

My question last time of “Why is The Chicken not sleeping so much suddenly, why is she not latching on properly and crying when she should be eating?”

Reply: “Oh, they start doing that at this age…”

For how long? Forever and why? No answer. Bitch.

On a positive note, my desperate exhaustion and confusion are both put in their place by a quick search on Google – What to expect from a growth spurt.

The little guy is HUGE (which rather opposes the title of ‘little’ guy), he weighs more than The Chicken did at 17 weeks of age. He will one day be able to crush me with his hugs. SnAp!

I still have trouble getting used to the idea the he will one day be a hairy, stinky man. I also still have some trouble with the fact that my round headed pretty little boy has, well, balls…

I have been invited to a couple of outings, and I know I can’t make it to some. In fact, anything too energetic may have to wait till around Christmas time, emotionally and physically. I’ll be damned if surgery recovery is going to take a year! (I read one women’s account after she decided to go for a brisk walk 5 weeks after surgery and busted her gut open). Plus, i’m too tired! Someone just pick me up, take me to a cafe and feed me watered down coffee beans please. Oh, and take me to buy pretty things. Not clothes though, Lord knows there’s another 10 kilo’s schlepped around me to shed before i’d even consider a pretty pair of anything.

Sez this spoilt puppy on her new MacBook, and since it’s 1am and i’m waiting for the Caterpillar to pass out inside his fabric chrysalis I am sipping on chamomile tea. In the hopes, highest of high, that I can flutter away blissfully to the Land of Nod.

Until 4am (one hopes) to do it all again.


A Month In – Part 1

4 weeks galloped steadily past, though, not without my noticing.

The little guy is a month old. Guzzling his way quickly to chubbiness too.

I wish that Sienna and I had an ideal start. They say you  gaze into their little filmy focus-less eyes and fall instantly in Love. In a way, sure! She was my baby, my soft sweet smelling little darling. “Read a book to her” they said. “Talk to her!” Say what!? I knew nothing of babies!

Could she even see me? Why did she cry so much and sleep so little? Was it because she hates me? Why does breast feeding hurt so much? Would this ever get easier?

Honestly, I was too busy trying to be a perfect Mummy and so completely overwhelmed that the contemplation never occurred to me. In fact, I lost all my baby weight in… I don’t know how long. Simply from forgetting to eat most of the time. When did my pregger belly go away? I don’t remember, too busy to take notice!

I love my little girl SO much! It was more a journey of discovery for the both of us. Especially at the start, and then the life altering, heart attacking adoration for this kid grew daily. Still does now, and I wonder how any room could possibly remain inside of me. Or be available for the next little chicken.

Josh is lucky, this time I know what i’m doing, and what a wonderful little creature he is becoming daily. It was all because of her that it comes so easily now. Everything will be easier with him because Sienna and I tackled anything that could possibly come up (besides anything truly terrible) with gusto!

For a few days, I was sad to leave hospital. It was different this time, even with the drugs and the constipation and the whole ‘major surgery’ thing, I have bounced back very well. Disturbingly well. He was the perfect little baby, hardly a squeak when awake, and fairly easy to put back to sleep which was always for a length of 3 hours-ish.

I marvelled at his perfectly round head (from the cesarean) and already chubby cheeks. He is blonde and practically hairless, which completely threw me. Sienna was such a hairy little bugger. Also, he has no eyebrows, and the tiniest prickles of eyelashes, if you look very closely and the light is just right.

The most remarkable thing is his smell, his amazing new baby smell. I spent hours in that hospital room touching my nose to his head, as his huffy breathing became slower into a gurgly sleep. To me, his head is like a soft, warm horses nose.

All I had to do was cuddle, feed and change him. No other responsibilities, AND they brought me food. No wonder I was sad to leave!

I have to go and have the bath I’ve been promising myself all night, after finally getting those two to bed while Husband is at CFA training! Stay tuned for Part 2 of this post. Off I go with my exhaustion and I, Robot on my iPhone.

x


Our New Little Man

I slept quite well the night before the surgery. I booked myself in electively to bring little Baby Brother into the world at 8am on the 8/7/2010, knowing full well how very lucky that date and time would be if we were Chinese. Therefore both our babies would be born on the 8th of their respective months. One’s an Aries and the new one would be a Cancer.

I checked out everything with numerology too, and that seemed to scratch a big tick for the promise of family harmony.

Come on now! There’s nothing wrong with being a little kooky at a time like this! Everything simply had to be right in the universe for our babies, just in case.

 I was excited and anxious and quickly wide awake when the alarm sounded at 5am. I don’t remember wondering or worrying about how I would recover after the surgery, I remember enjoying the heat of the shower, looking down at the orb which hid my legs from me and dressing quickly in the clothes I’d set out the night before. I was brimming with anticipation! I love leaving the house to do something exciting when the world is dark and still in the wee hours of the morning. Ever since I was a kid. It’s like waiting backstage before the thrill of a performance. T0day was wrapped up like a present.

 Adventure!

 The hospital is merely around the corner from our house really, in the beautiful town of Berwick, Victoria. We were shown to my ‘suite’ (which was very nice, and much like a hotel room except for the buttons and flashing lights on the back wall). A charming midwife gave us some forms to fill, placed a colorful identification card into a hospital crib and beside it- a tiny knitted blue beanie.

I smiled broadly. I sparkled with excitement. My mind could see his little head filling it up with that amazing baby smell.

A very Australian and tall male nurse came in with a couple of others and gave me one of the smocks that expose your buttocks and a papery shower cap. Husband too (not the buttocks-wear, more a Doctor’s scrubs and the same hat.)

Onto a wheelie-bed went I, and zoom! Off to the main stage. I wondered why I needed to be wheeled when I was perfectly capable of walking then I remembered the buttock-smock…

I don’t know if anyone else does this, but I was interested in my reaction to the whole situation, I tend to sit back and watch myself like my own personal Freud.

Strange, I know.

My eyes were darting around like an excited kid and I didn’t really wonder about anything, and I can pretty much remember every door we zoomed past, and every face looking down at me from around the bed. They were talking and joking and very pleasant. I was a kid on the slow part of the roller coaster, gaining momentum, excitement and tingly terror as I approached the first big dip.

 I felt like the main attraction on a very bright stage as nurses and the anesthetist introduced themselves to me. Then Doctor Yong came in, dressed up, smiling his big Chinese Cheshire grin (and I mean that in the nicest way!)

First thing first- Spinal block..

 Yup. It hurt.

The kind of hurt that makes your body, unless you place full attention to the opposite, want to throw itself across the room shrieking like a mad banshee. It’s an involuntary thing I think, because it was very very important for me to stay still and it took all my sternest thoughts to remain sitting on that bed. I have experienced worse pain, believe me, so it was funny and probably just a reaction to the sharpness of it. The nurse told me to stop laughing because it was making me move around dangerously.

Moments after this my legs were lifted and flopped carefully onto the table, and a big alien autopsy light hovered over my, ahem, private areas and protruding stomach. I was stilling my mind and mentally examining the pins and needles in my legs that gradually became busier, and busier. Like millions of tiny bees filling them up. He did the ice test to see if I could feel anything. It was interesting! Brendan eventually came in and took me by the hand, I wasn’t scared but I was glad to see him there and certainly felt comforted. “You have to tell me what’s happening” I informed him sternly. “You can make it gory too.”

A large curtain cut my visual perception away from the surgery itself. That was fine by me. I wanted to see what it would feel like without pain or seeing it.

“You will feel pushing and tugging” the Doc told me. I didn’t mind the pushing part, but the tugging sounded a little gross. I hoped that he would remember to put my pancreas back in. (For the record, none of my organs were harmed during the birth of this child).

I certainly felt pushing, and heard sucking noises (my blood went into the tube, and nothing else of importance, ie- my kidney remained were it was supposed to be).  It was like my belly was the sea and these people were trying to catch the biggest wave. Bren made lots of facial expressions and couldn’t seem to put into words what was happening. So much for my running commentary! There was more heavy pushing and then Husband’s face lit up and his hand pushed against mine.

 He was here!

 I watched as the nurses ran towards a table with a shimmering blue baby, who became pink quite quickly. On went the blue beanie and after some prodding and throat checking he was wrapped up and shown to me. I had tears, it was a beautiful moment. This time I didn’t have to suffer for 29 hours to get to this point. It was dramatic and wonderful and mostly painless. Only took about 30 mins too! I know people say this sort of thing all the time but I was without doubt in Love with him already. I just wanted to touch him, but I didn’t mind that Bren went away with him to have the all important APGAR test while they stitched me up and fried the leaky bits.

I could smell burning flesh and it made me hungry. Gross.

The wheeling back to my room is a little hazy, I suppose things really started to spin around in my head from that moment so nothing is solidified as an etched in memory snap-shot of all that I thought. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps I could lay there buzzing with happiness without documenting or judging how I felt.

Eventually we were alone in my lovely room, with our new little Man.


Tomorrow, tomorrow…

Holy cripes and criminy! The big moment is a mere 13 hours and 46 minutes away. We have to be admitted at about 6am to get all readied up for the big operation.

I asked some questions of the Doctor today, can I die? Lol. Can Bren watch the procedure, can he take video of the actual birth? (That’s a no…) Photo’s only. Then we went to the movies for the first time as a family to see Toy Story 3, Sienna was great! She’s definitely ready to go to the cinemas now. Even though she needed to use the toilet twice during the movie, we rewarded her with some ice-cream afterwards. Mmmm!

Work stuff is organised I think, clothes are somewhat sorted, The Chicken is at Mum’s tonight… Here’s where I got blubbery. When The Chicken was about to leave, I gave her a kiss and suddenly her little eyes squeezed together, her mouth dropped into a tiny mountain and a tear squished along the bridge of her nose. I said: “Sisi, what’s wrong?”

“Mummy… I want you.” 10 cuddles later. “Mummy, I need one more cuddle…” Of course I was saying things like: “I’ll see you tomorrow, you’re having a sleep over party! Paint me a picture ok?” but none of it seemed to work. It was as though she was saying good-bye to ‘us’. The the very idea of just the three of us. Perhaps this is how I feel, worried that she’ll think my possibly lesser personal attention in future will mean the worst- We don’t love her as much anymore.

I hate palming her off to grandparents at the moment, though we do it all the time. Oddly i’m not too worried about the birth, and the idea of having a ‘Baby Brother’ are still words with the promise of something inevitable, even though I can feel him edging around in there. How she feels about the whole tirade, her fragmented understanding of it, is the main concern to me I think. This isn’t even the longest time I have been away from her! We’ve been on holidays without her for a week in the past! This time though, her routine world will be tumbled upside down.

The more I write those things down, the more unpredictable they seem, and I guess, silly. This is a time for rejoice! We will be a complete family! Basically, I should go now and ensure that all the controllable things are in line for tomorrow morning. Everything else will happen and we will deal with it and learn from it and we’ll meet our little Son.

She will still be my favourite girl in the whole world, and she knows it. So no more sad energy, Mummy! Get the cameras ready for the first meeting.

(Is it wrong to hope that Bren will buy me one of those 12 year old bottles of bourbon as a present?) For after I finish breastfeeding, promise!

Wish us wellbeing!


Damn Cat…

Wow. 2 MORE SLEEPS!

We, The Chicken and I, slept in this morning. Slept in until I realised that the carpet cleaning man was going to be at our front door in 20 minutes, then I got up rather quickly indeed. Seems the cat has been marking some territory, meaning the carpet, near the very pet door he usually uses to ‘take it outside’. I am Man enough to admit to my Mother when she’s right, when we sprayed some ‘Urine-Off’ onto the carpet on what I insisted to be an old stain, then plastic over it according to the instructions and, lo! In the morning there puddled a pint of piss. Damn cat.

The carpet man was lovely and treated the extra stains with his fancy stuff and wished me well. Then Jean-the-cleaning-machine came over and completed the rest of the house, The Chicken went to grandparents for a few hours and I relaxed, till Mother came over and we went to a breast enlargement seminar. Lemme get this straight, I ain’t getting no breast enlargement, but the seminar was supposed to be about ‘lifts’ as well… which it friggin wasn’t. Now I know all about breast enlargements, and I am doubly and even completely sure they’re not for me. I ate their nibblies and guzzled their Solo and will be back for my free chemical peel. Breast enlargements? Not for this little white duck.

The Chicken did something very cute tonight after being at Grandparents, she patted my tummy and said oh-so casually “Hello Baby!” Then I chased her around the house with my belly out shouting- “Baby Brother’s gunna kiss yoooou! Woooooh!” Eewww, boy germs.

The anaesthesiologist (sp?) called me today to ask some medical questions. I thought he was an Indian telemarketer and spoke to him rather coldly until I realised he’s the guy with the drugs! He will be my bestest friend.

I’m one of those unkind people Kamahl talks about.

See you on the flip side!


Pain and Suffering

Apologies for the rant you are about to behold, I find myself feeling a little bit sorry tonight.

I want to roll out of bed in the morning, struggle out of my clothing, shower, flatten the hair, struggle back into my pyjamas and pack myself with pillows on the couch and not move all day. Well, only to eat the dozen times I seem to want to, and visit the toilet the hundred times I seem to need to.

I want to pack my responsibilities into a little compact powder puff case and slip them neatly into my handbag and forget about them. Into the zippered secret pocket on the inside, just in case some of the more urgent ones try to slip out through the cracks.    I was supposed to begin my ‘leave’ last Friday, but customers keep changing the rules on me. They say they’re in the area to drop their item off next Thursday to be completed for them. I reply that i’m in hospital GIVING BIRTH on the Thursday and they reply with- I’ll just leave it on your door then?

I do try to take it in my stride that customers are simply like that, selfish. Even the nicest ones who you swear truly have a halo over their heads, they still live in a ‘me’ box most of the time, and I find that it’s always the one’s that ‘understand’ the most because they’ve ‘been there’ that need the urgent hobby craft item completed before the end of the day even though it may have taken them 20 years to complete the item in the first place.

I don’t miss working for a boss until such a time arrives that I am ill need a holiday or, well, pregnant!

Next rant- Feeling like a crap Mummy at the moment. I’m propping myself and little chicken in front of the television more and more, I have trouble cleaning up after her and finding the energy to organise things to do while it storms and blusters outside. She loves to paint… for about five minutes then i’m on hands and knees helping her to clean it all up.  Then it’s Play Doh for another five minutes and we’re back at it again, picking up pieces of smooshed Doh from the catcher sheet. Cooking? If i’m in the mood to scrape up a dropped egg or overly enthusiastic flour mixture mixing debris. The park? Either sopping wet or i’m needed to “Push harder Mummy!” on the swing while my stomach muscles threaten to tear themselves from whatever insides they stick to currently, which is most likely my massive baby bubble. Poor little girl doesn’t understand. 😦

The main title rant is the gradually increasing painful places popping up like Berwick houses all over my body. Not contractions or anything wrong (I don’t think). The little guy is long, so he’s diving downwards which causes some bone grinding, and kicking upwards which has one of my ribs feeling a little less painless than it should, as though he’s testing out it’s flexibility. A mystery spot on my middle back pounds with pain all day also, i’m thinking another rib? Who knows. Poor miserable pregger chick. I would love someone to play with Sienna for me all day, but that would likely make my stupid brain feel worse, and some painkillers other than panadol would be JUUUUUST PEACHY!

I guess I should add the car-less situation to that list, but honestly, I don’t think i’m leaving this house much until the big day anyway.

Let’s go little boy, only a week to go! (Gawd help me..)


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