When The Doctor Was Born

My firstborn. My heart. I remember waking with a sore back. I knew the sign. Matt had long gone to work. I had a plan to meet my sister for shopping. I knew I was in pre-labour, but who knew how long that would last? And as if birth was going to get between me and a cash register. No way Jose.

I drove off to meet my sister, all the while my back pain increasing, a sneaky contraction here and there. I sent Matt an SMS "It's a nice day for a baby" to which he didn't reply (I later learnt his battery was almost dead).

My sister and I shopped. Things were ramping up. I could feel that baby was coming. I went back to my sister's house to watch some waterbirth movies. I'd heard that watching these can bring things on a little quicker. After my movie time was over, I drove home. I don't really remember that drive, but I do remember pulling into our driveway and my father-in-law and a handyman telling me that they were doing some jobs around the house. Fabulous timing because all I wanted to do was crawl into a steamy hot bath and say vamoose to the sore back. I did. I threw caution to the wind. I got in that bath. Then got out. Dressed. Decided to go for a walk to get some things to make Labour Aid. Clearly I was delusional. I walked the two kilometres and all the while my contractions were coming on stronger, more rhythmically.

I stopped off at our local Blockbuster and as any reasonable labouring woman would do, I hired Sex and the City. I remember standing in the store experiencing a contraction. Breathing. Hmmm. Hoping no one would notice a heavily pregnant, heavily breathing woman.

When I checked out the DVDs the guy said a cheery 'see you on Sunday' - and I thought - no buster, you won't. I'm about to have a baby. Overdues - I'll see you sooner.

I don't know how I got home on that long walk, but I know I had to stop here and there to rest. Breathe. Breathe. Open.

I walked home. Made Labour Aid. Got lemon juice all over the floor. Bottled my Labour Aid. Rested. Another bath?

Matt finally come home and I remember my aching body being held in his arms. Ah relief!

We had a quiet dinner together (hey - things can get a little rowdy around here), and went off to bed. I slept until around 1am when things started really ramping. And I vomited (there's an ongoing theme of vomit here lately, isn't there?). I had all the lights off. I hate lights when I feel unwell. I am an animal in the dark. I sit in the bath again. I feel my contractions. I feel them grow ever stronger. I get out because the bath isn't hot enough. Matt's still sleeping. How ever do men sleep through such a mad racket?

Finally, around 2am Matt came out to find me labouring away, I think by this stage I was back in the bath. We decided to call my sister who was coming with us, driving us to the hospital and who would be with us throughout the birth.

I sat in the darkest room in our house. Matt kept turning lights on. I kept turning them off. Breathe. We were in touch with the midwife, and we knew we had a 40 minute drive ahead. The midwife tried to stave us off, but I knew we had to go. I was ready to go. We clambered into the car. My fashion sense clearly thrown out the window. Me in Matt's old paint splattered tracksuit pants, a very worn, almost transparent t-shirt of a Chinese woman smoking an opium pipe (?), Birkos and a quilted cotton Chinese jacket. Very continental. I'm sure the world has never seen such haphazard styling before.

My sister drove like the clappers. Down the highway, I felt every bump. Every single bump in my bump. In my heaving body. Breathe. Hold the seatbelt away. Drive behind a garbage truck. Thankfully it was 3:30am by this time. Traffic was clear. This baby had good timing. And then the Labour Aid exploded all over my foot. Excellent.

We arrived at the hospital and the guy at the front desk insisted we fill out the forms before going up to the Birth Centre. Then I, leaning over the reception desk let out an almighty moan and he realised I was in labour, so reluctantly let us go up. We went up and went into our room. Dark. Quiet. The midwife expected me to be 3cm dialated. Instead I was 8.

Briskly (as brisk as any labouring woman can) I tore off my clothes (I couldn't bear my fashion genius any longer - truth be, I can't stand being dressed when feeling ill either - must be dark, must be naked - how wrong does that sound when typed?) and got into that bath. Oh that bath. That gloriously deep, seductive and calming bath. Hot! Hot! Hot! I laboured away for the next couple of hours in that bath.

Matt had a sleep. MATT HAD A SLEEP! --- Apparently just another day in the office for him. Meanwhile...

My contractions became more and more fierce, I rode them out, but I was growing tired. I held Matt's and my sister's hands. And then my contractions. My contractions - they damn well stopped! I had to get out of the bath because apparently I was too relaxed. Damn it. There goes my water birth. All throughout the birth our wonderful ante-natal teacher had been calling us to see how things were doing. That woman is a guru.

I got comfy on that birthing ball and cushions, propped up.

And after two hours of puuuuuuushing, (and me going, I can't do it, I can't do it - and everyone else saying - you ARE doing it, you ARE doing it, and then me going - COME ON! Lleyton Hewitt stylie) that big-headed, cone-headed, Mohawk-ed baby finally, finally came out.

That there friends is how the Doctor arrived. 10:02am on the 20th May.

Sold! To The Lady With The Voice.

This was my name last weekend. 'The lady with the voice.' I went to my first estate auction. 600 lots of pre-loved goodies. 600 lots. Count 'em. Do you know how long this took. All. Day. Talk about dedicated.

Along with being known as 'the lady with the voice' I was also known as 'the lady with the red and white hat', but I prefer having a voice. I was way up the back (in the cheap seats) bidding on whatever anyone else didn't want (read: looking for bargains of the vintage kind).

One of the lots I managed to snaffle was a vintage cot - but was really a whole lot of goodness to the sweet tune of - wait for it - wait for it - $5.

$5!

Included in the lot was this ridiculously cute dolly cradle that Tiny thinks might be her new bed. While she is sorely mistaken, it is a cute beddy bed for her dolly, though Tiny has beaten her to it and is lying in it in anticipation for her own bed time.

Apologies for the blurry photos but it's difficult to negotiate lying still with a 14 month old with arms and legs a-flapping.

PS - It's Mrs Bug and Pop's birthday today. Go on over and give her some birthday wishes. She's had a big week doing this.

Blueberries & Blackbirds

My baby loves to eat blueberries. I'm not just talking a couple here and there. I give her a few, she gobbles them up. Then sits there pointing at the other blueberries that are just out of her reach, and if I don't see her pointing, she screeches at me. She's on a punnet a day habit.

Like one of my friends said yesterday, she's going to live 'til she's 900 on all those anti-oxidants. Damn fools, the girl sure does love blueberries.

We've not been doing much. It's so hot. Our air-con has gone - poof!- it's not working, so we're best friends with the fans, and sitting very, very still. I've even taking to going to large shopping centres purely to enjoy their air-conditioning.

Yesterday we went for a post-storm swim. The rain was even cold. Strangely, there was steam coming off the footpath following the short stretch of rain. It's too damn hot.

Here are a list of other things it's too damn hot for:

- baking - no amount of oven time is currently acceptable

- scarves - no, no, no - strictly no scarves

- jeans - eek - jeans are not sweltering weather-wear
- hot food - we're into anything served cold

- too much physical activity - we're strictly slothing it at the mo'

As for The Doctor, I find him sneaking out of his bedroom after bedtime. I find him looking out our kitchen door into the trees. He turns to me and says, "Mum, look at that beautiful bird." I look up and see a big, black crow, resplendent in his feathers. It's Summer here and the city is hot.

High Fives All 'Round - The New Year Is Here... Just In Case You Missed It.

Because as you know, I missed it. Woke up for a quick feed at 11:30pm, and was back in bed, back to sleep at 11:47pm. How's that for timing? Awesome I tell you! I didn't have to dance around the room with strangers screeching Auld Lang Syne. Didn't have to make small talk with strangers. Didn't have to fight for a view of the fireworks. Didn't have to do anything except close my eyes and fall into the deepest sleep possible.

Welcome 2009.


We celebrated the first day with a visit to the beach. We spotted two dolphins arcing off the water near some surfers. Tiny's first foray into the sand. And didn't she love it? She crawled off into the sand and had to be chased a number of times. She had crazylegs at the sight of the waves, and then the cool water crashing over her.

The Doctor went crazy for construction. Dig, dig, digging. Unfortunately in his haste to pack all his diggers and construction vehicles, he forgot to include a bucket. Kind of integral to building in sand. Fear not, we made do with my drink bottle and built and built and built.

We only stayed a short time. Being moontanners, the sun does unkind things to our skin, and I'm not mad for collecting melanomas and sun spots.


New Year's Resolutions, I hear you ask?


Hmm. I sigh in response. I always forget them within a week. But I'm inspired by Pip's. But I'll add another two key words for our family:


- declutter - key for me, particularly after the bin episodes.
- awakenings. As in, we're going to be doing some things differently around here. And it's going to feel fresher than fresh. Fresher than brand spankin' new. Awakenings are good.
- Play. Enjoy it. Get down on the floor and play.

- Oh and one last thing. Apparently I have a bit of a computer love going on. Apparently I need to spend less time with my laptop, and more with the man-child. so i guess that will be happening too. Ahem.

Happy New Year. Hope it's super sparkly.

Sweet Babe

How is it that you're almost 11 months? It's true that once you have children time seems to pass by in a blur. Soon you'll turn one my Tiny baby. That should be illegal. It should go slower.

Now you're:

- commando crawling around the house at lightning speed
- biting me with your six teeth and smiling when I feed you, I say no, you say yes with your cheeky smile and chomping of your teeth. Ouch!
- enjoying tossing food overboard from your highchair, and looking down to survey the damage
- getting into the Doctor's bedroom to check out this and that
- talking Mama, baba, Dada. I'm trying to get your tongue around the Doctor.

You, my sweet babe, are a delight.

A Leaky Old Boat

After some green playdough was pulled out of the cupboard this morning for my son and my nephew, I realised how old and dry it was. I quickly whipped up two new batches. One pale pink. The other Tiffany blue. Oh how fab. Sadly, the Doctor didn't see my vision, he just merged them together to make an inky green-purple. Hmph! And then promptly stuck his trains in them. Double HMPH!

We're now in the midst of trying to get him down for a brief one hour sleep. He is stubborn, that's for certain. We've told him we're going to yum cha once he wakes up, but that still doesn't seem to harness his never-dulled enthusiasm for trains. He's now playing with them on the floor of his bedroom. I've tried bribing him with the lobsters and the crabs that he'll see - and still he's not going to sleep. Doubly frustrating when he didn't go to bed til 10:15pm two nights running, and still doesn't sleep in.When will his batteries run out?

Meanwhile, in another room, our babe is sleeping soundly. A triumph.

Speaking of sleeping, this week has been one of those weeks I haven't been doing too well. My day sleeps which were ceremoniously part of my day have dwindled. Heath Ledger's death stuck in my mind and I couldn't shake thinking about it. His poor baby girl. His sad family. Oh what a life.

Then my mum arrived, and I hate going to sleep when she's around, I might miss out on something.

So needless to say, I look forward to bed at night. We're still feeding three hourly most nights which isn't so bad, given my track record with mastitis. Though, our bed has transformed into a bit of a leaky boat. I switched breast pads momentarily, I usually like the Pigeon breast pads, but thought I'd try something different (hey, here's a bit of mummy based fickle consumerism) and bought the Johnson & Johnson ones.. Big mistake. My first night I kept waking up feeling wet and cold. Wet and cold are two adjectives that don't conjure good feelings for me. When sleep is already a luxury, waking up feeling wet and cold ain't good sisters. It ain't no good at all.

So there's my red hot tip on breast pads. If you're reading this, and not had babies yet - don't be disturbed, it's really not that bad. It's just a matter of comfort, and when I'm not comfortable I am grumpy.

Bah humbug!