You know you're full term when...

Yes, I am still pregnant, thanks for asking.

No, it's not the longest gestation ever, and you implying that it is really starting to get on my nerves. It lost it's comedic charm about two weeks of sleepless nights ago.

The person who has asked me the most is, I believe, rather surprising. My Dad.

"Any movement at the station?" he says. Every. Fucking. Day.

Err, considering you're the one who is going to be looking after Tricky, you're the first person who is going to know when said movement occurs, trust me!

But rather than just whinge all day (whoops, too late), I've decided to just write down a list of ways you know you're full term. And for the uninitiated, full term is anywhere between 37 and 42 weeks. A massive 5 week window of "any time in here" with the official due date smack bang in the middle. Which, for a control freak who hates surprises, is really annoying.

So you know you're full term when:

• You are getting so little sleep that you're sure you'll get more with a newborn
• You pee at least five times a night, and during the day you need to go every seven and a half minutes
• On the way back from the toilet you seriously consider turning back and going again already, just to save time
• Rolling over in bed requires a system of levers and pulleys
• You can tell people how pregnant you are not just by week and day, but by countdown to your due date... in nanoseconds
• You spend half your dedicated online time researching how effective nipple stimulation is as an induction technique
• You comment on each of your husband's lovingly prepared dinners with "It's nice, but you could have put more chili in it..."
• Bouncing on a fit ball is your natural state
• The only thing you drink is raspberry leaf tea
• One Born Every Minute is on repeat on your TV
• Rubbing clary sage massage oil in to your belly and whispering "Come on, baby" becomes common place
• With every twinge you stop and wonder if this is it
• You need to restock your birth bag because you ate all the mini Mars Bars already
• You use every single piece of mapping software ever developed to compare routes to the Birth Centre at different times of day
• You feel like slapping everyone who asks if you've had the baby yet

How did you know you're "full term"?

On your marks, get set...

After ten hours spread over five weeks I'm now ready to be a parent... or so they say, now that Hubby and I have completed antenatal classes. You would think a fabulously decorative framed certificate would be on its way to us, but alas, it is not. I would settle for a 'how to' book though.

On Wednesday night at the final class we viewed the delivery suites (we were meant to look the first night but they were all full) which looked nice and comfy with lots of room to move around in. I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting but I it definitely hadn't thought there would be a mini fridge stocked with lemonade and juice, with tea & coffee making facilities (aka a kettle and a bunch of tea bags, but it sounds so much nicer to say it the other way), a little sink, a TV, phone and mood lighting. It felt more like a hotel room for a romantic getaway – the only giveaway being that the bed had stirrups hiding at the sides – although maybe some people take them on their holidays? Each to their own, I say.

At this point we learned that one of the couples in our group had already been in this room a few days before as the woman had gone in to early labour! She'd spent about twelve hours there, having regular contractions and a hell of a lot of drugs to try to stop them (it worked, she's still pregnant and all is well). On the upside, she got to watch 'Saving Private Ryan' on TV, which she'd always wanted to see.

We also got to try the Nitrous Oxide (laughing gas) that is used by some women to help ease the pain of contractions. The reason they let you try it first is that some people get very nauseous from it and it makes the whole experience much worse. A friend who tried it for the first time on the day of her labour (who now has a gorgeous 6 month old) said she felt drunk and out of control. Not a good thing when you're trying to concentrate to push out a baby. So because I've decided to go down the drug-free for as long as possible path, I figured I'd try it out because if I have to have anything, I'll go for the gas. Of course I was first chosen to try it...

In front of the group of about twenty, I stood with the midwife and got told how I should just hold the mask to my face and breathe in deeply. So I did. It was a very bizarre feeling and the gas hadn't even hit me yet. I felt like I was doing something naughty, something illegal... basically I felt like I was at a party from my uni days until I looked up and saw a room full of heavily pregnant women waiting for me to do something... anything. Three breaths and I was told to sit down. I wanted to giggle but only through embarrassment as all eyes were on me, waiting. I wasn't sure if it was working or not. I felt light headed like I'd had about three glasses of wine... or as I like to call it good tipsy (tipsy enough to relax a bit and have fun, but no hangover in the morning). And then it was gone. Only three other women in the class tried it and we all had the same reaction, none of us feeling sick. Then the men got to have a go... the women had tentatively held the mask and taken small, shallow breathes, but the men? Well they followed the instructions properly and sucked it back as hard as they could – they were here for a good time! Much laughing ensued as helium jokes started being thrown around and the men sat there waiting for a high that was just not going to come. As a bonus, no one threw up. Yay.

If communal drug taking wasn't a good enough high to end on (pun intended), the grand finale of the 'birth video' was about to begin. Hubby asked if he could possibly keep the gas next to him for this bit. I've seen birth videos before and they can range from Hollywood type soft focus to in your face gruesome reality. The video we saw was smack, bang in the middle and quite easy to watch – only a few 'money shots' that made you squirm. At one point I looked around at the faces in the room – the men had expressions “oh... um... ew” while most of the women were very blank! Maybe we were all in shock? Or trying to hide our fear? “That's gonna happen to me?! You've got to be kidding!”

The video ended and then that was it... it was all over. Time to go off an be parents. By ourselves! There were parting words of wisdom from the midwife and the reassurance that we could call at any time to ask for advice. I'm wondering if its hard to set up a permanent connection from my home phone to the midwifery desk? Just in case.

Bad blood

I have learned a few things from the antenatal classes Hubby and I have been attending these last few weeks and right up the top of the list is that if you have an opinion that differs ever so slightly from the midwife who runs our group, you are looked down upon like an unfit parent.

This week in class we were learning about cord blood banking – where the blood in the umbilical cord is harvested after birth and the stem cells within it are kept in a cryogenic bank for your own use later down the track (should your child or their siblings have a disease needing stem cell therapy) or donated to the public cord bank for whomever needs it (although WA doesn't have a public cord blood bank yet). So I put up my hand to ask if you could get enough cord blood if you were planning on delaying cord clamping after the birth (not clamping until the cord had stopped pulsating). Well, I was not Miss-Popular, I can tell you! I was met with a self important chuckle and the response “In short, yes you can still do it. But do you really want to make your baby so sick? Have him put under lights? And you can't breastfeed him you know!?”

Woah! What just happened there? Did the midwife who earlier had told us her job was to help and encourage you to make informed decisions just tell me off for being informed? I could feel my face flush with embarrassment and guilt. A young bloke in the class asked at this point what delayed cord clamping was and rather than explain to him the possible benefits and risks (see I'm not delusional, I know there are risks to everything), her answer to him was “Delayed cord clamping is when you delay clamping the cord”. Thanks, Captain Obvious, pretty sure he could have worked that out by himself. With a smirk she added “It causes jaundice which is very dangerous” and apparently that was the end of the discussion.

I'll point out here that delayed cord clamping has been associated with jaundice due to the extra red blood cells the baby's immature liver has to try to break down. According to the World Health Organisation the benefits of delayed cord clamping (increase in blood volume, lower mortality rates in cases of infant haemorrhage, increase in iron stores protecting from childhood anaemia) far outweigh the risks, especially in developed countries where jaundice (which most babies get to some extent anyway) is easily treatable. One of the main reasons immediate cord clamping was introduced in the first place was because of the injection of drugs given to speed up the delivery of the placenta, which can't be allowed to get to the baby – that's right, speed it all up so the doctors and nurses can go home early and not have to wait around for Mother Nature to do her stuff – she is such a bore you know.

So back to the class where I'd just been told off: The couple sitting next to Hubby and I leant over and said excitedly “We'll speak to you after OK?” So I spent the rest of the night half listening to the midwife telling me horror stories of how my body just won't cope and half wondering what the other couple were going to say.

At the end of the evening, we turned to the couple and found our birth soulmates! These people were not falling for the scaremongering and had conducted their own research too! We sat there chatting about what interventions we did and didn't want and why, which journal articles we had referenced and so on. These were two well educated, reasonable people and together we were being frowned upon as 'the hippies' bucking the medical system and endangering our children's lives. At the point where we were discussing birth plans the midwife walked over and interrupted us saying that it was stupid to have a plan, that you can't plan for these things because “it goes wrong all the time” Yep, her exact words. Gee thanks for the pep talk. What's so wrong about having a birth plan? I know that writing it down doesn't mean its going to happen, but it will help me and Hubby concentrate on our goal and lets the midwifery team assisting the obstetrician (who had told me to write one and has already signed off on mine saying he supports our wishes) know how they can best help us on the big day.

As they say, there is strength in numbers, and together the four of us managed to tell her we would still be having birth plans and yes we knew that birth was unpredictable. More remarkably was that the four of us also managed to restrain ourselves enough not to punch her in the jaw. We excused ourselves from the after class supper and carried on a clandestine conversation in the carpark where we learned that while we agreed on almost everything there were still a few points where we had very different opinions – but that was OK too, and it was nice hearing a different, strong opinion voiced by someone who knew what they were talking about, as opposed to those in the group who get all their information from cranky midwives and Today Tonight and are therefore understandably shit-scared.

When we parted to go home (after promising to swap phone numbers next week) I couldn't stop smiling – we weren't alone! Meeting them gave me new resolve to stick to my guns and assert my rights when I needed it most, because if you're around such negative 'you can't do it' attitudes you begin to believe them. I plan on trusting my body to do what it was made to do - what women have done since time began. I know things can and do go wrong, thats why I'm under the care of an obstetrician and will be giving birth in a hospital setting - not quite ready to go full-hippy home birth just yet.

A pain in the ...

For the last couple of weeks my right hip has been really sore to the point where I limp when I walk. After a quick consult with a physiotherapist at the antenatal classes I decided to go and have it checked out properly since it didn't appear to be going away on its own accord. So today I toddled off to a physiotherapist that specialises in antenatal and postnatal issues, partly because the woman I spoke to at the antenatal class worked there and partly because these hips have a lot of work to do soon and I don't want anyone screwing them up any further!

My pain started in my sit bones... that's right people, its basically my bum. Typical. I would be the one to get bum pain. I'm reminded of Sharon Osborne who, after being diagnosed with colon cancer said “Why'd they have to find it in my bum, of all places? It's embarrassing. I mean, why couldn't I have a cute little heart shaped polyp on my vagina?” Not that I'm comparing hip pain to colon cancer, but you get my point – why there?!

The pain has been getting worse and has now moved around the front too, and instead of a dull ache its more of a sharp shooting pain that makes it look like I've just stepped on a piece of glass. On the upside, the limp disguises the waddle marvellously. It is also starting to aggravate my previously broken coccyx – broken, I might add, by Hubby's knee one night about two and a half years ago while he was having a particularly violent dream. To make it worse, he didn't even wake up when he did it!

The diagnosis?

Pelvic instability and more specifically a rotated Sacroiliac joint in turn causing Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (whomever named that really liked the letter Y, I think). Which basically means my hips are moving in directions they shouldn't be.

The cause?

Well I have always had really lax ligaments (meaning that if they gave them out, I'd get a gold star at every yoga class for most resembling a pretzel) and if you combine that with the Relaxin hormone getting me ready for birth you have a pretty good chance of sore hips.

The treatment?

About half an hour of excruciating “massage” of my hip followed by the application of strapping tape. Yes, dear readers, my ass is taped up. It looks highly amusing, like I've accidentally sat down on someone's discarded ankle strapping. I'm tempted to drop my dacks just to show people how silly it looks. “Excuse me? Hi, you don't know me, but check out my butt, isn't it hilarious?!”

I go back in a few days time to have the whole thing done again, but until then I have some exercises to do and the instruction to not put my legs at a right angle to my body. This is simple to fix, I just sit on cushion to elevate my hips above my knees – but cushion sitting does make look like I've got haemorrhoids. I guess its the price I'll have to pay.

The prognosis?

A few sessions and taping is apparently all I'll need to get my hip in working order... funnily enough the lax ligaments that have caused the pain in the first place mean it will be quicker and easier to fix! Hooray for me.

Did you or your partner have any pregnancy ailments? Did you have to have your bum strapped too?

Antenatal or Anti-natal?

On Wednesday, Hubby and I went to our first antenatal class at the hospital that Tricky will be born in (assuming that is that he doesn't shoot out in the back seat of the car on the way there). There were 14 couples in total and we all looked extremely nervous and the women all held their hands protectively over their bellies. We ranged from 27 to 33 weeks pregnant with one set of twins in the group! It was very interesting to see the difference in sizes of everyone – some of the people who I thought were so tiny were the furthest along.

All but one of the men seemed keen to be there, and it was their job to introduce the women and say how far along we were and who the obstetrician was. Every man who tried got it right or was only a week off, which impressed me no end. I asked Hubby how he remembered how many weeks I was and his response was “I just counted back from the due date”... so he only got half points for the weeks, but at least he remembered the all important LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT ENDS NOW date. Who could forget?

The class was run by a lovely midwife, Gay, who told us about the three P's: Pelvis (those boney bits), Passenger (Tricky) and Powers (contractions). It might just be me but I thought it strange that a gimmick be needed to remember only three things – and those things are unlikely to be forgotten in a hurry. “So I've got a kid in me and I'm having contractions... any minute now he'll pop out my belly button” No sorry, even stupid people realise the impossible bending of the laws of physics that is about to take place.

Gay had a baby doll with an umbilical cord (dressing gown rope) attached to a placenta (knitted woollen ball) that she was pushing through a toy pelvis. She was squishing the doll around and shoving him in all sorts of positions, explaining the difference between posterior and breech and so forth. It I wasn't pregnant I wouldn't have thought twice, but I found myself thinking “ooh be careful of the baby!”. At that point Gay put the doll in a plastic bag to simulate the amniotic sac and I had to restrain myself from getting up and showing her that the bag had written on “NOT A TOY. KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN”. She could have at least started the demonstration with a “Do not try this at home” warning. I will, of course, blame hormones on my need to protect an inanimate object that didn't look at all like a real baby. Hormones are my fall guy.

What was slightly disappointing about the class, seeing that it was run by a midwife, was that it was very much directed towards having a caesarian. Every few moments we were reminded of all the things that can go wrong – at no point did she mention that women all over the world since the beginning of time have managed to push out their babies with a minimal of fuss, when surrounded by people who are encouraging them. Its still medically safer to have a baby “naturally” yet everywhere I turn I'm encouraged to have Tricky cut out as if he is a tumour. I at least want to try. I trust that my body instinctively knows what to do – evolution may have screwed up with the 10cm diameter in which to get him out through, but hey, the kid has a mouldable head! Phew – go you fontanelles!

Next week we will learn all about pain relief... so I'm preparing myself now for all the lame jokes about sharing the gas with Hubby.

Did you have a planned c-section or an emergency one? Or were you encouraged to trust your body?

An A-Z of Pregnancy Part I

Ante-natal Classes – Hubby and I are signed up for ante-natal classes in March and I'm half dreading it. My only point of reference is the movies, so I expect to be taught how to breathe Lamaze style “hee heee hoooooooooo” and feel like a total idiot. Plus the inevitable birth videos which can also be called “horror porn”. So much to look forward to.

Breasts – I've always been rather generously endowed in the breast department, and since falling pregnant my cup definitely doth spilleth over, and I'm only just over half way – what will these suckers look like when I'm actually breastfeeding? Meanwhile Hubby is more than pleased with developments and I can't fit in to any of my button up shirts.

Cravings – Get pregnant and you'll crave icecream and pickles is what I was told. So far though I haven't really had what you could call cravings. There has been no insatiable urges that could only be quashed by sending Hubby on a midnight run. My tastes have definitely changed though, a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich really hits the spot, and where I previously didn't like McDonald's I could now eat a cheeseburger (or two, or three) a day!

Daddy – Hubby's role hasn't really changed yet, and according to the old saying “a women becomes a mother when she is pregnant, a man becomes a father when he holds his child” it won't for quite a while yet. But I do love it when he leans his ear to my round belly and listens to hear the movement, then talks to him... its normally something along the lines of “So hows things in amniotic world?” and its a rather one sided conversation.

Expanding – Is the medical world entirely sure that babies grow in bellys? Because my bum is getting enormous. Even when taking in to consideration the cheeseburgers it seems bigger than it should be. The average weight gain up to this point in a pregnancy is just over 6kg and I've so far put on 2kg... and its all in my bum.

Feet – Those suckers are getting harder and harder to reach as my increasing girth prevents me from bending down completely. I can still see them... for now.

Grandparents – Tricky is the first grandchild on both sides for our families and the reaction to his impending arrival has been very different. Hubby's parents were first to know and were enthusiastic but trying not to get too thrilled as it was still early days. Nowadays Mother-In-Law is getting very excited and was the first to purchase anything for Tricky, a beautiful blanket, while Father-In-Law is understandably blasé about something he can't see yet. My parents found out when I was twelve weeks because they were away overseas. My dad was almost bouncing off the walls at the announcement and my mother looked horrified – she was to be a Grandmother! Thats for old people!

Hormones – There are a lot of these suckers surging through my body at the moment, and they all seem to have really interesting names; you've got your standard progesterone and oestrogen but then there is Lutenising hormone, Oxytocin, beta Human Chorionic Gondatropin hormone. Some of these increase by up to 1000% while you're pregnant which makes for a great excuse for when ever you're in a bad mood/forget to do something/accidentally kill your husband!

Ignorant – I've never really been around infants before. I've held some of them, sure. But not for more than a few minutes after which I heaved a sigh of relief at being able to hand them back to their mum or dad. So I'm wondering if I'll be actually able to care for Tricky 24/7? I have no one to off load him to when I get tired/grumpy/bored. I'm not completely ignorant though, I'm pretty good with toddlers because I like playing and colouring in is one of my all time favourite past-times.