She said she liked it better than Pirates of Penzance

This is a C2 post. Opinions are my own.

#C2 for full details please see my disclosure policy

Coming home from martial arts the other night, MapGuy asked if I'd had a good training session.

"I liked it better than Pirates of Penzance" I said. 

He looked at me blankly.

Turns out his aptitude for pop culture references is not as advanced as mine. Shame. 

But the Pretty Woman fans amongst us will know it was a sly way of saying I trained so hard I almost peed my pants.

Last week my friend and I we were talking about me flipping MG to the ground in a take down defence, and kicking butt and I said I was going to try my hardest because "I'm not wearing a sports bra and a liner for nothing!", adding "TENA should sponsor me!". We laughed the way only girlfriends who have both had gigantic babies can.

The last time MapGuy ever hugs me from behind! From standing to flat on the floor in 3 seconds.

So when this info from TENA arrived in my inbox, I thought perhaps my house was bugged, then had a giggle. I didn't PMSL, but if i had of, it would have been OK. 

I have the habit of oversharing. But what happens when I do it, is that most of the time, whoever I'm talking to will chime in with a "me too" story. And you guessed it, needing to wear a liner for sports is almost always a "me too" moment. Despite us all doing pelvic floor exercises, sometimes it still happens. Just look at all those Cross Fit wee photos. 

Most of my mum friends are a tad nervous when it comes to physical activity like jumping or lifting weights. For those who have no idea, and are lucky enough to have no issue, I'm not saying we wet our pants the way a kid does. We're talking droplets.

But those droplets can freak you out and, well, they just feel awful.

So I never go to training without a liner. Screw the stigma. 

Incontinence (yep, I used the real word) is more common than you think, affecting 1 in 3 women and 1

in 10 men within Australia.

TENA has created infographics to help simplify it for us. Because everyone loves an infographic.

See the bit down the bottom? It's only tiny, but it says free samples are available. They'll send you out a pack with a couple different ones to try. Oh, and it's a plain envelope, by the way, so if you're not down with smashing the stigma just yet, that's cool, too! 

The waterbirth of Bobbin

I don’t know how to write this. The words in my sleep deprived brain do not do justice to the awesome, empowering experience that was bringing Bobbin earth side. I sit here, my babe in my arms, the glow of the computer screen on her cherub face and wonder if there are any words to describe the magic? Probably, but not in this mama's head, so a word vomit will have to do.

Let me take you back to Monday the 26th of August. I will remember it forever as a day of laughter and so much joy.

At 41+1 weeks pregnant I was wondering when the big event was going to happen. I was eager to meet my little girl but didn’t want to rush her – I wanted her to choose her own birthday. Everyone around me assumed I would be getting very frustrated but other than the excruciating hip pain that had me barely able to walk at the end (thanks in part to the whole getting run over thing), I was actually OK. Impatient, but still OK. If it had been the height of summer I have no doubt it would have been very different.

I figured I needed to relax so I booked a pregnancy massage for the next morning. I booked knowing that their cancelation policy required at least 12 hours notice and I’d lose a cool $100 if I didn’t show up.

At 2:30pm I had an appointment with one of my midwives at the Family Birth Centre attached to King Edward Memorial Hospital. She offered to do an internal to see if I was dilating already, and to do a stretch and sweep if I wanted. I was 1cm but still thick. I thought it was proof Bobbin wasn’t ready yet but the midwife thought different as I managed to have a contraction while she was examining me. I didn’t feel it. She said I’d be back in tonight to have a baby. I said I’d cross my fingers but wouldn’t hold my breath.

I went home and kept having a few minor tightenings. Nothing painful. I tried to time them but was having difficulty because they were so mild that sometimes I couldn’t quite tell if it was there or not. At 4:00pm the midwife called to see how I was going. I laughed at her certainty and brushed it off but at the same time hoped that she was right. All I knew for sure was that I trusted my body to do what it needed to do.

As soon as I hung up the phone I started to have a few crampy feelings. They got a little stronger and though still irregular, at almost 4:30pm I cancelled the massage appointment. I am, after all, a tight ass when it comes to money.

Knowing that Tricky had been born so quickly I was told to come in as soon as possible when things started happening, so despite not being sure if I was actually in labour or not, my fear of a freeway baby saw me call the Birth Centre at 5pm to let them know we would come back in. The contractions were still irregular (anywhere from 1minute apart to 10 minutes apart) and still not painful at all but I didn’t particularly feel like being that girl on the news with the kid born in the emergency lane in the pouring rain.

My parents picked up Tricky and he went off for a sleep over – because I still wasn’t convinced I was in labour we didn’t tell him. I felt for sure we’d go in and be there for hours and be sent home. I texted my student midwife who has followed my pregnancy and come to my appointments from 16 weeks, letting her know what was happening.

We arrived at the Birth Centre just after 6:00pm and went to room one. There were still a few after hours appointments happening so the midwife was coming between us and the other women. I heard her on the phone calling my team midwife, Caroline. “I’d say she’s definitely in labour”. She was certain and yet I still didn’t think I was as I wasn't in any pain, just slightly uncomfortable.

Map Guy put the TENS electrodes on my back and while bouncing on the birth ball we chatted and laughed. Each time I got a contraction I would beam and say “Another one! Oooh it was a bit stronger!”. They were starting to hurt a little but were only lasting about 30 seconds. I was so excited BUT STILL didn’t think I was anywhere near giving birth… until my waters broke just before 7:00pm! It was a small pop and only a small amount of fluid, but enough to see that it was nice and clear.

So this was it! I finally believed I was in labour!

I went back to my birth ball and when the next contraction hit I redefined labour glamour with a good litre or so of amniotic fluid coming out. All over the ball, all over the floor. Map Guy and I were in fits of laugher because it just wouldn’t stop! We couldn’t find where the towels were hidden so he popped his head out the door:

“Um, could we get a towel please? Or a mop?”

It took three giggling midwives and six towels to clean me up before I could get back to my bouncing. The contractions were getting more frequent but not regular and only mildly painful. Caroline asked if I’d mind if another student attended the birth and I thought why not. The more the merrier. You gotta learn somewhere, right? So I had Caroline, the on call midwife and two students coming in intermittently to check on Bobbin and I.

At 8:30pm I was offered an internal to see how far along I was. Because I was planning on using the water for pain relief and didn’t want to get in too early I agreed. I was 2-3cm. Even though I’d only changed slightly since my appointment that afternoon I didn’t get disheartened, I just focussed on the fact that I’d have a baby soon.

The contractions were ramping up and even though we had been snacking on a fruit and nut mix, we hadn't had dinner and were both getting hungry. This is where the experience between an OB at a private hospital and midwife at a Birth Centre really deviate because you are encouraged to eat and drink to keep your energy levels up at the Centre.

So we did what anyone would do in our position. Ordered a pizza.

Just after 9:30pm the Centre door bell rang and Map Guy headed to the foyer to greet the much amused pizza delivery dude. I could hear the midwives laughing again – it was such a great atmosphere having everyone so relaxed.

Pizza. Not the only thing delivered that night.

We downed a supreme pizza (no anchovies, no pineapple) between the two of us with me stopping chewing every few minutes to have a contraction that by now were getting strong enough that I had to stop and focus my energy inwards to get through them.

The midwives would come and go to check on Bobbin and I, and each time we’d chat and laugh. In between they would leave us alone to share this special time. There was no fear, no anxiety, just love, trust and support. Map Guy was massaging my shoulders and my legs and we were listening to everything from instrumental classics to Regina Spektor to Michael Buble.

By 10:45pm the contractions were nice and strong. I was having to rock and sway on the ball to get through them. I couldn’t talk and would make little grunty, humming noises until it passed. They only hurt in one spot though. With Tricky, my entire abdomen felt the pressure, this time though it was just a small band above my pubic bone. I started to feel like I was about to revisit the pizza so we pulled the bin close to me and called for a heat pack to help with the pain.

Mid contraction with the glam bin next to me (with pizza box) ready to spew in to

Caroline came in and took one look at me, looked at the bin, watched me have a contraction and said it was time for me to get in the bath. I wasn’t sure. Surely the pain only being low down in one spot meant that not too much was happening, right? But the idea of the water, well, I couldn’t resist.

The birth pool at the centre is amazing. They left the room dark and the only light source was the one light under the water. Almost as soon as I hit the water, I hit transition. The contractions got stronger and I was making more of the grunty noises again and I couldn’t open my eyes. I was rocking and swirling my hips in the water and directing the jet of hot water on to my belly. I dropped a few swear words, too. Then suddenly I realized that the contractions were rolling on top of each other and for the first time I recognized a sensation from Tricky’s birth… that continuous contraction I had just moments before he was born. This was it. It was so exciting.

Hitting transition in the giant birth pool

I rocked and swayed on my knees, listening to the words of support coming from Map Guy, Caroline, and the others. They were saying the most empowering, encouraging words. Telling me I was strong. I was capable. That I was ready to have my little girl.

The pressure was increasing but I tried hard not to push yet. I wanted my body to do most of the work by itself. Finally I felt that she was right there and that it was time for me to help her. I beared down and reaching my hand under the water, felt the top of her head. I pushed her in to my hand in an attempt to stop her coming so fast. Despite the fact that everyone could see, I announced it to them all that her head was out.

I looked down and watched her rotate slightly and saw her shoulders slither past. I reached down and put my hands under her arms, and with one last gentle push she was born and I lifted her up on to my chest. I couldn’t believe it. I looked up at Map Guy who was grinning from ear to ear. “I did it. I did it. I caught her.” I had delivered my own baby. It was exhilarating.

Ecstatic and a bit exhausted

Caroline stepped forward to see Bobbin and help hold her. “And that, girls, is how it’s done” she said. From waters breaking to birth had been four and a half hours.

We stayed in the pool, skin to skin and still connected by her cord, for an hour or so and in that time she had her first feed. When it was time to get out her cord was clamped and Map Guy did the honours of cutting it, just like he did with Tricky. He lifted Bobbin from me and snuggled her for the first time, his face an image of pure joy.

The hours on the ball had completely knackered my injured hips and I couldn’t move very well. Getting out of the bath was a form of torture and the midwives had to physically lift my legs for me. I can honestly say that at that point my hips hurt more than birth. By far.

After one and a half hours there was still no sign of the placenta and even though I felt amazing emotionally, my body was exhausted and my hips so sore that I just wanted to get in bed and go to sleep, so I took up the offer of the oxytocin injection. The bugger still didn’t want to come out but eventually did, though a small portion was retained. We kept it and had it encapsulated so I could eat it over the coming months.

We spent the next hour snuggling, taking photos and breastfeeding. Map Guy and I climbed in to the big queen sized bed and settled down to sleep with Bobbin in a crib beside us.

The next day Tricky came to the Centre and we introduced him to his little sister. He was shy at first, but warmed up remarkably when we mentioned that Bobbin had a present for him – a gorgeous crocheted race car driver specially commissioned from Daisy, Roo and Two. Even now two weeks on he is hesitant to hold her, afraid he'll drop her, but doesn't stop giving her kisses and cuddles. He loves to play with her hands and have her grasp his finger - we told him in the lead up to the birth that because they can't speak, that is how babies show someone they love them.

We were all packed up and ready to go by early the next morning but had to wait around for the paediatrician sign off, so spent the time lazing around, eating a giant lunch and staring at our little girl. Early afternoon we were home snuggled up together enjoying our first day of being a family of four.

It’s been an amazing and very tiring two weeks. I’m so grateful for the outstanding care I received from my midwives at the Family Birth Centre. We came so close to not being able to birth there (due to a low lying placenta) so to get pretty much the exact birth I had dreamed of makes me feel truly blessed.

Thank you to everyone who sent us congratulatory tweets and Facebook messages. I will print them all out and put them in her birth book to show her one day just how well she was welcomed in to the world.

It already feels like she has been here forever; I’ve almost forgotten what it was like without her here, so fully does she fit in around these parts. But it has only been two weeks. And now, I have to get back to staring at this baby. 

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"?

Preparing for birth

Recently on The Daily Edition the delightful trio of Woogs, Beth and Kerrie were talking about how some mamas to be are heading out for spray tans so that they look good in those first post-birth pics. Woogs has written before about what real post-birth photos look like and yours truly was in the post and a few of the pics from it, including the one of moi and 5 minute old Tricks were displayed on national television during the segment.

Yup, my non-photoshopped pic featuring lashings of side boob is now famous:

But the whole thing got me thinking about what I'm doing, and more to the point what I'm not doing, to prepare for Bobbin's arrival.

My pre-birth preparations have consisted of the following:

• Buying black "lounge pants" that I can wear both as PJs and as pants so that when I have visitors come over so I don't actually have to get dressed. They're only a half a step up from trackie dacks but it is a very important half step
• Finding the disposable underwear Georgia bought me so I don't have to wash knickers (you know what kind of friend buys you disposable undies? The BEST kind!)
• Choosing between large and jumbo knickers for when the disposables run out
• Figuring out how many mini mars bars I can fit in my birth bag
• Getting my hair dyed red - yep, totally vain. Though in my defense I have not had it done in nearly four months and probably won't get a chance to do it for another four months
• Buying an adorable crocheted toy for Tricky "from Bobbin" from Daisy Roo and Two
• And the semi-important things like weekly prenatal yoga, clinical pregnancy pilates, raspberry leaf tea, organizing to eat my own placenta, meditation and visualization stuff etc. You know, the slightly-crunchy stuff that I'm all in to

What I haven't done:

• Got a spray tan - if I look pale and exhausted after giving birth it is highly likely due to the fact that I JUST GAVE BIRTH
• Got a bikini wax - I do my own waxing and I can't see down there anymore to do it so I'm embracing the natural look. I refuse to "tidy up" for a midwife who has seen it all before a few thousand times
• Had a facial - this one kinda doesn't count because I'm desperate for a microdermabrasion facial because I have ALL TEH PIMPLES and my T zone is congestion city
• Removed the clothes airer full of socks and undies from Bobbin's room (note to self: get on to this, pronto)
• Finished packing my bag - I'll only be away from home overnight so I've just thrown the afore mentioned lounge pants and disposable undies in a bag... I really should get around to adding some nappies and the camera or those post-birth photos won't even exist! But I've got no idea what else to take!

I'm sure I will look appropriately knackered and overjoyed in those first photos, probably with hair hastily tied back in a bun and a sweaty brow like I did in the last lot. And that's OK.

Plus what are Instagram filters for?

Help me! What should I put in my bag for one night? Anything you wished you'd taken with you and forgot or vice versa?

So this whole birth thing is starting to freak me out

As I move closer and closer to the business end of pregnancy (related: um, how did we get this far this fast?!) I'm becoming a tad anxious about the birthing bit.

I'm not afraid of the actual physical part of birth - billions of women have done this before me (including me once before) and I take comfort from that. I'm not scared of the pain - I've felt it before and whilst I'm not eager to experience those sensations I know they are there for a reason and can be overcome. Plus I get a cute squishy baby at the end.

What I'm actually worried about is giving birth to said squishy cute thing in the car on the side of the freeway. 

When Tricky was born I had a syntocinon drip for a little while (despite letting the medical team know that I didn't want one - but that is a whole other story). I was only on it about ten minutes before Tricky became distressed. It was withdrawn for a few hours and then put back on later at a reduced rate then removed yet again about twenty minutes later because it huuurt.

After it was removed there was some faffing around then I was checked and found to be at 4cm. Then we changed up a gear. To light speed. In the next ten minutes I progressed to 10cm and he was crowning. In case you're wondering, yes that hurts like a mofo. Just under 20 minutes later he was born.

I live half an hour away from the Birth Centre and "everyone" tells me that this labour will be faster. I even have a giant red sticker on my file for "precipitous labour" (aka shoots 'em out quick). 10 minutes of super dilating and 20 minutes of figuring out what was happening and doctors being paged and then pushing a couple times adds up to thirty minutes. Fark.

"Everyone" also says stay home until you're in established labour but I went from bugger all to established to oh look a baby so quickly that staying home until that happens isn't really an option. Perhaps I should have a stack of towels on standby for an unplanned homebirth? Even if I planned a homebirth, if it goes that quick again, unless my midwife lived next door it would be unassisted.

The other thing that scares me, just as much, ironically, is that this time around might be much, much longer and the whole time I'll be thinking "this should be over by now, get me a fucking epidural!!". I'll go to the Birth Centre at the first twinges only to be there for two days with bugger all happening and no one happy for me to leave (including me) because of how quick things progressed last time.

And there is absolutely bugger all I can do about it. I just have to trust my body and keep a towel handy. And boiled water. And nail scissors. Or whatever it is. For a control freak with a body that often falls apart, it is proving to be a bit hard. The meditation CDs are out, the yoga is being done and the calming vibes are being summoned. Um, what else?

Were your births fast or slow?

Kerr-boom! {A Rant in B Flat}

I'm jumping on the Miranda Kerr bandwagon, and while I'm at it I'll get on my high horse. Cos you know, horses and wagons go together.

So we all know Miranda had her genetically blessed bub the other day. Most of you would have seen the awesome breastfeeding photo where she looked Glowing (bitch stole my Glow!). And some of you would have heard that she updated her blog to say that she had her whopping 9lb 12oz baby boy without any pain relief.

One of the forums I belong to, on finding out how much little Flynn weighed, started a thread comparing baby weights. Nothing bad about that, right? Well that's what I thought until I read it and saw some really strange comments attacking Miranda and other women who had also commented, for saying that they had given birth vaginally (yeah I said vagina, get over it). Their point was that it doesn't matter how a baby is born, as long as it's healthy, and that by being proud of an unmedicated birth they were somehow implying that everyone else was lesser than them.

I have a problem with this - are those that do birth vaginally (with or without medication) now supposed to not share that? Can we not be proud of ourselves? In a world with an alarmingly high caesarian rate and epidural rate, can I not be happy that I managed to birth Tricky "the old fashioned way"?

Does my damaged pelvic floor make me think I'm better than anyone else? Hell no.

It was MY goal and MY achievement and I know MY ideals are different to others'. Just because it's different doesn't make it better (or worse).

I'm not against caesarians. I know they save lives. I'm not even against epidurals - I was offered one and finally said yes only to find out that Tricky was crowning. What I am against is the cascade of interventions and 'scalpel happy' hospitals and obstetricians (and even some midwives in my situation) who are ready to cut open a woman at the drop of a hat.

And because I'm a knowledge junkie I'm against uninformed decisions of any kind.

So I'm going to say it now. Giving birth to Tricky vaginally with no pain medication was the proudest moment of my life. I'm not going to hide that away just because someone else chose to or had to do something different.

It's the same with breastfeeding. Can I not be proud that I'm breastfeeding because someone else can't or chooses not to? Can I not be proud that my saggy pendulous breasts are actually good for something?

Why does this only seem to surround birth and parenting choices? There's enough bloody mother guilt as there is without us creating more.

Can we not, as women, just support each other in the choices we make and stop with the politically correct bullshit for a minute?

Vaginal birth, caesarian birth, breastfed or bottlefed - if it works for you then own it and be proud of it.

And then there were three - Part two

Previously, on “Tricky gets born” - Booked in for an induction but didn't need it (hooray!), got put on a Syntocinon drip to speed up labour and Tricky had a bad reaction to it (boo!), got prepped for a caesarean section (boo, hiss!). If you want to read all about it, have a look at part one. If you're up to speed then keep reading...

In the next few hours my contractions still weren't doing much. This is what the obstetric community call 'stalled labour' but an old-school midwife will tell you that labour never stalls, it just slows down when the labouring woman is faced with danger. It is the classic case of fight or flight. Our bodies are designed to temporarily halt labour so that we can run away from a sabre tooth tiger if we need to... unfortunately the shock of being prepped for surgery does the same thing.

At 1.40pm I was 3cm dilated and the contractions were about 4 minutes apart. Not good enough. More Syntocinon was ordered, but this time at a lower strength. Were these people trying to make Tricky distressed again? He had such a bad reaction last time but yet you're going to try it again? It made no sense to me. So as the Syntocinon went up, my spirits went down.

It acted fast. My contractions started coming every two minutes and were lasting for what seemed like half an hour but was more likely two minutes from first twinge to peak to final release. I was wearing a TENS machine for natural pain relief and I was getting close to the top setting – it was no match for the super contractions. The drip was stopped after half an hour because it was obvious it was becoming too much for me. It was now 2.25pm and I was at 4cm. All of that for one lousy centimetre!

Even though the Syntocinon drip had stopped the contractions were becoming more and more intense. I was told that it would be another four to six hours of labour and the midwives suggested I have an epidural since it didn't look like I would progress much more on my own and with the pain relief they'd be able to crank up the Syntocinon and get the show on the road. These afternoon midwives, Penny (not to be confused with Aunty Penny) and Mary, were amazingly supportive and when they said they were proud of me for going so far without pain relief I believed them (Miss Melodrama's shift had finished and I was glad to see the back of her). I don't know why, but those few words made me feel a little bit better. I had done more than had been expected of me hours earlier when I was being prepped for a c-section, so even if I wasn't going to get my natural birth, at least I'd felt some of it.

In the next ten minutes my contractions went insane! They were less than thirty seconds apart and lasting for two minutes. I was getting no break between them and I was pounding the boost button on my hired TENS machine so furiously that I might not get my deposit back. Penny had gone to get the anaesthetist and Mary stayed with me and Hubby, helping me focus and breathe. It was 2.35pm... I told her I felt like pushing... she checked me... I had gone from 4cm to 10cm in ten minutes. So THAT'S why it had started hurting so much! I was being offered the epidural for what they thought was an unreasonable level of pain only to realize I was in transition (the stage between 8cm and 10cm, considered the most painful stage of labour)! Women in transition have been known to say they have changed their mind, they're not having this baby, and they would like to leave now, thank you very much. I can see why.

She said I could push whenever I felt like it. But there was a slight problem... I had not heard her say that I was at 10cm. I was thinking “Are you crazy, woman?! I'm at 4cm and you're saying I can push?! You're all insane!”. So I used all my strength to resist the urge to push, thinking I was about to injure myself! Only ten minutes ago she had said we were looking at about five more hours and gone to call the anaesthetist. Penny and Mary managed to get my attention somehow and told me that this was it, they could see Tricky – he was coming now! We were go for launch!

The room got very busy all of a sudden! The OB came rushing in announcing with a laugh that the second most important person in the room was now here. Penny and Mary were running around getting everything ready and a student midwife stood watching the scene unfold in front of her, trying not to get in the way. Hubby, who had been holding my hand, rubbing my back, pressing the acupressure pain relief points this whole time, whispered words of encouragement and love to me, saying our baby was about to be born... and I STILL didn't quite believe it.

His cord had stayed by his head and therefore the pressure on it while he was coming out meant his heart rate started dropping again so an episiotomy had to be done because there was no time to let me stretch that last little bit naturally . About half a dozen pushes later... Tricky came in to the world at 2.54pm weighing 3825grams (8lb 7oz), measuring 54cm long (21.3 inches) with a head circumference of 36cm (14.2 inches) and was placed on my chest.

His crushed cord and low heart rate meant we couldn't have the delayed clamping we had wanted, so the scissors were shoved in to Hubby's hands to do the cutting. He hadn't yet taken a breath and they wanted to take him to the “Cosy Crib” (what a lovely name for a piece of machinery that looks so ominous with heat lamps, wires and oxygen tanks!) to get him going, but in true Tricky style, the second the cord was cut he sucked in a huge breath and let out a fantastic cry! It was the most wonderful noise I have ever heard! Although ask me in a few weeks if I still think his cry is wonderful and I may have changed my mind.

Mary picked him up saying “I'll just give him to Aunty Penny for a check” and even in the haze of endorphins and adrenaline I remember thinking, no, he already has an Aunty Penny and she won't be happy if you take her title from her! A quick check over and he was handed straight back to me. Hubby and I stared at him in amazement, saying hello to him over and over again, looking at every inch of his body, in total awe that he was here. Mary and Penny fussed over all of us and then said the words that will stay with me forever, “We love to be proven wrong”. It dawned on me, I had done it. I had just given birth with only the supportive hands of my husband, a TENS machine and a whole lot of determination (some would call it being stubborn). I will admit that part of me wanted to say "I told ya so!" but I was too fascinated by this new creature in my arms to care about anything else.

Immediately I felt a fierce protective love for him. I had only just met this child and already I knew I would do anything and everything in my power to protect him. It had been such an adventure and now he was in our arms, perfect in every way. There are no words to describe the joy.

From water's breaking to birth had been ten hours... so I guess they got their average of 1cm an hour after all!

 Introducing Tricky

Note: In the coming weeks I'll endeavour to keep blogging my experiences with this new little guy as often as I can. From the nights with no sleep, the tears of the baby blues to the first meetings with the dog. I hope you'll come on this journey with me.

And then there were three - Part one

3rd June 2010

After lamenting for hours on the pros and cons, Hubby and I decided to opt for an induction and my obstetrician booked us in. The prostaglandin gel is normally applied at 7pm the night before to allow it time to work, but I was so close to popping anyway that I was told to come in the next day to get it applied at 7.30am, and with all things running smoothly I should be in established labour by midday and have a baby that evening! I was happy that I was only going to need the gel, I wanted to avoid a Syntocinon drip (an artificial version of Oxytocin, the hormone that gets labour going) at all costs because it produces unnaturally long and strong contractions – definitely something to avoid if you're hoping on going down the natural pain relief road! Hubby and I joked to the OB that now it was all booked in I'd probably go in to labour by myself.

That night we were both giddy – we'd have a baby tomorrow! It was a strange feeling having it scheduled in, like a haircut, but the relief of knowing it was all happening was welcome. After unpacking and re-packing my hospital bag we eventually went to bed around around midnight although sleep did not come easily. What would he look like? What would labour feel like? Can I do this?

4th June 2010

I woke up and experienced that brief moment of surprise when you realise you'd managed to sleep with all the excitement. I laid there in the dark, smiling to myself, thinking today I would finally get to meet my precious little man. Then without warning, I felt a strange sensation... my waters broke! It was exactly 5.10am and Tricky decided that yes, today was going to be a good day to be born, no induction necessary. I patted my belly, “Good boy, Tricky.”

I got up and had a light breakfast, trying to be really quiet so Hubby could get a bit more sleep. At around 6am Hubby woke up (I'd stopped being quiet, we were due at the hospital soon anyway so it was time to get up!) and I smiled at him. “Guess what?” I asked. “We're going to have a baby today” he replied. “Yep, because my waters broke about an hour ago!” and we both lost it laughing. I guess having the weight of 'when will it happen' lifted let things happen naturally. I could not have been more pleased.

We got to the hospital at 7am, went to the delivery suite and got hooked up to the CTG machine for the standard initial reading of Tricky's heartbeat... it didn't look so good, fluctuating wildly while my contractions were still really mild and irregular. The OB was called for the first of many times that day. By the time he got there (about twenty minutes later) Tricky's heartbeat had started to settle down in to a more normal rhythm but I was told I would now have to remain strapped to the CTG the entire labour. Bugger – there goes my plan to use yoga positions to get me through the pain of contractions!

By now it was almost 10am and nothing was happening, which in a hospital environment they don't like at all. There are very strict time limits on birthing a baby – can't have our doctors being late for their round of golf. I was only 2cm and had now been labelled as “not progressing” so I was put on a Syntocinon drip (yep, the drug I was trying to avoid). I was sitting back chatting to the morning shift midwife (I forget her name, so I'll call her Miss Melodrama) when she stopped talking, started lowering the bed and telling me to quickly lay down on my side. I didn't know what was happening, and then the CTG alarm went off – Tricky's heartbeat had dropped well below the acceptable level and it wasn't coming back up. The Syntocinon (which was immediately cut off, less than ten minutes after being started) was causing really long contractions that were crushing Tricky's umbilical cord between my pelvic bones and his head. His little lifeline was taking the full force of it all, leaving no room for the blood to flow.

The OB was called and Miss Melodrama informed me that I would need a caesarean section. Hot, angry tears pricked at my eyes. I was so disappointed. I didn't want that bloody drug in the first place and look what it had done! I hadn't even been given a chance to labour and I was being told that it was all over due to 'foetal distress'. In my mind I was shouting "He wasn't distressed until you intervened! Why couldn't you just let nature run it's course? Why must I dilate at 1cm per hour?"

In the next few minutes as the drug left my system, Tricky's heartbeat came back up and my contractions settled to normal strength. The OB said he was happy for me to not go straight to surgery, that I could wait a while and see what happened but it was more than likely I would be operated on that afternoon. I was measured for compression stockings, my blood was taken to be cross-matched and I was shaved in preparation for what they all saw as inevitable surgery. I had to keep telling myself that as long as Tricky got here healthy in the end, that it didn't matter how he came out.

Read And then there were three - Part Two here

Start the countdown

This week I've reached an important milestone in the world of pregnancy... Tricky is now considered full term! For the uninitiated full term is a massive FIVE WEEK window when you are meant to go in to labour - if your labour begins before 37 weeks its considered pre-term and the "powers that be" will do everything to try and stop it (unless its a multiple birth, in which case your due date is approximately 37 weeks because of the lack of room!). After 42 weeks you're considered post-term or as I like to consider it "over cooked" - most obstetricians won't let you go more than ten days past your due date before inducing though.

The magic number of 37 weeks is chosen because the baby's lungs are now fully developed and ready to breathe in the lovely dry, recycled air conditioning air of the birthing suite. Ahhh.

Being full term has brought with it a small amount of anxiety. When getting a few Braxton Hicks contractions I find myself thinking "Should I be timing these? Just in case they're the real thing?" Every twinge and ache is now examined under a microscope because I'm concerned that I'll continue to just pass off labour pains as Braxton Hicks and then all of a sudden have to rush to the hospital and barely get there in time - I've known people born in ambulances and one born in a hospital carpark (with the help of some kindly strangers who had just been discharged after getting stitched up after a drunken brawl)! I've never done this before so I really have no idea.

I'm not really worried about my waters breaking in public - it would be a cool story for any witnesses to tell their family over dinner that night - and I'm aware that real life is not like the movies, and the majority of women will be in labour (and know it) a few hours before their waters do break and can therefore be semi-prepared. What I am concerned about is if they break in the car! I've heard horror stories of seats rotting and needing to be replaced (even if a towel had been put down just in case) and Hubby would definitely not be happy if his precious car was soiled in any way! He couldn't replace just one seat - he'd have to get the whole set replaced so they all looked the same.

Over the last few days I've heard three girlfriends' stories of waters breaking in the morning laying in bed after going through the initial labour asleep the night before. The labouring while asleep bit really appeals to me - but what about my mattress? Do I really have to put down a plastic sheet? No one tells you these things! Plus there is no way of knowing if its going to be a gush or just a trickle... 

Did your waters break spontaneously? Where were you?

Culture shock

I love observing and learning about other cultures. I might be too chicken to actually totally submerge myself in them, but I'll watch and respect as long as I don't have to eat anything I would normally assault with a full can of bug spray (hence my refusal to eat crickets on a kebab in Thailand).

One of the cultures that both delights and baffles me is that of Japan. I'm fascinated by their contradictions; the quietness and respect for others right along side the loudness and vivacity of the Harajuku and Gyaru fashion trends. But something I saw this week truly baffled me so much that I just had to share it.

On the 25th of April this year a competition with a 400 year history was held at a temple in Tokyo. The contest is considered an opportunity to pray for babies' health – so how would you expect they did this? But bowing their heads silently? No. Chanting rhythmically as loud as they could? Also no. This is a competition after all, there needs to be something measurable... how about how fast can a Sumo wrestler make a baby cry? You think I'm joking, but I'm not.

The Konaki Sumo (crying Sumo) requires two Sumo wrestlers to each hold a baby and face each other and wait to see whose infant cries first (if they cry at the same time, the louder baby wins). They're helped along by a local priest who waves, shouts and holds up scary looking masks, but the children are never physically harmed.

For more photos see here

To me, in my closeted Western life, this is just bizarre! But according to the Japanese a crying baby grows faster and therefore healthier, plus the louder the infant cries the more the gods have blessed it. When you take it from their point of view I suppose it makes sense. It just shows you how differently we are all raised from one culture to another... which brings me to my next “discovery” of sorts – a documentary.

Before I get you too excited, I cannot find ANY details on the Australian release dates for this movie, but it launches in America (if you happen to be there) on May 7th. Known as Babies – The Movie, this documentary follows four babies from around the world; Ponijao from Namibia, Mari from Japan, Bayar from Mongolia and Hattie from America “from first breath to first steps”. Watch the trailer (I've watched it at least a dozen times now) and you won't be disappointed! I'm not sure what I'd do if a goat started drinking Tricky's bath water... 

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.

I need Mary Poppins' carpet bag

I've hit week 34 of the pregnancy now and I'm starting to get really excited to meet Tricky. What will he look like? Will he be cute? Of course he'll be cute to me, but I will be ever so slightly biased since he is my spawn.

According to all the books (yes I've read ALL of them – the staff at my local library know me by name now) now is the time to get your hospital bag ready to go! Many people have been caught out with bub arriving earlier than expected so the general consensus is to be mostly packed around now. So the all-knowing books and websites have lists of what to take with you – and apparently they all think I'm going to be thousands of kilometres away from home for a few months because the amount of CRAP they want me to pack is ridiculous!

Apart from some real gems like differentiating between 'day clothes' and a special 'going home outfit' for yourself (who says I will get out my PJ's anyway?) they also recommend water spritzers to keep you cool, a hair-dryer (uh, slightly busy with an infant), thank you cards (again, slightly busy), and the entire back catalogue of Celine Dion (you want me to be suicidal?).

I've always been a fantastic packer for holidays; one overnight bag can last me a week simply because I don't like waiting at luggage carousels for a bag that may very well be on its way to Greenland. So I thought packing for these few days would be easy too. Wrong.

For starters my dressing gown (which I'll be wearing a lot since that bit about not getting out of my PJ's is pretty close to the truth) whilst so soft, fluffy and lovely is HUGE and takes up half the space already! Is it bad form to turn up at the delivery suite wearing it just because I can't fit it in the bag? I don't want to be one of those women who take eight pieces of matching luggage and then only open two things, but I am NOT going without my dressing gown. The standard underwear and toiletries don't take up too much room so the next big hurdle is the breast and maternity pads – those things are massive and take up much more space than I had imagined - valuable dressing gown space I might add. I know I can unpack the bag as soon as we get there but I might be slightly busy swearing my head off and announcing loudly that this is all Hubby's fault.

Luckily the hospital I'm going to provides everything for Tricky so all I need to take for him is a 'going home outfit' so that I don't steal their precious singlets. For him I've chosen a cute little polka dot number (given to me in February as a very early baby shower present from a friend going overseas) for two reasons; firstly that it is super cute and says “I'm new here” and secondly because it is size 0000 and Tricky is expected to be a bit of heifer and might only fit in to it for a few days.

So the bag is mostly packed except for the few things we'll have to grab on the way out the door (like the camera - for photos AFTER the main event, not during) and sits pride of place in the bedroom near the door. I'm sure in the coming weeks it will be packed and unpacked numerous times and the nesting urge increases (I've already cleaned the bath twice this week), and that just makes me think I'll leave something out in one of the re-packs and will have to check it all again when in labour! With severe mumnesia I'm sure to forget something too!

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.

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?