Archives for posts with tag: birth

All I wanted was a little stroll, just an afternoon wander down to the front doors of the ward, and out into the fresh air for a while. Kylie and I had been cooped up for days. Her husband Brad had brought us a special treat from McDonald’s for lunch that day and we were feeling heavy. So off for a wee toddle we went.

It was an easy walk really, out of the ward, down two floors in the lift and straight out the front doors to bask in the sunshine. We got as far as the front doors, when all of a sudden I felt an enormous pressure “down there”. There was no warning, no pain or discomfort beforehand, just a huge pressure.

“Oh my god Kylie, I think I’m having the baby,” I spluttered. My legs automatically crossed. I was 29 weeks pregnant, and scared witless of what might happen next. Kylie looked at me with alarm and shock on her face. We had been schooled on what to do if this sort of thing happened, and having both been there for so long, we were pretty much allowed to roam around as we pleased when we were in no danger. I hadn’t had any contractions or episodes of bleeding for weeks, and Kylie wasn’t supposed to be in danger of going into labor at all, she was 36 weeks and in for pain management for her spinal fusion. So we thought we were “safe” to go for a short walk.

Kylie headed for the wheelchair that was kept just inside the doors of Maternity. As she turned toward me with it, I took a small step to uncross my legs and felt a squish and a really strange feeling. She sat me down gently and pressed the emergency buzzer, letting the nurses take over after we had explained what had happened.

I had actually lost a huge clot, the size of a grapefruit, and a smaller one the size of a golf ball. These were the blood clots that formed the night I nearly lost 6. This was bad news. At 29 weeks, my baby had a reasonable chance at survival if born, providing he had no health issues other than prematurity. I had been given Prednisalone shots from 25 weeks to hasten the production of surfactant, just in case he was born early. I had also been eating very well and all the time, trying to ensure he was a good weight.

It was back to bed for me, no more walking privileges and I had to use bed pans again! Anything to help the baby stay inside!!

Dr M was called and it was decided after examination, that as my waters hadn’t yet broken, we were in a pretty good position to wait and see what happened next. The longer 6 stayed in utero the better his chances were. As long as my contractions didn’t return, we would be able to stay in bed and wait it out.

I awoke the next morning, and felt very lucky to still be pregnant. A fetal monitor pronounced 6’s heart beat as regular and strong, and there didn’t seem to be any reason for concern or alarm. At around 1pm that day I sat myself up in bed and felt my waters gush. Uh-oh back to panic stations! Once again I was surrounded by medical professionals. I had a feeling that things were starting to happen and there was limited time before 6 would be born. However Dr M said that until I started to contract, the best thing to do was stay in bed and be as still as I could. He said I could go on once the water broke as long as there was still some water surrounding the baby.

Another day passed without too much happening. I had seen Dr M early each morning, and had drummed into him how much I wanted my baby to survive, that I really couldn’t handle another stillbirth. I remember one morning I said to him that if I thought things were getting serious, I would take my knife and fork to myself and perform my own C-section!! I really didn’t want to risk waiting too long. I was agitated, and worried that all the natural signs of imminent birth were being ignored by the staff. He reassured me that everything would be fine and they wouldn’t ever take any undue risks with his delivery. They were doing their absolute best to ensure his safe entry into the world. Still I worried.

This was turned into a hilarious joke on me when at the following meal delivery I was given my meal, but no knife and fork. I buzzed for a nurse who arrived and handed me a plastic set and a silly grin. “Try giving yourself a Cesar with those” she laughed.

“Oh ha ha…. just give me my cutlery you smart ass!” The nurses on the ward were great, (mostly), there was the one who used to sneak in while I was asleep, steal my magazines and return them with the puzzles completed! I finally caught her out the week 6 was born, by faking sleep and grabbing her hand as she reached for my “stash”. She squealed, waking Kylie, who sat up screaming as well! There were some damn funny nights in that hospital!

I’d had many ultrasounds over the weeks at Canberra Hospital. Nearly every time 6 would be sucking not on his fingers, but on his toes instead! Both feet tucked up in front of him, and one in his mouth. Strange little boy? I used to think it was cute. It ended up nearly costing him his life, and definitely cost me a normal delivery….

By late Friday I was becoming increasingly stressed, and wanted my baby out. I was still losing water, and wondered how my baby was “safe”. I just didn’t understand and kept pushing the staff for answers. They agreed that it was probably a good idea to induce labor.

I was now just over 30 weeks. I was given the choice of an elective C-section or a natural delivery. I was surprised they gave me a choice, and of course chose to deliver naturally as I was told this was better for both of us. As I hadn’t had any contractions for weeks, (again the irony, after being in and out of labor for ages!!) I was given an I.V hormone to start my contractions. I started first stage labor almost immediately, however my contractions stayed mild for hours, and there was no progress after the first 8 hours. Fetal monitors showed no sign of stress to the baby at this time, but I was tired and beginning to wish I’d chosen the C-section. I began to worry as nothing seemed to be happening and I knew things could change drastically.

Early in the evening I was encouraged to walk around the delivery ward as this might help my contractions to work harder. Again no success.

At around midnight the nurses noticed 6’s heartbeat becoming a little irregular. I was told Dr M would be called and a Cesar would probably be the next step. The message came back that no, the Doctor wasn’t coming in, I could wait until morning. My heart sank. I felt betrayed. I was just about to open my mouth and start complaining very loudly, when the mid-wife rushed into the room. “Start prepping for surgery, Dr M just called back, he’ll be here in 15 minutes!”

Thank God! I knew things were getting serious when all of a sudden, there was a rush, the baby’s heartbeat was getting very slow, there was tension and very fast preparation for my emergency C-section! From a casual, “she’ll be okay until the morning”, to emergency in under 5 minutes! Like I said, things change fast in Maternity.

I had He who used to be, a friend and Magoo with me at this stage, I had to say goodbye to mum and my friend, and He who used to be left to change into scrubs and meet me in the theatre.

They pulled 6 out in confusion, as his head was down low in the birth canal, and so was his leg, and one of his arms! This child of mine had caused all the trouble with the “natural” birth, because he was trying to be born whilst holding a foot into his mouth with one hand!! I know right? Anyway, any one who knows about birth will tell you that the cervix prefers a perfectly round head to present for birth, or at least a round bum, not a hand and foot over the top of the head presentation like 6 tried! His tricky move had caused his birth to be long and drawn out, resulting in no cervical dilation, and his own rapid deterioration. Silly boy, trying to suck his toes during his birth!

Finally I got to meet my baby son. He was tiny. A mere 3 pounds or 1.3 kilograms. 35cms long from head to toe, and absolutely beautiful! He was delivered, and immediately checked over by the Doctor, and then wrapped and held up to my face for a few moments. I gave his daddy the nod that meant he should go with baby, while I got put to sleep. I was shaking so bad at this stage it was either get put to sleep for the stitch up or pass out!

that front foot sneaking up for a toe suck?

that front foot sneaking up for a toe suck?

2 days old

The photo above was taken when 6 was just a couple of hours old, before they inserted the feeding tubes or dressed him. You can see by the lack of tubes and life support, that he was born very healthy and needed very little help medically. He was a good weight for a  9 week early baby, and only required oxygen for an hour. Just to make sure really. He spent one night in Bay 1 of  N.I.C.U.

Meanwhile, back in the ward, I was waking up from anesthetic and feeling very grumpy and sick indeed. “Where’s my baby?” I demanded over and over. All I wanted was to see my baby, and yet I was all hooked up to an I.V. drip with a Morphine “button” for pain relief, and even a catheter! I quickly asked them to remove the catheter as I couldn’t stand the sensation. After much argument they removed the catheter, but they would not budge on removing the drip or pain relief. I felt horrible from the morphine, and wasn’t using it as it made me feel really sick. What I did next will probably shock most of you.

I waited until the nurses all left the room, after I assured them I would rest some more. Then I removed the cannula and I.V. drip. I’d seen them do it many times, so it was easy really. Then I carefully got out of bed and got myself somehow into the shower. All this is still very fuzzy in my memory, as I was very much under the influence of the anesthetic and morphine at the time. I stayed in the shower for ages. Sitting on the plastic chair with the water as hot as I could stand it pointed straight at my fresh stitches. This honestly felt great to me, and in a while, I don’t know how long it took, but I felt ready to get out of the shower and get dressed. I did this all very slowly, but I think you would all agree, that a mothers determination is a force to be reckoned with?

I was caught as I left the ward, bent over like an old woman, moving along the handrail that led to the lift up to the N.I.C.U. I got in a little trouble for what I did, but really what were they going to do, throw me in jail?

I got to see my baby son though, they put me in a wheelchair and took me straight up to him. The nurses up in the NIC were a little shocked to see me so soon after my surgery, but I explained I just couldn’t wait any longer. I was worried.

This was the start of our journey. My baby was born. He was alive. He was doing very well by the looks of things. But, we had a long way to go, and at just 3 pounds, we were in for a lengthy stay in hospital before it would be possible to bring our baby home.

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My baby, my wonder child. The baby who made me whole again. The baby I worked so hard to have. Here is your story at last, my wonderful youngest son.

When I lost James, I felt as if the universe had divided down the centre, leaving me and my grief on one side, and the rest of the “normal” world on the other. I felt like part of myself was missing, and I believe that part still is, in a small way, but during the months following a stillbirth, that missing part sums up just about everything you are and everything you do. It’s a very sad situation, as you are almost completely alone in your grief. Nobody knows what to say and there is no way of comforting you. Only one thing remained on my mind during this whole awful period, and that was to fill my womb again. It felt empty and ached for another baby. I had been given the go ahead by my Dr Lew, and I saw no reason to wait any longer.

In late February 1997 I fell pregnant with 6.  It had been He who used to be’s birthday, so I am exactly sure of the dates. I knew straight away that I was pregnant. I even told He who used to be the following morning, that I had just fallen pregnant with our new son! He said, “surely we’d be getting a girl this time?”

But I knew…. I just always knew. I would play around with the idea of having a girl every now and again, but it was as if my mind would just say, “stop that nonsense, you know it’s a boy!” It’s the weirdest thing to have to explain, as it is simply a thought in my head that is adamant about things, then these things come to pass. It’s awfully handy when picking out nursery and clothing colours!

I was ecstatically happy with being pregnant, but  I was concerned also, and when at 10 weeks I started to spot blood, I thought I would lose my baby again. I had been so careful, not done anything really strenuous, however 5 was a big toddler and I did have to lift him into the car and bath sometimes when Daddy wasn’t there. The spotting was minimal and Dr Lew gave me the all clear after a few nights in hospital.

I returned home vowing not to lift 5 at all, and enlisted the help of friends and family for lifting washing baskets etc. My friends were great, and even though they all had families of their own, they were there for me. I am a very lucky woman to have the friends I have. My sister in law J was again the backbone of my life. She did so much for us and our boys, I will truly never forget all the love and support she gave us all.

It was impossible not to lift and carry on with life as normal, He who used to be and I were living between our flat in town, and our new property out of town, so there was constant packing and movement between the two properties. The “farm” had no water supply other than a small rain water tank that was very old, and I couldn’t bath the children or do washing. Life was fairly basic out there, so mostly the kids and I stayed in town. We would pack up for a few days at a time and head out, but during the pregnancy I mostly decided it would be better to stay put in town.

Things progressed normally for weeks on end and I began to feel secure in the pregnancy. However as we approached the 20 week mark I began to feel crampy and sore. I told Dr Lew who examined me and couldn’t find a reason for the discomfort. He told me to continue taking it easy at home. With a five year old and a two year old this was not so easy, but the flat was small and easy to maintain, and the boys were able to do a lot for themselves. We split their bunk beds so I wouldn’t have to reach up to make them. We left things like cleaning showers and such for a much later date.

He who used to be’s older four children had moved interstate with their mother, causing a lot of grief for us at the time. We missed them terribly, and as they had moved so far away, we wouldn’t be able to see them regularly at all. I can remember one visit we had from them, just a few months after they moved away. The kids had all grown so much! The eldest boy was all of a sudden a young man, and the girls fast approaching teenage years. It was beautiful to get all the kids together again, and they played for hours with the younger boys. Helping their Dad make a sandpit in the small backyard of the unit for the little ones. We didn’t see the older kids again for almost 6 months!

Late in the afternoon one day in mid July ’97 I told He who used to be that I felt exhausted, and asked could he take the boys out to the farm for the night, I would meet him there the next day. I wanted to spend a night in town by myself, and rest. The boys were very demanding, and I was 20 weeks pregnant and feeling exhausted! He packed them up in the afternoon, and after promising I would be out with a yummy lunch for them the next day, off he went for the night. We often did this, sometimes He who used to be would go to the farm to do some work and leave us in town, sometimes we would all stay out there, and sometimes we would all stay in town. It was a very flexible way to live, and our boys loved it. So did we. We felt that we had the best of both worlds!

This night I decided to do some folding and catch up with laundry. I had done everything, had a last cup of tea and decided to head to the shower before bed. I hadn’t really done much, just folded a basket of washing and put it away. For some reason I had done everything I could think of in the flat. The dishes were all done, the beds were all made and everything was tidy and clean. Thank goodness for I wasn’t to return to the flat again for months after that night.

Call it instinct? Nature called for me to get everything organized for my baby. And I did!

As I headed into the bathroom I stopped and stared at the boys empty beds. Such a feeling of sadness and loneliness overcame me. I felt so melancholy looking at the striped “Bananas in Pyjamas” doona covers that 3 had begged me to buy for him and his brother’s beds just a few weeks earlier. Their room was so tidy, unnatural looking. It was an eery feeling. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be tucking my children into their own beds at home for a long time.

I stepped into the shower and as I began to wash I noticed a bit of blood in the bottom of the shower. I was alarmed and quickly decided to get out and lay down. It was as I stepped out and began drying myself that the flood began. It was terrifying. Buckets of blood seemed to be pouring out of me all at once. I knew that I was hemorrhaging and had just minutes to get to the hospital before I bled out. I had become an expert on survival strategies during my my pregnancy with James. (Ironically, I never bled at all the night James was born.) I shoved a big fluffy bath towel between my legs, threw on a night gown and shoes and bolted for the car. It didn’t even occur to me to call an ambulance as I was three streets away from the hospital, and knew I could get there in just over a minute. Waiting for an ambulance could cost me my baby’s life and I wasn’t going to chance that.

I had some car trouble with my Ford station wagon earlier that month and had to push or roll start it a couple of times. I thought it was the battery but as it had started first time for over a week I thought the problem had fixed itself? HA. Picture a panic stricken woman, who hadn’t even phoned the hospital to warn them of her arrival, gushing blood everywhere jumping into a car only to have it not start!!

Aaaargh! It was just over a minute since the bleeding had started, I threw the gear stick into second, opened the door and gently pushed the car out of the car port onto the slope of the flat’s communal driveway. It steepened quite quickly, I jumped into the driver’s seat, pushed my foot into the clutch and released it and THANK GOD ALMIGHTY the engine came to life. I drove like a maniac for the minute and a half to the hospital, parked my car neatly and then bolted for maternity, completely by-passing emergency, as I knew where to go to give my baby his best chance. The looks on the faces of the maternity staff as I came screaming down the hall!! “STOP RUNNING!” the mid-wives yelled to me, as they could see the blood flying from me. I had no idea what I was doing, panic had completely taken over, but strangely as I entered the care of these wonderful people, I became calm. I had another clear as a bell thought in my head that told me everything was going to be fine. Just lay down and let them take care of you.

Do I think it is God talking to me in my head? Kind of, especially when I remember the dream I had of letting James go the night before I had him. The dream I had as he was dying clearly showed me that James was going upwards, out of my body, and I was fighting to pull him back  down to me. The way I see it is that “God won”. James is with Him now. Maybe it is my own subconscious talking to me. The “voice” or ‘thought” in my head has always known exactly what is happening and what is going to happen next. (That I’m having a baby, that it is a male child etc). Something you would expect your subconsciousness to know, yes? I won’t know for sure until I meet my maker. But in my life I choose to believe, and therefore it is more logical for me to understand that “God” was talking to me, or allowing me to “think” for myself, these life changing and sometimes life-saving thoughts. I’m not saying, “God talks to me”, I’m simply stating that I “listen” to these specific thoughts I have at special times in my life. And that these “thoughts”  have an uncanny ability to be 100% right. The guidance is good, so I’m going to trust it. There is no clearer way for me to explain my faith.

It was scarey, but I knew things would be okay, I was filled with a feeling of calm once I arrived at Maternity. I knew I was in good, and most importantly, caring hands. These ladies are exceptionally good at their work, and as I had birthed a few times in their unit before, I was well known to them, and the risks associated with my new pregnancy taken into consideration from the start. None of these girls expected me to keep my baby that night, they told me later they were sure I was going to lose 6, the amount of blood I was losing was a very bad indication. I lay as still as I could that night. I kept saying, “I cannot lose another baby”. “I won’t lose him, I can’t!” I knew it would cripple me if I had to go home once again without a baby in my arms.

I was able to sleep for a few hours early in the morning, and when I awoke the bleeding had all but stopped. The nurses and midwives were astonished at how lucky I had been. I was scheduled for an ultrasound later that day that showed a good strong heartbeat, but because of the bleeding not a lot else could be seen. In the next few days while resting in hospital it was decided that I was a high risk case and should consider moving to Canberra Hospital in order to give my infant a chance should he be born prematurely.

Our local hospital, although fantastic, did not have the necessary skills or equipment to care for an extremely preemie baby. Dr Lew directed me to a top Specialist who I was to see when I arrived in Canberra. He didn’t think it was necessary at that point to put me in Hospital in Canberra, and thought it best if myself and the children could find somewhere to stay in Canberra, so we could be close to the N.I.C.U. (Newborn Intensive Care Unit), if my baby was born early.

Luckily Magoo was living in Canberra at the time, and she was delighted to have us come and stay. We were unsure how long we would have to leave our home for, but being with Grandma and Grandpa was so much better than me having to leave my boys at home with their dad and go to Canberra Hospital by myself. We moved into Magoo’s house to await the Specialist appointment. He who used to be brought us up to Canberra in the family wagon, stayed the weekend, but had to return for work on Monday, so he drove the 3 hours home, Sunday night.

I had an appointment with the Specialist at Canberra Ante-natal clinic, the following Tuesday. I was just under 21 weeks.

One fine day a little stork who was up to no good decided to drop a little bundle of joy on two people who were still in the throes of finding out what they were doing to with each other. My ex, He who used to be, and I were probably not a perfect match, but to this day we remain good friends, and I know if we were to ever need the other, there would be a helping or supportive hand. As long as it didn’t cost too much, or require him to move an inch!! Ha ha, but really, this story is not about us, but about a young man, and his incredible journey through life so far….

5!! Where do I start dear child? You are a star among stars. Your imagination and sensitivity inspired me when you were only a tiny boy of 2! But let’s go back further than that, I know you don’t want me to, but I think it’s important. It’s made you who you are my boy….

It started with a phone call to Magoo. There I was 9 and a half months pregnant waddling around with the phone pressed to my ear trying to hear, (over the song and dance that is “Playschool”), what Magoo was trying to say to me.

“I said OF COURSE YOU’RE IN BLOODY LABOR, WHAT ELSE COULD IT BE!!??” she said.

“Oh, yeah I s’pose Ma, hang on a minute while I turn this telly down……3, you are going to make mummy deaf! Big Ted can’t hear you screaming a song at him you know?”

I had rung mother in confusion. Having been induced with 3, I really wasn’t sure how labor felt when it didn’t begin at 100 miles and hour like a Mac Truck driving through my middle. (Yep, that’s what 3’s labor was like! And it went on for days….)

So, as I said I had rung mother to say I had been having little twinges about 20 minutes apart for a couple of hours, did she think it meant anything? Having had her confirm that I was in fact in labor, I went about organizing myself to be trotted off to the hospital. As 3, (my first baby), had been an engineered experience from start to finish and I had spent days in hospital before giving birth to an actual baby, I decided to labor as much as I could at home.

He who used to be, arrived home from work to find me alternately panting and crouching at the stove, cooking an easy dinner for us. “Here we go!” was about all he had to say at this point. I agreed between gritted teeth.

Long story short I ended up at home all through that long night, in and out of the bath, in and out of bed. Sobbing devastatingly beside the sprung mouse trap as it caught it’s first victim. A baby mouse!! How could I possibly be so heartless! Poor baby…

I’ll never forget at one point as I grappled and pinched at the flesh on He who used to be’s hip, him saying to me, “what’s up dear? Do you need to go to the Hospital now?” My response being negative, he then asked, “well could you please stop clawing at my hip so I can get some sleep?” Like I said, it was a looong night.

We finally arrived at the hospital around 6am, whereupon I instantly dropped my bundle, of water that is. Little 5 was born screaming just over an hour later..

3 meets his little brother for the first time, just a few hours after his birth.

3 meets his little brother for the first time, just a few hours after his birth.

Little 5 was big, huge in fact! A whopping 8lb’s and 9oz of gorgeous fat little china-man. (His little eyes pushed up like slits to make room for his chubby cheeks). He was adorable, the sweetest baby. But. He. Didn’t. Stop. Screaming……Ever!

Really he didn’t. Only for 5 hours on Christmas Day, days after his birth. That was the only sleep poor 5 ever had. He only ever napped, for 10 or 15 minutes at a time.

Finally at around 3 weeks, we had a diagnosis. My poor baby had reflux, and was born with double inguinal hernias. The hernias are common in boys and simply mean the passage the testicles take when “dropping” haven’t quite closed properly and may need surgery to close them. The reflux was a different story.

About 12 weeks old and you can already see he is sleep deprived!

Just 9 weeks old and you can already see he is sleep deprived!

One by one my friends stopped dropping by. They just couldn’t stand the screaming, and the baby crying bothered them as well…. I learned to do everything with one hand. He only wanted to feed. He needed to constantly swallow in order to stop the contents of his stomach rising up into his mouth, the stomach acid burning his throat being the reason for his pain. That and the hernias!

At 8 weeks old he was operated on for his hernias, and I expected a somewhat more settled baby. Nope! No change at all. He continued to scream and feed on an almost constant basis.

I honestly don’t know how we coped, He who used to be spent a lot more time at the pub, and I spent a lot of time crying and at the doctors. By the time he was 12 weeks old my baby had been given Zantac, (an ulcer medication), and Mylanta, as well as Gripe Water, nothing made any difference except constantly holding and feeding him.

It’s important for me to say that although he drove me insane, and caused a lot of craziness in the household, I loved 5 more than anything! He was my beautiful boy, and I felt so sorry for him. I would have done anything to help him.

I never had a choice about sleeping with 5, I just had to.  And I had to do it sitting upright, with him in my arms, feeding. All night long he would feed and nap, waking me with his cries to change sides. I would awaken to massive hiccies on my chest, where he had tried to latch on in the dark!

Slowly, as he began to move around and learn to crawl, he became less dependent on me for comfort, and I was able to sleep in the night for longer than an hour or so at a time.

I have been in hospital, and was just browsing through my reader catching up on my favorite girls, Patty, Laurie and Joey’s latest posts, when I noticed Joey had been awarded a “Shine On” Award from a fellow blogger. Knowing she deserved this honour, I continued reading excitedly, and then stopped cold when I realized she was nominating ME. Fancy that?

I don’t know exactly how these things work, but I think I’m meant to nominate this award onwards as well!

I’m supposed to nominate my favorite 15 bloggers and answer a few questions, so here we go:

AThankfullyImperfectWoman

Life on the Bike and other Fab Things

Sethsnap

MyLores.com

Bucket List Publications

whatImeant2say

The Top 10 of Anything and Everything

About The Children LLC’s Blog

Simple Pleasures

Eye Dancers

Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane Blog

Cristian Mihai

Lilacs and Linens

John Mitchell

Cancerkillingrecipe

Well that’s 15 of my favorite bloggers right there. A very varied bunch if I may say so, designed to tickle any fancy I may be needing at various times of my day or week. All of them inspiring, funny, creative and awesome.
Now for these questions:
1. How did you choose names for your children?
For my eldest son I chose the names Elliot James. I was entranced as a teen by the movie E.T. and the way he would say “Ell-i-yot”.
I would sometimes talk to my belly, as I guessed he was a boy early on, and call him Ell-i-yot in the same way.
My second son was named Jacob Patrick. I loved the story of the Biblical Jacob, who was born holding the heel of his older brother, his twin, Esau. Patrick after my eldest brother.
My final son was named Dale Micheal. Dale after a lady I met in hospital whilst having him, who struck me as a most kind soul, and Micheal after a dying friend.
I had a wee son between Jacob and Dale, all through the early pregnancy we called him Jimmy, unfortunately we lost him at 25 weeks. We would have celebrated his 17th birthday yesterday.
It’s weird, but I knew all my kids were boys, almost as soon as the pregnancy began. I never found out until they were born for sure, but I always KNEW. I had all the blue stuff ready and only with Jacob did I falter close to my due date and put a couple of pink things in the drawers just in case.
2.  What are your moral guidelines or what is your religious faith?
I believe in being a good person, doing the right thing.
I believe in “God” whoever or whatever God may be. I have faith based not on any organized religion, but on my inner feelings of peace and love. The “oneness” I feel directly after I ask for guidance, help or relief.
I believe in Hope. I would never have gotten through the last 20 years without it.
I believe in fidelity and love, loyalty and passion.
I believe that I am finally with my soul mate, my intended love, and will stick steadfastly to him until I draw my last breath.
Soulmates. Fitty and I.

Soulmates. Fitty and I.

I believe in humanity. I believe we aren’t all bad. I believe in trying to maintain this planet and keep it “clean” for future generations.
I believe in parenting to the fullest extent of our abilities. We are not here to be our children’s “friends” but to provide a clear moral and ethical blueprint for them to choose their path in life.
I believe in rules and regulations, I follow laws. I believe in authority and the wisdom of elders.
A wealth of wisdom. Four generations in one photo!

A wealth of wisdom. Four generations in one photo!

3.  What do you do in your free time?
I actually have quite a lot of “free” time now that I am an ill person. I have always loved to read, and have now, at the insistence of my partner, added writing to that pastime.
I love the beach, summer, and living by the water. I am endlessly fascinated by nature, and will just sit quietly and observe my beautiful surroundings for hours.
I don’t have much time for television, but love a good movie.
creating a "shot" for Fitty in our front yard, the lake.

creating a “shot” for Fitty in our front yard, the lake.

Beach cricket, a favorite pastime for the whole family

Beach cricket, a favorite pastime for the whole family

again in the front yard playing up to the camera with our dear departed friend, Razor the dog.

again in the front yard playing up to the camera with our dear departed friend, Razor the dog.

Taking a dip at the beach at the end of our road, a secret spot for locals. 4 and 7, back a few years..

Taking a dip at the beach at the end of our road, a secret spot for locals. 4 and 7, back a few years..

4.  What song, television show, film speaks to you, and why?
All time favorite artist without a doubt, is David Bowie. As a teenager he was my hero. I don’t really have a favorite song of his, they are ALL AWESOME! I think he is one of the coolest people ever born, I really do.
The next best thing is Queen for me. I just love Queen’s music, the majestic “Bohemian Rhapsody”and “My Best Friend”, are my all time feel good songs.
I love romantic comedies, but enjoy a good tense thriller just as much. All depends on the mood I’m in.
I’ll never forget watching “Flying High” with my little brother, and laughing so much my stomach hurt the next day. I suppose that was the movie that began my love affair with film.
Like my friend Joey, from Joeyfullystated I just love “Friends”.  You simply cannot go past “Friends” as a TV show. My babies were being born as this show began it’s life, and I would sit and feed and watch and laugh. Later, the mutual love of this show was a real help in developing a bond with one of my beautiful step daughters. (She was at a difficult age, and the shared laughs went a long way in breaking the ice.)
4 and I playing dress ups for the camera

4 and I playing dress ups for the camera

5. What is your favorite animal and why?
When I was a young child, I never wanted a puppy, kitten, bird or fish as a pet. I would ask Magoo, (my mother, so named for her driving abilities and style), for a pet Chimpanzee. I don’t know whether it was because of Tarzan and “Cheetah” or because of the chimps I would frequently see on TV dressed in little dresses or nappies. I can’t remember when the obsession started, but it did.
I was somewhat turned off them at age  7 or 8 when my parents took me to Taronga Zoo and I saw the many chimps in the enclosure throwing pooh at each other, and the watching crowd. I remember thinking that my monkey would never do that, and besides, it would be wearing an adorable little nappy and dress anyway.
I never got my monkey of course, but to this day I am fascinated by the mimicry these animals make of humans. I am always chuffed when I see a monkey, and will watch or read anything about them, anywhere.
I’m also rather partial to dogs. My little doggie Pooh is a part of our family, and is my best friend. She doesn’t know she’s a “pet”, so I won’t tell her if you don’t?
Now you know a little more about me. I wrangled a bit in my head over whether to “name” my kids, but figured it couldn’t do too much harm? Others do.
I’m getting back on my blogging horse, slowly but surely you’ll be hearing more from me. I just had a terrible week after busting loose at the Wedding last weekend. I want to share a few more of my fave photos with you as well. Catch you soon.

Wow! I’m totally blown away by this whole experience! I will never be able to thank T enough for letting me be there for her and little “JJ” at the moment of his birth. I am completely in love with this new little man!

I got to the Maternity Wing at around 8am and T and I quietly chatted, (well she was pretty quiet), I was like an little kid, rambling excitedly from one subject to the next! We were joined by D, (T’s hubby) and her two year old daughter shortly after. At around 9am they came to take T away to prep her for the Cesar. They came and got me 20 mins later, and then I stood around outside the operating theatre while they administered this and that to T.

During that time I was dressed in scrubs and hanging around outside theatre, I was approached no less than 3 times by visiting surgeons and asked questions about the procedure and layout of the Operating Suite. This was hilarious, and if I hadn’t been so nervous for T, I could have had a lot of lunatic fun “playing nurse” for real! I addressed the first real nurse I saw, and said, “you guys really should have different coloured gowns or hats for visitors!” I told her what had happened and she said she’d bring it up at the next meeting, she also added that the surgeons wouldn’t remember something as simple as hat colours anyway, as they are all visitors from other hospitals! Teaching Hospitals get pretty crazy I expect?

I digress, after standing around for what seemed like ages, I was finally led to T. She was so serene and calm, I thought “piece of cake”,(during my emergency c-section with 6, my arms were vibrating with the shakes.)

It was a piece of cake! My best friend is so amazing, she was so patient! She looked concerned a few times, but no real problems.

At the moment they pulled the baby from her, I saw the most beautiful little face. He came out so clean and lovely, with a perfectly handsome face. I knew straight away he was a boy, and said to T, “that’s a boy face”, and lo and behold, caught a glimpse of the right equipment seconds later. “It’s a boy, it’s a beautiful boy”.

At times throughout the day I would watch D looking proudly at his son, and nearly cry! Grandma D was beside herself with pride, she now has 2 of the most good looking grandchildren ever, to crow about! What a happy family they are. C was quite happy to kiss her new brother, but as most 2 yr olds, she was just as happy running around making us laugh!

The rest of the day was spent watching T and her family, with her new baby, marveling at what a natural she was with her newborn. He fed voraciously throughout the day, and wet enough nappies to keep me busy! T was in a lot of pain so I hung around until quite late in the evening to help her with things. During that time we talked, and tried not to laugh too much, poor T! I was so glad I was able to be there for her, and provide comfort to both of them. I felt very privileged to have seen those first moments of a new life. I also feel like the bond between T and I has deepened once again. I only hope I get to repay her one day for the blessing she has bestowed on me.

I can’t wait to get back to them today!

Hello Mummy! Tand JJ

Hello Mummy! Tand JJ

Jayden Kyle 045