Birthing Unit Flash Cards

As I recently mentioned - my mum, my sister and my partner will be in the room with me during my labour. My sister Maddi was in there last time. She knows the drill. My partner Pat was in there last time. He too, knows the drill.

(Maddi's part being she's the one who helps me, wipes my face, distracts me from contractions, Pat's part being giving me his hand and being wise enough to say nothing when I almost break his fingers).

 

My mum will be there this time too. Now don't get me wrong. My mum is a wonderful woman. I've always been able to talk to her about anything. I have always been very honest with her. Which is why I'm making her birthing unit flash cards.

You see - she's had five children. Yes, FIVE. So she's a bit of a veteran of childbirth. She also has a tendency to not think before she speaks. So to help her out. And me, I have created:

 

 

 

Things You Can't Say To Me (will get you kicked out)

 

• Oh stop complaining, I've done it five times
  
• You're hurting me
  
• you got it in there, you gotta get it out
  
• you've done it before
  
• it's not that bad.
  
• you don't need the drugs
  
• shut up and push
  
• can I watch her head come out?
  

 

Things you CAN say to me

• you are doing wonderfully
  
• I am so proud of you
  
• not long now
  
• what do you need?
  

 

Luckily, my mum has a great sense of humour and thinks these are hilarious.

 

 

 

What were your birthing unit rules?

So the plan goes...

Dex showing you all where the baby is. If all goes to plan, this time in two weeks I'm going to be holding my little girl in my arms.

Or at least well on my way to holding her in my arms.

Which is scary. Exciting. Thrilling. Nerve wracking. So many things in my "plan" could go wrong. It could completely not work.

I could go in for observation next week and they could tell me I'm not allowed to go home.

I could go for my reflexology only to have my body decide not to respond.

I could go to my reflexology and have it not happen as quickly as I planned it would, to go to my doctors appointment the next day and tell me they are inducing me.

I COULD go on and on about the different scenarios that may happen. But I'm not going to.

Instead, I'm going to say: When i go into labour, my sister Maddi, my mum Fiona and my partner Pat will be there with me to support me. My mum knows she will be kicked out if she says certain things to me (another blog topic entirely). My sister knows what to do as she was there for my first. And Pat - well he was good at making me laugh.

My little sister Michellie will be looking after Dex. My Dad will (hopefully) be looking after the Bowling Alley (check their website HERE).

I am well aware they may want to give me an epidural again because of my blood pressure. When I had Dex, I only had the initial blocker and that worked well. I plan on explaining this to them.

I am well aware I may feel like I need the gas again. And I am not opposed to this.

No one is going to give me a medal for having no pain relief. So I do not need to try and be a hero about it.

In the same token, if I don't feel I need/want it - I'm not going to have it just because it's there. I WOULD like to not have the gas - it was a weird feeling.

I think this time around I feel a lot more prepared. Prepared because I'm going to actively try and go into labour early, so I can experience it. I'm more calm about it. Dex's labour was 3.5 hours of confusion, not knowing what was happening or why and unsureness of what I was doing. I never had a chance to come to terms with the fact I was having a BABY - I couldn't get past the birth.

This time, I'm ready. Bring it on. I have wonderful support people. I have a realistic view. I have a gorgeous son who proves to me I've done it before, I can do it again.

(if anyone says these words to me in the labour ward - you're out!)

Monday Must do's.

*note* Shit in car - does not mean actually shit in the car. It means get all the crap out of my car, because she was a brand new car 3 months a go and now you would never be able to tell. I'm sure it breaks Pat's heart a little every time he gets in it. (he just doesn't undertsand what having children in your car does to it)

What's your monday Must Do's?

Pregnancy and it's limitations

There are things you expect pregnancy to limit you doing.
Roller derby, getting tattooed, fitting into clothes properly, the missionary position...

I didn't really think it would affect my ability to budget, to support local businesses and to give my family the fresher food possible (I know Woolworths claims to be the Fresh Food People, but I'm sure it's not fresher than the growers markets - sorry!). But it has.

I can't do the markets any more, it's too hot and I get dizzy, my heart beats fast and I get REALLY hot.
Which is disappointing. Not only do I like supporting these farmers, my wallet likes it too. I like it because I know it's fresh and when I'm buying things, I know it's available because it's in season. My wallet likes it because the fruit and veg from the markets is a fraction of the price of the supermarke variety. But I guess beggars (or those with blood pressure issues) can't be choosers.

On the bright side, we got a meat delivery. It costs us $85 for 10kg of meat. And it's good cuts. In that we get roasts, steaks, mince... Lots of things. Makes it 1) Easier for me - the gentleman delivers it and brings it right into my kitchen. 2) cheaper for me and 3) better for me, because all the meat is raised by them on their farm and butchered by them. The family is into it's 4th generaton of butchers or something like that!

So, back to the Pregnancy side of things.
I've decided that I'm going to get massage/reflexology on my ankles at 36 weeks in hopes of inducing labour. I know that you all might think I'm a little crazy, BUT I was induced with Dex at 37 1/2 weeks. We're only having two kids. My blood pressure is up high already. I want to experience going into labour naturally, if it's possible. I don't think that's unreasonable.

I'm sick of not being able to walk properly, because every step sends shooting pains down my back and across my pelvis. I'm sick of not being able to sleep properly. Or eat properly. Or shower properly!
I can't cuddle Dex or play with him like he deserves. We have a shower together every morning and every night. it's our down time. our quiet time together. Water - showers in particular, really mellow him out. He likes to just climb onto my lap and cuddle me. It's getting to the point where this is almost physically impossible and I miss it.

I know a lot of things will change when this little doll comes along, but my shower cuddles are one thing I'm going to cling on to...

Wednesday Wramblings.

It has been one week since my last confession. I mean blog.

Sorry I've been so lazy.
I've been in hospital twice in the last week for baby related issues. Everything is fine, she's still in there, but I'm definitely counting down the days.

I'm not scared of labour. Or of the birth. I'm excited about it. Looking forward to it. It means I will have my little girl in my arms and she will be able to meet her Mumma and Daddy and big brother, who are all looking so forward to meeting her...

I'm pretty impressed with how well my body is holding up this pregnancy - well, except for my boobs, but to be honest I didn't expect them to "hold up" at all since breast feeding. Perks of the job I guess.
But really, I have no (new) stretchmarks, I'm still fitting into my size 10 maternity jeans that were bought at 12 weeks pregnant - this time pregnant with Dex I was pushing 14 being too small in the same style jeans, so I feel good about myself.
I'm one of those pregnant mummas that wears a bikini to the pool. Yep, I have a big, round, moon white belly. You don't like it? Cover your eyes. I don't tell you I don't like looking at your cat's bum face or bad hair cut - same thing.

OH and so, SO over selfish people parking in the parent's spots. SERIOUSLY?!?! Do you park in disabled parking without a sticker? No, because you'd feel bad. So why park in the parent's parking without a child? IT'S THE SAME THING! *please note* I have no objection to disabled people parking in parents parking when there aren't enough spots, or to really pregnant women parking in them either.

I'm having a day where my brain is all over the shop.
I think we're having an eat from the freezer/pantry week because with everythig that's been going on, I haven't been budgeting, meal planning, anything really. And our savings are going down and our spending is going up, which I really don't like or need to be happening right now.

Your Scar Story

You were a great baby. You fed, you slept, you poo'd. You were gorgeous (still are). You were tiny.

Around the two week mark, you started looking like pooing was painful. Mum told me it wasn't normal and I should ask at your two week check up. I asked and they said it was fine, you were probably just working on strengthening your muscles.

Then you started vomiting. ALL THE TIME. At first, I thought maybe you'd caught a bug and felt guilty because I'd taken you out too early. Then it got worse. I thought it might have been reflux, or colic. You were vomiting after every meal. We ended up sleeping you on your stomach from about 3 weeks, because of how much you'd throw up.

You didn't just spew, you projectile vomited. You started weeing pink on Monday 21^st September, the day before you were 5 weeks old. That night you screamed. For an hour straight. A painful scream that broke my heart. I called mum and she heard you and said go straight to the hospital.

When we got there, the triage nurse treated your dad and I like we were idiots. Like we were just stupid, young parents. You were arching your back in pain and she told us we were holding you properly. She told us you were screaming because you needed a singlet. She asked how you seemed to us and when we told her "he's just not himself" she replied with "they change, you know." She told us that babies weeing pink happens sometimes.

We sat there for 4 hours waiting to see a doctor. By that time, you had screamed yourself to sleep. The doctor told me you looked fine. He said that we could admit you then and you wouldn't be seen until morning, or we could go home and if we were still concerned, we could ring up and book an ultrasound in the morning.

You slept between us that night. For fourteen hours. A five week old baby, sleeping for 14 hours. Something was definitely wrong. You even projectile vomited in the middle of the night and didn't wake up.

The next morning, you had started throwing up yellow. I called and booked you an ultrasound, because I was convinced something wasn't right. That ended up in a lot of running around as the doctor didn't give me any forms to get you xrayed, which made me feel like he too thought we were just being pedantic parents. The whole day I tossed up between taking you back to the hospital. You started being limp and unresponsive, so we went in to emergency and I said to the triage "we were here last night and you have to see him, now."

She took us straight through. The doctor saw us straight away as well. Told me he had a suspicion of what you had. At 12pm they made me feed you. At 2pm you had your ultrasound that I had already booked, which showed your stomach was still full. You were admitted, put on a drip to hydrate you, and a tube down your nose in hopes of draining your stomach so you weren't constantly throwing up.

We got told we would be flying out the next day to Newcastle (Royal Prince Albert Hospital). But that day, we had a massive dust storm. The hospital told us they wouldn't be able to fly, we'd have to go by road in an ambulance, then they told us they were going to wait and see if the air cleared a little more so we could fly – which it didn't. At 5pm just as we were finally getting into an ambulance to drive down, I received a phone call from the head of surgery asking how far away we were as they were reading to operate. They had been told we had left at 12pm.

We were in RPA until Friday before you were operated on. They had a lot of emergencies that came in and to them, you weren't an emergency (which I totally understand, you were stable and at no risk of dying).

The wait while you had your operation was terrible. The time dragged on. I tried to go and get something to eat but couldn't. I spent a little time in the Ronald Macdonald room, and I'll never forget how wonderful those ladies were too me. Mostly, my time was spent sitting outside the doors, pretending to read a book, waiting until I could be called to come and hold you again.

Finally the surgeon came out and told me you were in recovery. He told me that your blockage was so significant your stomach was closed over. He said it's one of the worst he's ever operated on and you're lucky to have still been so healthy considering. He also told me that if we have more children, their chance of this happening isn't increased, but if you have children, theirs are

We took you home the next day. You had stopped throwing up blood and were keeping food down. Your stomach muscles had been weakened from throwing up so much, so it was easier for things to come up than stay down.

At 5 weeks of age, you were back to your birth weight. A tiny 2.8kg. I'm so glad that your Daddy and I listened to our instincts, because you could have ended up a whole lot worse. And as for that nurse? Well, I've never actually complained about her. I'm still very tempted to though...

My Little Mister

This is Dexter.

(I did have a photo on here, but I got a creepy comment from a random named "John" so I have removed it).

He is my adorable, energetic, cheeky, life loving, opportunity grabbing 18 month old son. He is completely adorable and a little bit strange sometimes.

There are people in my life who are lucky enough to know him personally. For those of you missing out, let me tell you a little about him.

He likes drinking bath water. And eating bubbles. I'm not entirely sure why, but he is obsessed. Don't worry though, he'll try and share with you by saying "Ta!" in the cutest little voice and offering some too you, you'll feel compelled to pretend drink/eat what ever he's having.

He LOVES animals. Up until recently, everything has been a gog (dog). Now, it's either a dog, cat or a bird. Doesn't matter which one it REALLY is, he will still try and grab it's head/tail/body part within reach and drag it to his face for a kiss. Or five.

He's started toilet training himself. He tells me "poos" when he needs to go to the toilet. This word covers wees, poos and farts. Yesterday he was wet when he got up because he'd woken at 5am. He told me poos and I pretty much said "yes dear" but he was ademant, so I put him on the toilet and he did a wee. He was then running around without a nappy on, told me poos again and I assumed he just needed to do another wee, so I told him "good boy for telling mummy! you just do poos outside, ok?" That's why I had to clean poo off the deck.

He loves to laugh and loves making other people laugh. He will sit with his father and they'll both squeal at each other and takes turns giggling. It's a great game. He will also say "toes!" and try and eat your toes, because you freaking out about a child trying to eat your toes is obviously hilarious.

Dexter LOVES babies. Everything is a baby now. He rubs my belly and says baby! and kisses it. However, the other day I had no shirt on. My belly button has popped out. So he says baby, pats my belly and then ever so gently MOUTHED MY BELLY BUTTON! He thought it was great fun. I was mortified. No more shirt free belly kissings for a while.

He'll also rub his dad's belly and say baby and the other day he pulled up his shirt and made me rub his own belly and say baby. Obviously a little confused at the whole concept, but I think he's doing pretty well for 18 months.

He amazes me every day with the new words that come out. He's going to start day care on monday and I can't help but feel he won't be my little mister anymore. He'll be a bit more grown up and a bit closer to being the beautiful, funny, sensitive, caring and handsome man I know he will be one day.

Thursday Morning Markets.

Well, at least that was the plan this morning.
But when I arrived, my favourite big fruit and veg stand wasn't there. It completely through me out.
I went to the local fruit/veg mart instead, but I'm still a little out of sorts because they've completely destroyed my usual thursday morning!

So anyways, the weekly meal plan is as follows:
Mango Chicken
Chicken Laksa
Sausage Slowcooker
Chickpea Curry
Salmon - is what Pat wanted, but I'm not entirely sure that's what he's getting
Quiche
Pumpkin Pasta.

We have all the chicken and the sausages in the freezer...

Recipe for Mango Chicken:

1/2 red onion finely diced
4 chicken thighs cubed
1 tin mangos (drained, keep juice/syrup)
1 can coconut cream.

Mash the flesh of the mangoes. Then, add EVERYTHING into a slow cooker on low for 8 hours and you're done! So simple! Serve with rice =]

Sunday Morning Sleepless

This is ridiculous.

And before someone says "welcome to the terrible two's", I am warning you, that if you utter those words I will most likely burst into tears of rage and frustration whilst attempting to rip out your jugular.

I can understand how people shake their children. Sleep deprivation does terrible, terrible things to even the strongest mind. I would never, ever do it, but there are times where I've wrapped him in my arms so he can't move and cried. Just rocked him and cried. Because there's nothing else I can do.

He just won't sleep. I don't know why. He used to sleep 8pm – 8am. No, haven't changed his routine. We haven't changed anything. I'm pregnant, but I've been pregnant for a good 7 months now, so I don't believe that's it. Last night, he wouldn't go to sleep until just after 9pm. Back up at 11pm. Up at 5:30am and has been alternating between yelling "out! Out! Out!" at me, and me going in and saying "bed." And he gets back in and sooks a little, until I walk out and it starts again. Oh, he head butts the door too, just to drive his words home. So I've just left him. I'm going to let him out in 2 minutes, because then it's 7am and I can deal with 7am becoming the routine. 7am is fine. 5:30am is not.

I can't afford for this to happen. It's something like 60 days until Baby in my belly will make an entrance. Between him not sleeping and her needing to eat every four hours, I'll end up looking like I could be an extra in Dawn of the Dead – or something along those attractive lines.

I'm not the only one, am I? Other people's children have gone from being great sleepers to the spawn of Satan as soon as bed time hits? It goes back to normal, doesn't it? DOESN'T IT?

The advantages to bulk cooking

In one of my earliest posts, I tell you all HERE about how I'm convinced one of the reasons $50 is a hard budget to stick to because I overcook.

BUT that's not always a bad thing. I just decided. I'm almost 31 weeks pregnant and right now, struggling to be motivated to be healthy at all. I've done well so far, I really haven't put on much (noticable) weight - which I credit to my toddling excersize machine. However, that doesn't mean that I can eat a family sized packet of BBQ chips and expect it to be ok. Not to mention the complete guilt factor of lack of anything nutritious in said bag of chips for the incubating one.

This:

Is the laksa I made a little while a go (I gave you the link to the blog with all the great recipes). This is by no means, a small wok. It's actually a pretty big wok. What I made that night was actually about 5 - 6 BIG serves - unintentionally. Now this is good, because Cue obligational feeling of eating something decent before I eat the packet of Timtams (cancel out the bad with the good, right?) I am currently eating Laksa that I had frozen just in case.

sidenote: Strangely - the Laksa I froze and then reheated is no where near as spicy as it was the day I made it - Great for a mummy who gets indigestion!

This: is the stew I cooked for dinner last night. It was massive. As you can probably tell. I'm not entirely sure WHY I feel like I need to cook for an entire army, but once again, it has worked in my favour.

I had 2 bowls of this last night and didn't even make a dent in it. Pat didn't eat any because he came home late.

So tonight, when I go out to dinner for a girls night (how exciting!!!) I know that both my boys will be well fed with no excuses.

Sometimes it's helpful to be a little excessive.

Don't take hubby grocery shopping.

I'm not even joking.

It seems when he comes shopping with me, both our self control centres go out the window. Maybe they are too busy trying to decide what ice cream they are going to buy to actually do their job.

we spent $80 on crappy food. Well, It wasn't ALL crappy. There was $20 worth of chicken, because he had to have chicken for lunch. We got milk too, because to do actually really need that. And there was cream cheese, because he had to have cream cheese on the sandwich too. And Soft drink, because we don't have any and we need it. Yeah, just like my pregnant bum needs those 3 packets of tim tams we bought because they were on special and the tub of icecream purchased for the same reason.

(I did get a $2 block of apricot and almond cheese and a box of crackers that I am totally NOT regretting at all.$3.35 well spent).

It makes me cranky as soon as we get home, because he likes to stress - particularly about money. Rarely a day goes by where he doesn't make a comment about needing to save or pay off debts or somethign else along those dreary lines.

But I am convinced that if he just avoided the supermarket, we could probably put a deposit on a house with the savings we would make! (This is a slight over exhaggeration. He'd need to quit smoking too).

Of course, I'm a big girl, so I can't just dump all the blame on him. Part of me says "you should tell him no!" but the other part says "He's a big boy, he doesn't need another mother, let him live with the choices." I need to be stronger when we go to the shops together and not give in to my wants just because he's not listening to his self control - I bought the tim tams. Makes me want to kick my own pregnant bum. But then my brain tells me to just calm down and have another tim tam, getting worked up isn't good for my blood pressure. So I do.

Speaking of pregnant - here is the latest photo froma progession shoot I'm doing with Captured With Love Photography (check them out, gorgeous stuff!). Cab you believe that's my 30 week belly? See the something sticking out from under my ribs? Weird, huh. Whats even weirder is that I've only got about 8 weeks left. I'm convinced I won't go to 40 weeks. At 37 +5 with Dex I was 4cm dialated. Either way, even if I do go to full term, 2 months and I'll have my baby girl in my arms.

She'll most likely be nameless, because let's be honest, you remember a slutty girl's name heaps before you remember a douchebag boys name, so Sophie who was holding hands with boys in year one totally turns you of that name, while Patrick who once hit you with his hat and made you bruise doesn't stick in your memory as strongly. (no, the Patrick I'm referring to wasn't the Patrick I'm now currently having babies with).

Any way - The point of this blog was to show everyone that I'm definitely not perfect. There are times when I drop the ball. When it's easier to not care about budgets. But the important thing is, I don't like doing it. It doesn't feel good. I imagine it's like trying to lose weight. You can have a splurge day, but instead fo making you feel good, it just makes you feel worse and you vow to try harder next time. And that's what I'll do.

So we all learn something.