- 23 year old going on 50. I take my carry basket to the farmers markets every week and Avoid getting a tan at all costs. I also have lots of tattoos. Two beautiful children and a "Hubby". And an obsession with cooking - moving into a place that doesn't have an oven...
Friday, April 29, 2011
Well, reading blogs and facebooking.
I can't help but be jealous of the mummy blogs I read.
Not all of them. Some - although amazingly well written - write about topics that never in a million years would you wish upon yourself just so you had something to talk about.
All the mummy blogs I read, I love. They are all either witty, enlightening, funny and a range of other things I wish my blog was.
They all leave me feeling rather uninspiring.
I had good intentions. I was going to help people stick to a budget with yummy recipes and the occasional life update thrown in. But I haven't even managed to do that.
Hell, I haven't bothered with a $50 budget for weeks. I just haven't been bothered.
How am I meant to help and inspire people if I can't even motivate myself to do it?
Perhaps I should resign myself to the vast collection of mummy bloggers that one just passes over in their watching list.
But oh well. I'll keep writing.
I'm considering doing a post schedule to hopefully motivate me and in turn, turn my blog into the blog I had planned it to be.
I'm just wondering if that would be a little too... predictable though.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
This time last week my baby girl was 6.5 hours old.
I can't believe how quickly it's gone already. I haven't even given you a photo yet. So there you go. She looks like a big chubba in that photo hehe
Having Lola has made me realise I was born to be a mum. I can't imagine being anything else. Even when I'm frustrated, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. I don't find myself wanting 5 minutes to myself. I enjoy having my little people around.
I'm amazed I have been given such a precious gift that is all mine.
These little people rely on me for everything. I am their world. It is such an amazing feeling.
Pat has gone out tonight and asked if I was ok for a couple of hours. I think he feels guilty about going out with friends and leaving me at home. But I really don't mind.
I don't miss any of it.
I don't miss smoking. I don't miss drinking. I don't miss talking about pointless crap with people who couldn't care less.
How could I want to do those things when I have these tiny people, who are tiny for such a short time?
Not that I think badly of Pat for going out at all. He does so much for me and the kids that he deserves a break. He's so hard on himself and takes on so much responsibilty it's crazy. He does almost all the cleaning. All the washing and folding and putting away. He is really wonderful.
This post doesn't really have a purpose. Except to show you how wonderful my life is. How I feel blessed at being able to wake up to my complete little family and that I enjoy every minute - even when I'm stressed, there's no where I'd rather be.
Friday, April 22, 2011
I started having contractions Sunday afternoon – the 17th. I got a little bit excited. I waited for Pat to get home and told him I was going down to the maternity unit and see what was going on.
They put me on the monitor and checked out my contractions. They did an internal and said 1cm. Go home and rest – you're probably in early labour.
The contractions never stopped. They were enough to wake me up, but never got strong enough to warrant me going back. Until Tuesday afternoon. They were 3 minutes apart and lasting about 50-55 seconds. Not really painful, but very distracting and uncomfortable. I called the hospital (I had been in that morning for a check up and she sent me around to maternity for monitoring because I was still having contractions and my blood pressure was up). The hospital told me to come in whenever I felt like it, but please make sure they're regular.
When I got there, they hooked me up to a machine for a bit. They did an internal and told me I was only 2cm dilated. I was soooo deflated. The lady obviously could see that and told me that while she was there she'd do a stretch and sweep for me.
And so we bunkered down for the night. I sent Pat home because it was silly that he, Mum and Maddi ALL got no sleep. Maddi slept on the lounge in the waiting room and Mum got a fold out bed brought in.
At 3am the midwife came in and told me that at about 6am they'd put me back on the monitor for my contractions. I asked her what if it hadn't changed. She said they'd send me home because there was no point keeping me there if I wasn't doing anything. I cried. I had been having contractions for almost 3 days. I didn't want to hear about being sent home.
Thankfully, that midwife went off duty and the one I had seen the previous day, Heidi, came on duty. She had told me the day before to come back in the morning and have my baby so I could be the last birth before she moved back to England.
I was still having the same contractions 3 minutes apart and about 55 seconds long. Sometimes they'd be really strong and sometimes it felt like they were petering away to nothing. I worried that the middle of the night news from the midwife just completely shut down my labour mojo. They did an internal and found 3cm dilated. So at least things were progressing, albeit very slowly.
The doctor came and visited me, told me that because I was 37 weeks and had blood pressure issues, he couldn't see any reason to keep the baby in there any longer. Told me he would break my waters and give me an hour to get things moving, if it didn't happen, he'd put my on the synto drip.
He broke my waters (after a student ob/gyn valiantly tried – she was just too gentle!) and things started REALLY picking up.
Those contractions that had seemed like the bad ones were suddenly the ones I wanted back. I had already told Heidi that I would probably want an epidural at the end and she agreed because pain + blood pressure = not too good. Mean time, I had the gas.
The contractions were thick and fast. I never shouted. I had tears in my eyes. I whimpered through a lot of them. Pat was wonderful. He sat there are held both my hands in his and looked into my eyes while I kicked my foot against the end of the bed in pain. He did it over and over again. I'm sure it can't be easy, being on the emotional receiving end of all that. But he did it for me.
I told Heidi it was time for the epidural. They checked and I was 5cm – the doctor agreed to let me have one and the anaesthetist came in. Mean time, the contractions were getting REALLY full on. Mum and Maddi were sent out of the room as they only allow one person in there while you get your epidural put in.
I was sitting on the side of the bed, my back to the anaesthetist and she put the local in. I had a massive contraction. She then put the epidural needle in. I had another MASSIVE contraction. Pat was holding my hands. I looked into his eyes and I said to Heidi "The baby is there, I can feel it, this is a pushing one!" I felt like I was sitting on her head and I arced up on my toes a little. The contraction finished and the Doctor took the needle out and tried to put the blocker in. I said "another contraction is coming and I need to push!" so Heidi told me to swing around on the bed.
From then it was a kerfuffle. Heidi saying "I can see the head!" Her yelling at Pat to "PUSH THE BUTTON!!!" (There was a million buttons.)Me groaning. Her telling me not to push. Yelling at Pat again to push the button. Me replying that I wasn't. All of a sudden, I heard a beautiful cry. I heard Heidi say "there's a baby here!" and then she was on my chest. Pat staring in shock. Heidi hadn't even had time to put her gloves on. Hadn't had time to call the other midwife. Mum didn't get to be there and I felt bad about that. But she was just so, so overjoyed it was still amazing.
Pat's face was beautiful. I loved watching the emotions play out on it. The reaction that she could see the head, the fear when he was told to push the button, the complete shock when she was there. The pure love when he said "hey baby."
IT was so wonderful. Beautiful. Magical. Very memorable. AND Heidi's last birth in Australia.
Dolores Rose Blanch, born at 1:47pm 20th April, 6lb 10oz (3020g) and 46cm long.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
I know it.
I can feel it.
I feel calm and excited and prepared.
I feel like Dexter is ready to be a big brother.
I'm ready to meet this little person who will change my life, just like her brother did.
I'm ready to learn new things.
I'm ready to laugh. And to cry. And to be immensly proud. And frustrated.
I know there will be times I'll feel lost and I know that's ok.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Still here today, a bit more achey than usual.
Had my 36 week check today - at which the Dr refused to do an internal to see how everything is going, because if I am starting to dialate, an internal would possibly kick things into gear.
Fine Mr Dr. I'll do it myself.
I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting - to walk out of the massage therapist's shop and have my waters break. I'm not THAT silly. But I was hoping I'd have more than just a few niggles. In saying that though, a few niggles is a lot more than I DID have. So who knows.
Guess all I can do is wait. I hate waiting. Never was my forte.
I did get to see her today though - the Doctor did a scan instead of the doppler. Yay =]
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Today, I must do nothing.
I'm giving myself the day off.
There are things I MIGHT do (I'm actually cooking heaps of bolognaise at the moment), but nothing I am going to force myself into doing.
Why? Because today is the last day "off" before I have my reflexology. So I'm not going to make myself run around like a headless chook.
Pat's better at cleaning any way.
I've done some washing up and I've done some vacuuming and some cleaning.
I might fold Dex's washing and put it away.
I might finish packing my bag for the hospital (I probably should, that will be pretty important soon)
I might write an abusive note to stick on the tool-up-the-road's windscreen to tell him to stop parking on the road on a corner, it's dangerous, park on the fucking grass.
But I might not. And I'm ok with that. xx
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I am wondering, would you be interested in me doing a recipe a week from My great Grandnanna's cook book?
It has some recipes in there from HER Nanna.
I'm asking, because I'm making Yorkshire Pudding at the moment.
I love the feeling that she would have made the same thing, using the same recipe book I am.
I feel like I'm cooking history.
I'm actually contemplating typing it all out and seeing if it can be published. If not that, doing a "foodie" blog where I cook something out of the book every day.
But I'm worried that would be a little too Julie and Julia.
So just for now, would you like a Great Grandnanna's recipe once a week?
I appreciate all input =]
Sunday, April 3, 2011
- Drs appt
- washing up
- Pat lunch
- cook Dex's food
It sounds a lot more fancy than it actually is. Except Centrelink. Nothing fancy about Centrelink. Or washing nappies actually.
Anyway, so we're booked in for the reflexology. How exciting. And a little daunting! Booked in for the 12th in the afternoon. Does anyone realise that's not tomorrow, but next tuesday?!?! 8 days! My house is a mess! My bassinett is still at Mum and Dad's house! 8 days is crazily close! but ANYWAY.
Apparently, I'd make a good assasin - I nearly killed Pat today because I made him wraps and I put toothpicks in them to hold them together, but didn't tell him. I think the words were "tiny little splinters of death" or something along those lines. Imagine what I coudl do if I actually tried.
I should go vacuum or something. Motivation has totally deserted me. I've done what's on my list, so my brain is obviously objecting to doing anything it didn't know my body would have to do today. But I always feel guilty if I don't do anything on day care days....