The birth of Setriakor: Day 1

Monday 12/04/2010

At roughly 6:50am I woke up in labour. 41 weeks and one day pregnant. At first I thought it was just another painful Braxton Hicks contraction causing me to need to pee. Something was different and I just didn't feel like going back to bed, so I went to the kitchen for some water and started unstacking the dishwasher. When I got a pain so bad I thought I might accidentally start dropping items on the way to the cupboard I decided to go and let Gam know that I thought I might be in labour. I woke him and let him know, but told him things were likely to take some time and therefore not to worry and not to get up. I fetched his BlackBerry from the bedroom and started recording the time and duration of the contractions. They were around 6 minutes apart.

I wasn't capable of doing much after that, and found myself spending a fair amount of time leaning on the back of a lounge chair and counting through the pains. I think this was what I was doing when Gam got up.

At some point I decided to go into the bedroom- Gam had offered to get me the beanbag to put on the bed so I could kneel comfortably and keep a leaning position. He also brought in the lounge chair for me to lean on when I tried the beanbag and said I preferred the lounge. The timing of bringing me into the bedroom was good, as someone came to the door. Gam also got a phone call from the builder doing our bathroom renovations to let him know that the people doing the shower had finally got around to sending someone to install the door that we'd been waiting weeks for. Great timing. The guy came around and installed the shower door while I laboured in the bedroom. Thankfully I didn't feel the need to be noisy, as it was weird enough having a stranger in the house while I was in labour.

When contractions reached 5 minutes apart I phoned my two Birth Centre midwife, Karen, (one of a team of two who had cared for me since about halfway through my pregnancy) and let her know something was happening. She told me to plan on coming in when the contractions were 3 minutes apart and to phone her to let her know. This was around 9am.

Gam was with me full time by this stage and had taken over recording the contractions, as I was so distracted I had pretty much stopped doing it. He fetched me water and Gatorade and coconut juice and rubbed my back. When I decided to try kneeling over the beanbag on the bed again, I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick. I had only a moment to warn Gam before puking up all the water and Gatorade I'd drunk. I think Gam managed to shove a towel in underneath (I remember being concerned that it was one of our good bath towels) and catch most of the vomit before it got on the beanbag, but we realised later some had got on the bed.

At this stage the contractions were 3-4 minutes apart, and once they were consistently 3 minutes apart, Gam phoned Karen because I didn't feel capable of talking. She asked to speak to me and kept me talking long enough to hear me go through a contraction or two. Then we headed off to the hospital. I had packed a 'hospital bag' a week or so prior that I thought contained most of what we needed, but of course it didn't and Gam did a bit of a whirlwind around the house fetching items that I'd forgotten.

I think this was around 11am, but at this stage I wasn't particularly aware of the time. I was dreading the car trip, not being able to move into a comfortable position, but once in the car I managed to count myself through a few contractions and then they dropped off in frequency- apparently this is common in labour when a woman moves from home to hospital, so it wasn't particularly unexpected. Gam managed to get me up to the Birth Centre on level 5 fairly uneventfully, where a room was prepared. Gam then had to leave to move the car from the front entrance of the RBWH Ned Hanlon Building and Karen left the room to do somethingorother... at that point I preferred her not to be around anyway, so it didn't bother me. The contractions resumed at their previous frequency fairly quickly, but they weren't as strong. It was easy enough to hang around the bathroom and hang my weight off the sturdy handrails during the contractions. I was looking forward to being in advanced enough labour to be able to use the bath.

Gam arrived back, as did Karen, and Gam helped me in the bathroom through the contractions while Karen sat in the main room, probably timing them, but I don't know. When I ventured briefly out of the bathroom- I was reluctant to walk more than a few steps out because the time in between contractions when I wasn't actually feeling any pain was almost non-existent by then- suggested I try the beanbag on the bed... or something. She then left the room. Gam was on the bed with me, rubbing my back, when I felt something strange during one contraction and quickly realised my waters had broken. I backed off the bed in a hurry as warm liquid dribbled down my legs, and stood on the cushioned mat on the floor that had some kind of absorbent covering- sheets or towels or something- placed over it. Gam and I inspected the colour of the liquid and were pondering whether the slight colouring (it was yellow, tending to a light green) meant there might be meconium in the waters, something I was dreading as it meant I'd be moved to a birth suite. Sure enough, Karen re-entered the room, confirmed that there was meconium and then gave me a vaginal exam to see how far dilated I was. That was agony- I'm not sure how it compares to the rest of labour, but I pretty much begged her to stop. I think Karen told us afterwards that this was around 1pm- to me it hardly felt like we'd been there any time at all. It's funny, I was in absolute agony and desperate for it to end, but time actually seemed to fly while I was in labour. It must have seemed a hell of a lot longer to Gam.

It was kind of disheartening to learn I was only 3-4cm dilated. We'd been told during antenatal classes that they like women to arrive around 5cm dilated, so I had figured that's roughly what I was at when contractions reached 3 minutes apart.

Even more disheartening was knowing I'd be moved to a Birth Suite and not only have my favoured natural pain relief options removed but also have to undergo constant foetal monitoring with a couple of belts strapped around my waist. Karen had suggested when she did the vaginal exam that more positions would be available to me in labour if I agreed to the scalp electrode being attached to the baby's head rather than the monitor being worn as a belt- and that also the belt was a bit less reliable in picking up the baby's activity. We'd seen the scalp hook thingy during the antenatal classes- a little wire curl that is stuck into the baby's scalp- and I was completely turned off the idea. The idea of sticking something into our baby boy's scalp and breaking his skin was no more appealing once I was in labour, so I opted for the belt. Looking at our beautiful boy now I know I would have regretted doing otherwise.

Karen suggested I have a shower before leaving my Birth Centre room and heading to the Birth Suite, confirming it would be my last opportunity to do so before labour ended. Gam helped me into the shower and hosed my back with the hot water. It felt so good and relieving of the pain that it made me feel a bit scared and upset that it wouldn't be available to me later. I prolonged the shower as much as I could, before finally conceding defeat and getting out and being handed a pair of disposable pants and a pad and a warm blanket by a nurse so I could head down the hall to the Birth Suite. It was only a short walk but I don't remember anything of it, really. [You had a contraction half-way there so I covered you up with a towel and hugged you, glaring at anyone who dared look at you funny- G].

After entering the Birth Suite, much of labour is a blur. I must've been in there for around 9 hours, but I remember looking at the clock only twice- once at around 1pm and another at around 7 or 8pm.

I remember the belts for monitoring being horribly uncomfortable and wishing I could take them off. Gam did a couple of times later in labour when I needed to go to the bathroom and I had contractions on the toilet and the pain was exacerbated by the belts.

I remember being completely unable to get comfortable and wishing the bed had a proper head-rail I could grab onto. I remember being horribly tired- I'd gone to bed at around 3am that morning and only had around 4 hours of sleep. I just wished I could have enough of a break from the pain to catch a nap. I must've sounded like a real whinger, complaining about being tired!

I remember feeling kind of misled that I was in pain the whole time- from what I had read I had thought that there was some relief from the pain in between contractions. Instead there was only completely unbearable pain and slightly more bearable pain.

I remember dreading the next contraction every time.

I remember worrying that Gam's arms would get too tired to rub my back, because it was the only thing that helped me at all during the contractions.

I remember fantasising that someone would find a reason to give me a caesarean section. I remember saying something to Gam about if I could walk I'd head off and find someone to stick a needle in my back. I remember asking for something and getting the gas, only to find that the gas didn't help me over the peak of contractions as I'd been told. It made my fingers and toes numb and made me kind of fuzzy-headed- I remember thinking maybe if I breathed enough of it I could knock myself out, but it didn't work. I don't remember making a conscious decision to abandon the gas, but I couldn't hold onto the apparatus at the peak of contractions and was sick of feeling kind of ill at the trough in between contractions, so it was abandoned nonetheless.

I remember the pain being so bad towards the end that I was making some kind of primal sobbing noise that sounded like crying but wasn't quite crying.

I remember hitting the first urge to push while the contractions were still occurring, and identifying it as transition. I remember being examined again and told not to push because I was only 7-8cm dilated. I don't remember when this was, but I not only remember being disappointed I wasn't closer to 10cm, I remember just how indescribably difficult it was to 'breathe through' the urge to push, as I was instructed, and knowing that if I did push at that stage I risked tearing. I'm not sure that that was true for me, as I didn't manage to override more than a couple of those pushing urges.

I remember being on the toilet and marvelling how those pushing urges did, as so many people on those 'baby forums' I'd been reading described, indeed feel like needing to poo. Nonetheless I was convinced that I did need to poo, and wanted to spend some time on the toilet just so I could offload it there instead of having my midwife wiping it away while I was on the bed, oblivious. I'm convinced that the latter is what actually happens, but Gam completely denies it- no doubt trying to protect my fragile sense of dignity!

I remember Gam reassuring me when I had one of those pushing urges on the toilet that he'd had a look and at the peak of the contraction had seen the baby's head.

I remember at some point bluntly telling Gam to stop saying something that he'd been saying to try and help me through the contractions. I can't remember what it was, but instead of shutting up, he thankfully switched tactics and talked me through what was happening on the monitor for my contractions, letting me know when the little graph showed a contraction was about to start peaking and when it was about to start subsiding. That was a genuine help- and apart from the constant back-rubs, the only thing that helped.

I remember really wanting more water but only being able to take small sips with a straw. I remember sipping Gatorade, and while I felt like I needed the energy, the lingering sweet taste in my mouth afterward made me want to throw up again. I managed probably only between 50-100mL throughout the entire labour.

I remember during the pushing urges on the bed, feeling first Gam then Karen wiping something away from my bum and feeling sure that it was poo. [IT WAS NOT POO!!!!!-G]

I remember how good it felt finally being 'allowed' to push. Not that I was pushing consciously- it is definitely just an urge that the body has. Once that happened, everything seemed to happen fairly fast. You might think that pushing a baby out is the most painful part of labour. I'd seen the feeling of a baby crowning described as being the 'ring of fire'. I felt the baby's head crown many times before a contraction pushed it to the point where I felt the 'ring of fire', and it really wasn't so bad. Maybe because I was expecting it to be worse or because my body made it all happen rather slowly and was prepared for the final big stretch. I was able to visualise what was happening, and felt able to plan what was going to happen next, which I think helped. I may have been making noise at this stage, but I wasn't really in pain. At one point his head was left poking out of me to the point of the eyebrows while my body prepared for another contraction. It was kind of frustrating waiting for pushing urges at that point when it seemed they had come so frequently earlier on when I wasn't allowed to give in to them. Finally one arrived and his head came out. I remember feeling something very odd 'down there', asking “what was that?” and being told that the baby was moving his head from side to side and opening his mouth like he was trying to cry- apparently that's a bit unusual! I felt Karen tilt his head to the side to help his shoulders turn and after one contraction where nothing in particular happened, waiting in vain for another before Karen and another midwife who'd arrived in the room urged me to push anyway. I was conflicted, knowing that doing so increased my risk of tearing, while at the same time knowing they would have had their reasons for telling me to push at that stage. That was really the only part of the pushing stage that hurt, and probably when I sustained the small graze that was my only adverse outcome from giving birth to him.

I felt the baby's body come out really fast- Gam told me later he came flying out. I wanted to turn around and look at him straight away but for a moment I was so exhausted I pretty much just collapsed face down onto the bed. Karen urged me to reach down so she could pass him up between my legs. Somehow I managed, with Gam's help I'm guessing.

Then I was sitting down on the bed holding our squalling baby and marvelling at how heavy he was, while the midwives did the same. Karen then told me that with a baby so large she preferred to do active management of the placenta delivery, meaning she wanted to give me a shot of syntocinon, because the size of the placenta for such a large baby meant there would be a higher risk of bleeding. I had planned on physiological management, or natural delivery, but I consented. I kind of regretted doing so at the time, but I had confidence she knew her stuff, and I certainly wasn't keen on experiencing a postpartum haemorrhage, especially since my iron levels were already somewhat low. The umbilical cord stopped pulsing quite quickly anyway, so there wasn't the concern about getting extra blood to the baby. The contractions caused by the syntocinon were really quite painful, and Karen tugged on the cord to see if the placenta was ready to come away. I quickly knew that it wasn't- I'm not sure how- and told her so. Within a minute or so I had a proper urge to push and the placenta came out. It was huge- the surface membrane had torn, probably from the pulling, but Karen reassured me it was otherwise intact. They say a normal placenta is 'dinner plate-sized'. Mine was more like the size of a roasting platter! Karen estimated it weighed at least 2kg. She asked us if we wanted to do anything with it but we weren't really interested.

I can't remember if the cord was cut before or after delivery of the placenta. Gam and I had always figured we didn't really care who cut the cord, but Karen urged Gam to do it, and he did, which I was kind of glad about at the time.

Our baby was then taken to be weighed, and it was at this time that Gam and I started bantering again over what we would name him. We hadn't quite gotten around to discussing it properly before I went into labour (no excuses really, seeing as I was 8 days post estimated-due-date!), and we had been talking about it when I was in early labour- obviously a conversation that had stopped at some point prior to resolution! As it turned out, Gam's suggestion of 'Setriakor' turned out to suit him extraordinarily well. 'Mighty', it means, in relation to one of the traditional Ewe gods or Anlo Ewe gods, I'm not sure which. There was no arguing that our strong, healthy 12lb baby was mighty enough to suit the name.

There was no immediate sense of bonding with Setri- I felt really happy and close to Gam and proud that he could hold onto our baby while I snuggled up to him. It didn't worry me at all. I breastfed Setri- Karen was fairly urgent about that, due to the blood glucose testing
policy of the hospital, whereby babies weighing over 4kg are tested at 1, 2, and 4 hours after the birth. She said if he was hypoglycaemic they might want to feed him formula or do something to bring up his blood sugars, but that if we breastfed there was a much greater chance they would come back normal. She also told us that if the first 3 tests came back normal we could refuse further tests, which of course we wanted to do- as it turned out the hospital did not try further testing.

It was only a short while after the birth that Karen informed me that because Setri had had meconium in his waters I would have to stay in hospital with him for 24 hours as per hospital policy so he could be observed. I knew about the risks of meconium in the waters, but I did not know I would have to stay in hospital after the birth. The prospect of my first night away from Gam in over 7 years definitely dampened my spirits and made me sad. I needed him! We reassured each other that it would only be a few hours overnight and then he could come in the morning and spend the day with me before Setri and I were discharged. Had I known what was to come, I would have discharged myself and Setri that night and gone home.

Karen left to go and make me some toast and hot Milo, and take care of some paperwork. She suggested I shower and also that I pee in the shower because the water would help lessen the stinging that I would feel. I found that when I stood up and walked around I felt very faint and weak, and noticed in the mirror that I looked pale. My blood loss immediately after the birth had apparently been fairly normal (I was told later it was only around 350mL), but I was surprised how hard it was to hold myself up. It was like I had no stomach or back muscles, and I felt alarmingly like my top half was toppling around as I tried to walk. Initially I was losing what seemed like a fairly large amount of blood, and Karen gave me a packet of maternity pads and a couple of pairs of disposable underpants to wear, as I hadn't come prepared to stay overnight. She also gave me a couple of disposable nappies in 'Newborn' size... they were really a bit small for Setri, but we'd only brought 2 nappies with us- again, assuming we'd only remaining at the hospital for a maximum of 6 hours after the birth.
Because I had managed to consume only a very small amount of water and Gatorade over the course of the entire day I'd been in labour, Gam fed me some water and we shared the rest of the Gatorade. I drank a couple of cups of water, figuring I was quite dehydrated, but vomited them up almost immediately.

The shower was really nice, I sat on a shower chair, and I did manage to pee. It stung a little, but not too bad. Karen told me it was important to keep my bladder empty because having a full bladder would prevent the uterus from contracting back to its normal size. I was relieved to note I still had full control of my pelvic floor muscles, although everything felt a bit swollen and sore down there. Karen provided me with a special little icepack to put in my pants- that really helped.

Afterwards I got dressed and tried to steal bites of cold toast while breastfeeding Setri. My Milo had also cooled down enough to drink, and I really enjoyed that Milo! A nurse from the ward came to get me while I was cramming in the last of the cold toast and washing it down with water. I was fetched up to the ward in a wheelchair. Gam was going to carry Setri, and I wanted him to, but we were told that babies had to be carried up to the ward by their mothers. I don't understand that and I think it's stupid, especially since they were already forcing us to spend a night apart and separating Gam from his newborn child. But we didn't argue, and I was wheeled up to the ward while Gam carried my bags. It was a few minutes after midnight.

Despite having at some stage packed a couple of jumpsuits for Setri in my hospital bag, these had somehow been left behind at home in the chaos prior to leaving. We asked the midwife on duty if Gam could go home and bring Setri some clothes. We were given the impression he would have to bring them to the ward reception and leave without seeing us again, so we hugged and kissed and said goodbye to one another. Gam said “I love you” to me, and “I love you too” to Setri. That made me really happy. I wasn't quite ready to say “I love you” to Setri, even though I knew I would love him soon enough... but it made me feel really good that Gam could say it.

After Gam left I cried a little.

Setriakor

Setriakor (Setri) arrived on April 12 shortly after 9pm, weighing 12lb/5.44kg. 41 weeks and 1 day gestation. I didn't need to be induced! We (I'm including Gam- he worked bloody hard and was the only reason I made it through!) had an all natural labour (excluding a futile attempt on the gas) and birth and none of the horrid after-effects you might imagine with such a large baby- no tearing!

Unfortunately a 1-night observation stay in hospital turned into a 5 night ordeal as there were some determined attempts to find something wrong with Setri. We're lucky we got out when we did, but there's a short novel in store and the story is more appropriately told in full. Suffice it for now to say he's absolutely fine and just a beautiful little guy... we're all so happy to be home together :)

Why it would have been a good idea to give 42 weeks as our 'due date'

Well, today's antenatal appointment at the Birth Centre left me feeling fairly good, until a phonecall from my Mum necessitated my having to be a bit of a bitch (not to my lovely mum) and left me feeling rather more stressed than even prior to my antenatal appointment.

The good news from my appointment was that they don't rule me out of Birth Centre care until I'm 14 days overdue, which leaves Gam Jr 9 days to arrive naturally. It would be recommended (and I would accept) that I have foetal monitoring after 10 days, where they do a CTG for half an hour to make sure his heart rate is ok, and they would also offer a 'stretch and sweep'. I'm really not keen for it to come to that, but a 'stretch and sweep/membrane sweep' would be my last chance at a Birth Centre birth, as all medical inductions and post-42-week births have to take place in the 'Birth Suites' (labour wards).

There is a huge difference between the Birth Centre and the 'Birth Suites' at the Royal Brisbane and Women's Hospital (RBWH). The latter is your typical hospital set-up, with all sorts of nasty medical-looking things in a panel at the wall at the head of the (single) bed. There are even stirrups (!) at the foot of the bed. The room is small and not conducive to moving around much which is often necessary for a comfortable labour, and they don't provide anything much in the way of devices that can be used by a woman in labour to find a comfortable position in which to birth her baby. It's pretty much a bed or nothing.

There is a decent sized bathroom with a lovely big bath in each 'Birth Suite', but guess what? No-one is allowed to use those baths. I don't mean for a water birth, I mean for any purpose whatsoever, whether it be bathing or pain relief or birthing. No-one is allowed in the bath. The hospital must have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe even millions (I'd love to see a figure) upgrading those bathrooms. But the dickheads who were designing the bathrooms didn't bother to consult with (or listen to) midwives or nurses. So they put the baths in a corner, meaning there is only one-sided access to the bath. Meaning that if someone faints in there, there is no safe way for 2 people to get them out. Meaning that use of the baths is completely prohibited and they just get to sit there until the Birth Suites get refurbished again until, say, 25-30 years down the track, or whenever Queensland Health can be bothered to stump up the cash. Apparently midwives suggested during the design process that the baths didn't need to be in a 'bathroom'. 'Nonsense!' was the response. It was a bath- people needed their privacy in a bath! So they erected walls and made accessing the bath an OH&S hazard, and now no-one can use them. Brilliant job, guys. I don't know why that particularly egregious screw-up and waste of taxpayers' money didn't make the media- it can't have been particularly long ago.

By contrast, the Birth Centre rooms are spacious, well laid-out and the bath is in the main part of the room, not in the bathroom. There are a host of factors that can rule a person out from having a water birth (large baby, posterior baby, morphine injection), but at least the bath is an option for pain relief for most people and there are a lot of alternative devices such as birthing balls, bean bags etc. that a woman can use to get comfortable during her labour. There is also a double bed and a small fridge for snacks or drinks.

So when my Mum expressed something approaching horror and outrage that I wasn't about to be induced right away or at the very least right on 10 days, I pointed out that having an induced birth meant I would be ruled out of Birth Centre care and have to labour in one of those horrid hospital 'Birth Suites. She just didn't get it. I was born in a regular labour ward, she pointed out, and I would be "in just as much pain no matter where" I laboured. I don't think that's true, and I think there's good evidence to the contrary- which I told her but didn't bother to explain too much. After all, she spent much of her labour thinking she was going to die from the pain, and I don't intend to have one like that!

All these concerns- which I believe should be my primary concerns right now, in addition to getting the house in order- faded into the background when she told me that my Aunt and Uncle, who are supposed to babysit my Grandma while Mum and Dad visit us, are travelling to Brisbane for the ANZAC day long weekend to stay with my cousin Rach and her now-husband Chris. With the intention of gawping at our baby, giving us well-intentioned but stupid advice and dropping lots of Jesus-y hints about having GamJr christened, no doubt. So if GamJr were to be induced and arrive on the 18th and Mum & Dad were to drive up 3 days later and stay for 2 nights, they would have to bring Grandma because my Aunt and Uncle wouldn't/wouldn't be able to take her. They could stay in a hotel with Grandma, Mum offered. My response was pretty close to "Oh hell no!". I may even have used those words- I can't remember. But I was extremely strident about not wanting to see Grandma so soon because I absolutely do. not. want. to be dealing with the kind of shit I had to put up with while on the phone to her the other day. Not even a little tiny bit, not even a hint of it. I downright refuse to deal with that so soon after the arrival of our baby. The very idea of her being around is sending my blood pressure through the roof, I'm sure. I told Mum if it came to that I would rather her and Dad came up earlier than 3 days so they could leave Grandma with Auntie Anne and Uncle James. I would absolutely rather have them around immediately after the birth than Grandma a few days after the birth.

I also told Mum that we were not going to accept visits from anyone other than her and Dad for one full week after the birth and it didn't matter whether Auntie Anne intended to visit us over the ANZAC Day long weekend or not, we weren't taking visitors. Naturally, I hope that GamJr arrives earlier than 42 weeks and spares us having to make this request knowing it will probably offend my Aunt and Uncle, but if that's the way things happen, so be it.  I could tell Mum really didn't like the sound of that... However, our friends, who aren't pushy evangelical types, are more than willing to grant us that courtesy. Hell, they *asked* when we would like to receive visitors- I believe that's what's referred to as good manners- whereas it seems my Aunt has just presumed she will drop in on us without making any inquiry as to whether we'd *like* to be receiving a visit or not. I discussed wanting some time to ourselves after the birth with their daughter, my cousin Rachelle, a few weeks ago, and she was very understanding too. So if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for my Aunt and Uncle, even if it means they don't get to see GamJr at a time that's convenient for them.

So we have some juggling to do and some people to offend if Junior decides to stay put for a good long time, in addition to all the potential medical decisions that going over 42 weeks entails... just great. As selfish as it sounds, I would really like to be focusing on us right now, and the only people even slightly entitled to cause us stress, as far as I'm concerned, are our parents!

Life at 40 weeks and 4 days...

40 weeks and 4 days today, so 4 days 'overdue'. The average for women to go into labour with their first pregnancy is 5 days over (something like 75% of women go over their 'estimated due date', which to me suggests that the estimates are kind of... well, wrong). I have my 40w appointment tomorrow... I'm really hoping something happens before I have to be sent for a 'stretch & sweep' (basically where they stretch the cervix a little and irritate/stimulate the amniotic membrane)... tomorrow they'll probably make an appointment for me for a S&S when I'm 10 days over.

Mum phoned me again tonight, I had told her my 40w appointment was today, not tomorrow... she also wanted to apologise for the religious rant I endured when I phoned Grandma yesterday... I had to phone her to thank her for the birthday cheque she'd finally got around to sending me, but it quickly turned into a repetitive ramble on how I must put Jr 'in the hands of Jesus', and especially to rush him to a priest if he gets sick so he doesn't go to hell... thankfully Mum finds the whole idea of christenings as pointless as I do, and the idea of innocent babies going to hell just as offensive. Gam suspects Auntie Anne saw the christening comment on FB and dobbed us in to Grandma... whatever the case, I don't plan on putting up with any more of that crap. I endured it for 16 minutes, leaving the phone on the beanbag in front of me and playing Fallout 3 while Grandma raved and ranted, picking up every minute or two to make sure that she wasn't waiting for me to say something (which of course she wasn't). Mum told me that Grandma was insisting that she had to come up to Brisbane to save our souls... Mum told her No. Way. Poor Mum has been enduring the same rants too.

It was just as well Mum phoned, as she'd somehow gotten a bit overexcited and forgotten that she'd agreed to give us 3 days at home before visiting. We kind of wanted a week on our own but it felt a bit mean when she was clearly so excited, so Gam and I agreed a month or two ago to ask her for 3 days. It was only when she repeatedly mentioned that Dad was concerned that they were burdening us by rushing up immediately that I thought I'd better check whether 'immediately' didn't mean 3 days (because I had only just spoken to Dad about it the other day I thought she couldn't possibly mean 'immediately') and she really did mean 'immediately'.

She sounded so disappointed when I reminded her (again) that we wanted 3 days, it was like I'd only just brought it up.... I think she had genuinely managed to forget! She kept saying that she could be there to give GamJr cuddles and comfort him at night because Gam and I would both be *so* tired etc etc... Ohhh she's the keenest grandma-to-be in the world... telling her we wanted 3 days broke my heart a little bit, I felt so guilty! I really think we'll need it though... I just want to spend that first 3 days getting used to (or trying to get used to) breastfeeding and recovering and spending time with Gam. I love my mum so much and I know she regrets that we're not close-close... a lot of people have their mothers with them during labour and delivery, but I can't even imagine having anyone but Gam. I don't even really want a midwife there, but mine seem like non-interfering types so their presence won't really bother me. Not that I think my mum would interfere so much, but I feel it's a bit more intimacy than I would like... if that makes sense.

Dad is still a bit heartbroken over Winston the cockatiel... he unthinkingly stepped out the back door to go to the shed, forgetting Winston was on his shoulder... Mum said "he's not getting over it", but I reminded her it had only been a few days- 3 days! I wouldn't be over it yet either. I really empathise with the sense of responsibility that Dad feels... and Winston had bonded so strongly to Dad :( Mum misses him too, they were like a little family... she was complaining yesterday that it's just too quiet without him! She's very pessimistic about his chances in the wild.

I think she has been avoiding feeling too bad about it because she's been focusing on a certain grandchild who isn't arriving fast enough for her liking... she was practically insisting that I should be induced on Monday! She says it's because she's worried about how big Jr is getting, but secretly I think she's just in a hurry for him to arrive! I *really* don't want to be induced... I think if it's a medical induction I'm required to have foetal monitoring and I definitely won't get a water birth and might not even be allowed to give birth in the Birth Centre. I dread having to give birth in one of those horrid hospital rooms.

Meanwhile, house improvements roll on and the place is unfortunately still half construction zone. Gam has filled in the massive hole in the wall left by the air-con unit we (he) removed and done a fine plastering job, as well as fixed the areas of plaster uncovered when he removed that dodgy suspended ceiling. Next on his DIY list is to repair the hole left by the old chimney (including sourcing some old-style cornice, which is going to be the toughest part) and restoring the old ceiling in the living room.

The bathroom still isn't finished, but yesterday and today we had the house rewired. It was filled with 1950's black rubber cabling (a major cause of house fires), which we had to have the roof off to remove and replace (because we have a flat roof with no void). Thankfully we have a nice electrician living a street away from us (a female sparkie- pretty rare, I think!) and we got back the same roofing guy who removed our chimney and replaced the roof sheets for us a couple of months back. He charged us so little this time for 2 full days' work ($550 inc. GST) that we felt bad and actually asked if we could give him another $50... imagine that- a tradie who charges so little that you feel guilty accepting his invoice! When my mum asked how much it cost to have the roof lifted even she said it was a good price- a surefire sign he was working too cheaply if there ever was one!. He's a really nice old guy, obviously charging old-school prices...

Needless to say, it feels good to be no longer at risk from dodgy illegal DIY and 55 year old perished black cable! Of course now I have to vacuum loads of little bits of wire and cable and plaster dust and crap from the floor... all the renovation work, combined with my general crippled-ness (I now have a strangely sore foot, on top of the hip pain...), has meant that just keeping the place clean has been a Sisyphean task, let alone any of the type of detailed cleaning I'd love to get done... that's just not happening. I feel stupid wishing I'd go into labour before I get everything done that I want to get done, because I know all this cleaning stuff will bother me if I don't get it done, but having a good (if not 'nice'!), intervention-free birth is much more important to me than cleaning... which will continue to need to be done in the future regardless of the level of spick and span the house reaches now.

Meanwhile, Gam has been cooking me 5-star meals and generally making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Still haven't gotten around to taking any 40-week photos, and to be honest I hope not to have to! I'm crossing everything except my legs in the hope this baby arrives soon...

HomeFresh Organics- two thumbs up!

I was going to give these guys a plug anyway, but after their immaculate customer service response to a minor screw-up just before Easter I think they're deserving of some full-on grovelling worship- I'm that impressed!


A few weeks ago Gam and I decided to start having a box of organic fruit and vegetables delivered on a weekly basis. We probably already bought around 30% of our groceries organic anyway, but felt we should be buying a much higher proportion of organic food given the Federal government's ongoing refusal to ban certain pesticides associated with health defects and banned overseas. Also the absence of any moves to make mandatory the provision of information to consumers about the chemicals used in the production of the fresh produce they're buying. In addition, the Rocklea markets have become insanely crowded to the point where it's difficult to get around without being shunted by some po-faced middle-aged bogan, and we hate giving any more money than necessary to the major supermarkets (our new 'local' being Woolworths).

So I investigated the online options for organic fruit and vegie delivery, and while there were quite a few I decided that HomeFresh Organics looked like the best- I think it was the fact that they also sold and delivered Barambah Organics milk that really sealed the deal, as that meant we would save ourselves a 14km round trip to Mrs Flannery's at Woolloongabba to buy milk every week (we used to buy some organic fruit and vegetables at the Taringa Mrs Flannery's but the prices were often very high). Not only that, the milk was very slightly cheaper through HomeFresh Organics anyway! We can make an extra order of groceries, including milk and a limited selection of free range, organic meats from The Meat-ting Place, a butcher in Paddington that we'd recently started going to that necessitated a 24km round trip. The extras are delivered at no cost alongside the 'weekly set box' of fruit and vegetables, so it suited us extraordinarily well.

We also decided that having a set (with alterations allowed) delivery of seasonal fruit and vegies would not only help us budget but avoid the waste that was associated with our admittedly impulsive decisions on what to cook for dinner- a lot of the time we would decide during the day what we were going to cook and then go out and buy whatever we needed, which resulted in more vegetables winding up in the compost than we were comfortable with. Doing it this way meant we'd need to plan in advance.

Not that that was a problem with fruit- our main problem with fruit was me ploughing my way through vast quantities of the stuff and making a food budget next to impossible! So my one concession in adopting this weekly set box idea is me having to ration my fruit intake- though there's still far more than the recommended 2 serves a day given that Gam simply doesn't eat fruit. I rationalised my 'deprivation' on the basis that I previously must have being consuming vast quantities of god-knows-what agri-chemicals, given the amount of fruit I eat, and in fact wished I'd looked into this option sooner because I've been consuming predominantly non-organic fruit and vegetables throughout my entire pregnancy.


Anyway, we signed up, made the desired alterations to our 'weekly set box' online, planned what we would cook that week, ordered meat and milk and eggs from the 'General Store' section of the HomeFresh Organics website, and sat back and waited. Our first set-box delivery arrived without a hitch- the delivery guy called at the front door to see if anyone was home, dropped off our boxes and that was that. We were impressed with the quality of the fruit and vegetables (the cruddy condition of a lot of organic fruit & vegies sold retail mean our expectations were not particularly high, but the produce was largely of a standard as if we'd hand-picked it off the shelves ourselves), and the fact that the meat, milk and eggs were packed with ice in their (reused, returnable) styrofoam  containers, meaning everything was perfectly fresh. Great work.


The next week we ordered again, however there was a bit of a hiccup in the service- the delivery guy (probably a different one, I'm guessing) didn't bother to call at the front door and instead pretty much snuck 'round to the back door and left the boxes there- I only spied him out the window as he was leaving! This was in spite of the delivery instructions stating "Right at the front door, please!"- and they tape the delivery instructions to the top of the box, so it's not as if the driver wasn't informed. It was only really a problem because I was (and still am at the time of writing, unfortunately!) so heavily pregnant and incapable of lifting the boxes myself, meaning I had to unpack them outside and bring the individual items inside. Well, that and the fact that the driver hadn't paid attention to polite instruction. So I sent an email of mild complaint and received an apologetic response and a promise to emphasise to their driver the importance of following the delivery instructions.


Unfortunately, the next week it wasn't their driver who delivered the groceries. Being the week before Easter, they needed to get all deliveries out by Thursday (ours was normally on a Friday). So they hired a whole bunch of extra couriers to get the job done.


On Thursday, I awaited our delivery but it didn't arrive. At one point during the day I thought I heard a knock and went to investigate. I saw a FastWay courier's van parked down the bottom of our driveway/our neighbour's driveway (which are very close together). There was a young guy inside doing some kind of paperwork inside for a minute, then the van took off. Our neighbours have an online business and have daily visits from couriers- in fact one of them is a courier, so I figured it must have been for them.


On Thursday evening, around 7pm, I figured the delivery was probably not going to arrive, so I sent an email asking whether we could expect it the next day.


On Friday morning around 9am we received a phone call from a guy I took to be the owner of the business. He said all deliveries should have taken place on Thursday but perhaps it was a stuff-up on the part of the courier. He'd just popped into the office prior to taking off with his family on their Easter holiday. He apologised and said he could bring milk and eggs but there was no way he could get the meat we'd ordered, but offered the option of some organic mince or free range pork sausages that they had on hand at no cost. He also asked whether we usually received a medium or a large weekly set-box and whether we'd made any modifications to the fruit and vegie order. I told him we usually ordered a medium box and had made modifications but just the standard set-box was fine. He told me they would drive over and deliver it that very morning and that we'd be reimbursed for the meat items that we'd ordered but he did not have on hand that morning.



For some reason, after his phone call I had the impulse to go around the side of the house and take a look to see if for some reason the groceries had been delivered there. They had. Stacked against the side of the house, not visible from any of the doors or windows, and sitting there since god-knows-when.


On the box was a FastWay courier sticker! The girls in the office had changed the delivery instructions from "Right at the front door, please!" to an even more strident "MUST BE DELIVERED TO THE FRONT DOOR". In all caps. No mistaking that, you'd think.



I tried phoning HomeFresh Organics to let them know (even though we weren't very hopeful about the state or safety of the meat and milk in the styrofoam box) but only got through to an answering machine.


A few minutes later, the guy I'd spoken to on the phone was at our door, apologising profusely for the stuff-up- only I had to apologise too because we'd just found our order had in fact been delivered... albeit to a completely stupid place and not to the front door- entirely the FastWay courier's fault. Anyway, the guy said that with their packing the meat and milk were probably fine but noting how pregnant I was said that I'd probably want to be safe rather than sorry, so he'd leave the extra meat & milk for me. He then asked whether we'd like the fruit and vegie box they'd packed for us anyway, as he and his family were heading straight off from rectifying a number of delivery screw-ups to their planned camping holiday over Easter. I said if it was only going to be thrown out then we'd happily take it, and wished him a happy holiday.


It wasn't just a standard medium-size fruit and vegie box they'd packed, however. It seems they'd covered all the possible fruit and vegetables I might have ordered and then some (four avocados! A luxury!). They'd doubled up on quite a few items, too. On top of that, the meat and milk in the previous day's mis-delivered grocery box still had enough ice to keep everything safely cold, meaning we had slightly more meat and twice as much milk as we'd paid for. We were so roundly overcompensated in the end that I actually felt terribly guilty!


Even with my enormous pregnant-woman appetite (or is that enormous-pregnant-woman appetite?) we'd really wound up with more groceries than we could handle, so we called a couple of friends who live 10-15 minutes away and asked whether they'd like some organic fruit and vegies and milk. We made sure to give HomeFresh Organics a plug for their customer service, as well as the whole concept of home-delivered fruit and vegetables... which we were and are still enamoured of in spite of courier screw-ups!

Anyway, there you go. HomeFresh Organics: a nice small business with an easy-to-navigate website conveniently delivering well-priced, good quality organic fruit and vegetables and a limited range of groceries including ethically-produced meat, organic milk and bread (including Brumbies bread and Sol Breads organic bread). Even their regular couriers might leave a little to be desired, but the customer service is flawless. And you may, like us, save money in petrol having your groceries delivered... a company definitely deserving of a VTAY Official Endorsement :)



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HomeFresh Organics deliver to Brisbane and surrounding areas including Gold Coast, Sunshine Coast, Ipswich and Toowoomba

40 weeks

Here we go with another pregnancy update, because it's my 'due date' (i.e. estimated due date) and there's still no sign of any action.  I would swear at times Junior has been trying to dig his way out, but as far as my body helping him along, nothing.

Actually that's not strictly true. Since precisely 39 weeks I've been having loads more braxton hicks contractions- stronger and more uncomfortable than before as well as more frequent. I've also (TMI, sure, but a fact of life) gone from being on the verge of being constipated and needing to constantly manage my fibre intake to needing to go to the toilet at least twice a day and definitely not needing to manage my fibre intake. To tell the truth, the latter is quite a relief. Supposedly it's the effects of prostaglandin on the bowel (similar to what can happen around the time of a woman's period), but I was under the impression that this effect appeared right before labour. Wrong, it seems, as it's been like this for a week.

The absence of anything resembling labour hasn't stopped my overexcited mother from calling every single day for the last week or so to see if anything has happened, mind. I feel almost cruel asking my parents to give us 3 days at home (couldn't bring myself to ask for any longer) after Junior's arrival to settle in, because I know Mum would rather be here now. Or yesterday, even!

These photos were actually taken almost 2 weeks ago, just after I hit the 38 week mark. Right on 38 weeks I developed belly stretchmarks... I'm only a little bit bitter! I could kind of tell they were coming, as my belly felt horribly itchy for nearly a week before they appeared. After they appeared, there were little red itchy bumps in the stretchmarks- a condition called PUPPP that is apparently more common in women having boys. It's nothing serious, but it's very annoying. Anyway, as much as I was hoping not to get stretchmarks (first at all, then at least nowhere obvious), it seems I was not so lucky. And I decided not to spare anyone the full horror- most women get them, even if they are airbrushed out for Vanity Fair and pregnancy magazine covers. I am vain enough to hope that they fade quickly, but hopefully not vain enough to be devastated if they stick around. My stomach is going to be quite a sight in the few weeks or months after it's emptied of this purportedly large baby anyhow, I imagine. I've never had a squishy stomach in my life, but after so much stretching and more than a little weight gain (I'm now 80kg), I'm under no illusions that it's going to snap right back to what it was pre-pregnancy.

You can see how tight the skin is across the front of my belly around the (bizarrely discoloured) bellybutton- it looks pretty much like there's no blood flow there! That's actually a thinner area of skin that used to be around the size of a 10c piece and is now blown up to the proportions of a saucer- and seriously reached its limit! I honestly feel at times like I'm about to split open...

My hips are still causing me agony, particularly at night- that's probably the main thing making me long to be pregnant no longer. After a few precious days of feeling relatively normal I also went through another couple of weeks of being horrendously tired- probably partly due to low iron levels, which it turned out had gotten lower since being tested at the beginning of pregnancy (they were borderline low then). I successfully fought off a cold or two, and at the 38 week blood test my iron levels had ticked up slightly- I'd started taking a liquid supplement with chelated iron instead of the godawful constipation-inducing tablets I was on previously. If my haemoglobin levels aren't at least at 100 by the time I go into labour (they were 96 at last count, I think) I have to have a cannula fitted for quick access in case of haemorrhage. Other than that it won't affect my treatment, thankfully. I've had slightly more energy in the last couple of days, but still need at least one nap a day. That probably has something to do with the poor quality of sleep I've been experiencing at night rather than a need for extra sleep on top of the standard 8 hours. After having it relatively good with regard to nightly toilet trips (making 2 instead of the pre-pregnancy 1, while drinking a cup plus an entire drink bottle full of water), I now have to make at least 4, as well as many more trips during the day. Probably due to Jr's head engaging in my pelvis and squishing my bladder, I guess.

We were told at 36 weeks that Jr's positioning in my pelvis was not optimal- he was presenting occiput posterior instead of the desired occiput anterior- and that I should spend more time practising optimal foetal positioning, namely any way of spending larger amounts of time on all fours so his back would swing down and face my belly instead of my back. The obvious solution was to play lots and lots of Fallout 3 on the Xbox 360 while lying over a beanbag- and it was working! Sadly, yesterday the 360 packed it in, experiencing the Red Ring of Death for the second time in its 2-and-a-half year life. I can't remember how much the warranty was extended the last time we sent it off to be fixed, or indeed when it happened. I'm hoping perhaps I have some paperwork on file or something, so it at least doesn't cost us anything, however it's such bad timing that it's quite infuriating! Especially since the fix last time was supposed to make the Red Ring of Death less likely to happen again. We do love our Xbox, however, so it's not like I can stamp my foot and say we're never getting one again... if anything I think Gam's probably hoping it's out of warranty so he can upgrade to the 'Elite' model!

Anyway, looks like I'll have to start reading all the Maxx Barry novels that Gam bought on Amazon a few weeks back if I'm to find any way of entertaining myself while lying on my stomach on a beanbag, as TV is pure shite. With the exception of Costa and Maeve on Thursday nights on SBS, of course. We always wind up watching Heston's Feasts afterwards, but Heston Blumenthal is so smug and nowhere near as clever as he believes himself to be that I inevitably wind up more annoyed than awed.

I'm not sure if I'm any bigger now I've hit 40 weeks, but I suppose I'll take some more photos soon if Jr doesn't hurry up and arrive.

We had what was probably an inevitable argument with Gam's father a couple of days ago on the topic of circumcision and christening. We're expecting to cop it from both sides of the family (my Grandma in particular)  for deciding not to have Jr christened. We figure if he wants to be religious when he's older he is perfectly free to choose his own crazy moon god religion. Or not. We may be disappointed, but it's his choice to make. Gam's father is so desperate that we have it done that he said he didn't care whether it was Anglican or Catholic (I'm not sure my Grandma would go so far, given her theories on The Great Roman Catholic Conspiracy to Steal Away Young People) To be honest it's hard to see how anyone who doesn't subscribe to the (frankly abhorrent) 'unbaptised babies go to hell' school of thought (my Aunt does, incredibly) could really think christening is so essential. The kid has no idea what's going on, after all, and no christian religion will turn him away when he's older based on the fact that he's unbaptised, so the reason we're being asked to do it is still unclear to us!

As for the circumcision thing, that's culturally important to Gam's father. However, as important as culture is, objective medical evidence and a child's right not to have perfectly functioning bits chopped off them without their consent is more important to us. Not to mention the very small but horrific risk of something going wrong during or after the procedure and leaving our baby with lifelong complications. That would be just too awful to contemplate, and the guilt unimaginable. So... Not happening. Gam's father has said that as soon as Jr comes to visit in Botswana or Ghana he'll take him away himself to be forcibly baptised (a la Ned Flanders and the Simpsons children) and snipped, but it's hard to take that seriously. More likely we'll just be grumbled at for the rest of our lives for not having it done. Daddy ended the conversation by saying sadly "You know, he won't be able to carry my coffin!". Gam told me to tell him that no-one would be checking down Jr's pants before such events take place, but there was no placating Daddy. Lord knows how many times we'll have to have that particular conversation

So, it looks like GamJr will not be making an Easter arrival as predicted. I can always hope for tomorrow, then Gam won't have to go back to work! Currently he is still handymanning around the house, having decided to take on the job of restoring our living room ceiling... so that combined with our not-quite-finished bathroom means unfortunately the house is still a construction zone... psychologically difficult on a 40-weeks-pregnant woman with nesting instincts (which is hard to explain and make it sound rational, but Gam is very tolerant!). Speaking of bathrooms, it is looking damn good, is mostly functional (missing only a shower screen door, towel rails, toilet holder and soap dish) and we love spending time in there... it's gorgeous and not a bit cruddy. Unfortunately it has now taken around 10 weeks instead of the projected 3. Hmm! At least we got to have a proper shower for the first time in our own home after 4-5 weeks... nightly bathing at the kitchen sink was wearing a bit thin, to say the least. Photos to come, of course.