Ok, so I am in the Birth Centre in the middle of the night, naked and in the throes of contractions.  What followed next was 12 hours, that are all mottled and shapeless in my mind.

The room was really dark, just one dim lamp (i think) and looking back, I felt stuck this perpetual darkness, with only each contraction... the rise and peak of pain, often coupled with yells and at one point even screams, the subsiding... the relief, and the stillness in between when all I wanted and towards the end needed to do was rest.

So anyway... we start labouring.  Caleb gets out our special massage oil (meant to make contractions stronger - Clary Sage) and I lie down on a mat on the floor and he starts rubbing... it surprisingly doesn't feel as good as I imagined it would.  At this point my midwife is just a quiet feature in the corner of the room.. she is seated at a desk writing.  At some point she does an internal and I am already 6 centimetres dilated... I remember thinking 'this shouldn't take too much longer at all'.  My midwife mutters some comment about the position of the baby, she says something along the lines of ' I thought so... and then you have alot of work to do'.  I ask her what is wrong, she says everything is fine.. and leaves it at that... but I have a sense something is not right.

The position that feels the best for me is kneeling, leaning over the edge of the bed.  It is as if it takes the pressure off somehow.  The contractions aren't in my back at all... they are right down low in the front.  They hurt intensly but they are bearable as it means they are bringing my baby down and out.  Glenda (midwife) starts actively directing me.  It feels like she is making me change positions every 10 minutes.  I have to stomp.. she makes me march.. she wants me to help the baby drop.. I have to lift my legs high.  The tub is running in the background...  Eventually it is full.. I go to hop in.. it is so hot.  Too hot,  I hate the heat.  Glenda checks the temp and decides it is too hot.. she adds some cold.

She tells me to float across the surface of the water, with my arms holding onto a bar on the side of the tub, she tells me to bend and kick my legs in this position, floating.  This is ridiculous.. I attempt it and despise it at the same time.  In the hot water floating without my feet grounded the contractions seem to rip right through me.. one hits me while I am attempting this ridiculous position and I writhe around in shock and pain.  I am no longer holding the bar, my head dips under the water.  I hate this.  I yell out, 'no no no no' as if protesting will make it stop, make me safe.

Caleb and Glenda are on the outside of the tub looking in, she is giving me directions, I wish she would leave me alone.. I want to get out.  She leaves the room and I plead with Caleb that I need help, that it is too much.  Apparently he leaves the room to talk with Glenda, I don't notice.

When she comes back in she has a tank of gas and air...I am going to use it to help me through.  I remember thinking, even if the it does nothing at least it is something to concentrate on, a placebo, that will help.

She makes me go to the doorway and grasp the top of it with my hands, lifting my knees up towards my ears one by one, trying to stomp the baby down.  This is ridiculous.  I am hanging on, in pain, stomping.

She suggests more stomping round the room.  She gives me the mouthpiece to the gas and air, tells me how and when to use it.  For the first contraction it is too high and I am left reeling, wobbling down, crooked and lazy.  She adjusts the gas.. from then on.. it does nothing (that I am aware of) but it is something to concentrate on.

I march between contractions rhythmically.  Left, right.  When one begins I suck in, march two three four, and blow out two three four, in two three four, out two three four, the contractions peak and I yell, my head is back and Caleb later tells me, in his lack of sleep delirious mind I look like a World Music singer, naked, wild, grasping onto a mic stand (the gas and air) yelling out tribal tunes rhythmically... how embarrasing.

This goes on and on and on.  I think when the hell is it going to stop?  Shouldn't we be there yet?  I start checking the time.  Hours pass.  Stomp stomp., count count, breathe, blow in and out, yell and sometimes scream.

Glenda decides to check me again.  I lie down on the mat feeling sorry for myself.  She checks, I am fulling dilated.  Why don't I feel like pushing if this the case?  She says the baby is on the spines, still not low enough, she says they are posterior.  I ask her when I can push... she says do u feel like it?  I say no, not really.

We continue to work on turning the baby.  I want to just recline but am not allowed, it wouldn't help.  After all, I chose an active birth.  Glenda gives me directions, I obey.  Anything to get the baby out.  At one point I roll my eyes at Caleb.. just turning is becoming as hard as scaling a slippery mountain.  I am exhausted.  I want to sleep. 

At one point Glenda allows me to lie on the bed, on my side in between contractions.  I relish it.  In between each one I sink into unabandoned bliss.  I am more tired than I have ever been in my life.  When a new contraction starts to rise I force myself off the bed, grab the gas stand and start my stomp, count, blow, breath and yell routine.  I am working hard.  It is doable.  The baby is turning... but now and then he turns back and the contraction feels bad, wrong, like bone clashing against bone, and again I yell, 'no no no no'.  I work to turn him again.

Then Glenda suggests I try pushing.  I am squatting before Caleb, he supports me.  I push, nothing moves, but suddenly I burst my waters and out comes warm, milky fluid.  It splashes on Caleb and he gets a fright.  I am just so relieved things are progressing.  I stand pushing the water out, willing the baby to come with it.  No baby.

Glenda gets a torch and a mirror.  'This is the part where the baby starts to appear',  I tell myself - hence the mirror.  But inspite of pushing and enduring wave after wave of contraction - still no baby.  I can see daylight creeping in through the corners of the blinds.  It is about 9am.

I thought once u battled through transition it wld be quickly over but baby has made no appearance.  I am exhausted.  All I want is sleep.  Contractions come and go, I work through them with what little energy I have left.  I am swallowed up in darkness.  I let them slow down, they are 20 minutes apart.

Glenda leaves the room, when she comes back she says I have been fully dilated for many hours now.  She says I probably need some fluid.  Wld I agree with going next door to get an iv and replenish my fluids?  It might be enough to help bring the baby on, but if not she suggests some syntocin to make the contractions closer together.

I say no, I fight it, I do NOT want to be overwhelmed with violent contractions again.  She explains how the contractions are needed to help the baby out and I relent, after making sure Caleb and I will still be allowed to come back to the Birth Centre, I do NOT want to end up on the hospital ward.

I put a t-shirt on and cover my bottom half with a towel, we walk next door, it is literally 1 door away.  I sit and get the iv in and wait...

Finally... my computer is fixed and I can get on the internet!

I have missed blogging and keeping up to date with everyone else's blogs.

So how do I wrap up July?

... Sage was 7 weeks yesterday.  He was weighed last week and is in the 75th percentile at 5.5 kilos and 59cms.  He is soo chubby and playful at present.  He smiles, baby talks, reaches,  and lifts his head when on his tum.

His hair is starting to grow back at the front where he lost it.  His baby pimples are nearly all gone... they seem to pop back momentarily when he gets over heated.  He is wearing 000 suits - though his waist band is 00.. fat tummy!  It is hard to find socks that fit as his legs are chunky and the elastic leaves marks around his calves.

Last week he starting sleeping longer... first 4 hours, then 5, then 6 !! Woohoo!  Last week he also went to sleep for daytime naps in his cot, he allowed me to put him down awake and then put himself to sleep, with little fuss! I was one very happy mummy.  Then on Friday I took him out for the day, he got overtired and we had meltdown city on Friday night...very bad.

At the moment we are back at home together and he has gone down in his cot again.  Good baby!

On the good days, I feel so excited and happy... I feel like having 100 more babies and starting right away.  On the bad days, I feel frustrated and infuriated... I feel like never having another baby again!  haha.

All in all, things are going well.  He is fully breastfeed and feeds with great gusto.  The night he slept 6 hours straight I woke up with rock hard breasts and felt like they were going to pop!

Go to the album for a pic or 2 of Sage taken this morning.. 7 weeks, 1 day.

x

Well after 3 weeks at home with my wonderful hubby who did SOOO much, I am now on my own with bub... as the title of this entry suggests.

I was really quite nervous about how I was going to cope.  The last 3 weeks Caleb has pretty much fed me, while I fed bub.  He took care of most of the housework... and did an AMAZING job (now that I know he has the ability to be so ontop of it.. things will never be the same around here again..hehe).  In the first week while I was still healing physically he even changed bub most times and brought him to me to be feed.  I really had an opportunity to rest and heal.  THANKYOU CALEB!  YOU ARE AMAZING! xxx

So come this Tuesday, it was time for him to go back to work...eek.  I had visions of myself starving, sitting round in my pj's amidst a house that looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.  And while it may have been a little like this, at first, it is getting easier!  ;)

Today was a good day.   I have been quite surprised at how seamlessly I have rolled into the 'at home with baby, alone' role.

Yesterday went well too.  Tuesday, I was virtually stuck to the rocking chair, trying desperately to get the baby to sleep... stressing.  Maybe Sage was picking up on my stressed vibe because HE DID NOT WANT TO SLEEP!  At least, not anywhere other than my arms!

But Tuesday came and went and Wed and Thu have been easier.

I think I have stopped being so hard on the poor little guy.  Sheesh.. he will sleep when he needs to.. I just need to help usher him into snooze land, rather than trying to force him through the door... if you know what I mean.

He is such a sweet, little baby.  When he is sleepy, he loves to just cuddle... and I can just be patient and pat his bum and whisper sweet nothings in his ear and when he is all dreamy and floppy I can lay him down, make him feel secure with a nice firm blanket tuck and then he we sleep... cause he is tired.

But when I try to force him to sleep, because it is approaching  the end of 'a sensible amount of time for a baby to be awake' and sit in the rocking chair and think SLEEP, SLEE, SLEEP!!!  It just doesn't help anyone... I get stressed, cause the clock keeps ticking  and I think any moment will lead to pure baby meltdown... he gets stressed etc etc etc.

So I have had to throw the Baby Whisperer 'text book' out the window... somewhat.  HA!

Only week 3 and already SOOO not what I thought.

Sage has his own little personality and I am learning to adapt to it, rather than coerce him to behave like someone he is not.

Controlled crying was NOT gonna work.  Caleb tried it for one night.. it was HELL!! Traumatic. 

Sage wants to be held and loved, and I want to love and hold him.

And lo and behold... when I do this.. he gently falls to sleep and then I can lay him down without the hysteria.

This is such a steep learning curve.  There a times when I feel totally out of my league and it's then that I pray.. and I am so thankful that I can turn to God in these times.. cause otherwise I would be FREAKED OUT!

I am learning not to be so traumatised by Sage's cries.. I think because I am learning how to read his cues more, the cries make sense and I can hear them as phrases..i.e

'I am really tired' ... rather than just cries of pure distress.

Sage has really started grinning, especially first thing in the morning.  For the past three days he has been waking me up with the sun and coercing me to wake up and play with him.  He is SOOO smiley, if his grin was any wider...!!!  Come the afternoon and evening his a little less playful.

His eyes are still dark blue.  He is steadily gaining weight.  And today for the first time, one of his pairs of pants DID NOT fit! He he he.  My little chubber.

Check out the album for a pic or 2.

I felt like writing a bit on my labour experience... so here goes.

I woke on SAT morning and was kinda sad, I was 8 days overdue and felt like I was on an emotional rollercoaster.  I prayed that God would please bring labour on, or at least help me to be patient.  After laying around for a while, I realised I was having braxton hicks type things but they felt a little different.  I told myself 'this is the start of labour.  Thank you God'  , but seriously, how would I know...  I stayed in bed til about 10am sussing out the pains and eventually got out.

It was a FREEZING, grey day.

When I went to the toilet the loo paper had a clear substance on it with tiny streaks of blood in it.  I thought...'maybe, just maybe, this really is it...'

I decided not to tell Caleb as I didn't want to be disappointed if it didn't eventuate and I didn't want to get his hopes up either.  Caleb wanted to go shoot some hoops, so we made some sandwiches, rugged up, took the camera, bought the paper and headed to the park.

He was playing basketball and I was sitting at a table nearby in both our jumpers freezing, reading the paper.  I was paying attention to the pains which were coming every now and then.  After the park we had to go and do our groceries... I mentioned to Caleb that I could be wrong but I thought labour MIGHT have started but not to get his hopes up.  While driving to the shops I decided I DID NOT want to be in public.  I didn't want people to see me, didn't feel like walking, didn't think I could.  So Caleb did the groceries while I waited in the car in the car park, reading the paper and tuning into the pains that were coming every now and then.

 We drove home.  It was sooo cold and grey.  The house was freezing.  We got some chicken laksa out of the deep freezer and heated it up, we ate it while watching Fraiser on the laptop in the loungeroom in front of the heater.  I was bent over the exercise ball and at around 7:00pm I thought I might as well watch the clock and see if the pains were regular or not.

To my shock they were.  I kept one eye on the sitcom one on the clock and announed after a while that pains were every 15 minutes or so.  Caleb raised an eyebrow.  Around 9pm we decided to head into our bedroom.  We played music and enjoyed the warmth of the heater, while reading books and writing.  We started to time the pains and lo and behold they were coming every 8 minutes,  Yikes.

Once we started timing them they really picked up.  Suddenly I was having to work through them.  Within an hr and a half they were 4 to 3 minutes apart. This was going much faster and easier than I thought!  They hurt, I could feel pain in my cervix, I imagined it pulling open.  As they got more intense I lent over the end of the bed... once one stopped I would amble round the house preparing.  Closing blinds, packing last minute things, tidying the bathroom.

Around 11:30pm we called my Mum.  She was excited and nervous.  She tried to sound calm on the phone, but I could tell she wanted to rush over.  She encouraged us to ring our midwife...we held off for a while.  Mum called to see what the midwife said. He he.  We called the midwife and she asked Caleb questions while I continued pacing round the place organising and making sure things were ready.

At one point I was in the hallway on my hands and knees breathing through a contraction.  Caleb relayed this to our midwife and she suggest we  come in when we were ready.  So we decided to wait.  20 minutes later it was time to go.

The drive to the birth centre was surreal.  The roads were so quiet and I had a real peace, a real sense of solitude.  Everything seemed kinda slow, like underwater. I had brought a pillow into the car and was hugging onto it.  Dressed in Caleb's clothes, bracing myself against the cold.  We arrived at around12:30am SUN morning and headed in.

A security guard meet us at the door.  I had anticipated this moment.  Arriving riddled with contractions, wondering how I would handle myself in public... but no one was around.  It was so still.  And I managed to walk, level headed and quiet.

When we stepped into the birth centre, our midwife had just arrived.  She was unpacking her bag.  I wanted to kiss her for being there for us.  It wasn't formally her night to be on call but somehow (due to my prayers I believe... Dear God, please let me get Glenda for the labour) she had decided she would come in and assist us, even though it was her night off.

She ushered us into room 1 and got a hot shower running for me.  I undressed and stepped in.  She said to relax and allow my contractions to re-establish themselves and true enough they had become somewhat irregular during the trip in.

She and Caleb disappeared.  There was oil burning in the room and soft light, music playing and there I was naked under the hot water.  This was it....