I jumped ship!!

From now on, this blog is hosted at Tumblr.  I wanted a prettier design than Blogger could offer me, and I think I found it.   Here is the link: BeaverRoo's new home
See you all there!

Oh mother!

This house is full of mothers these days.


Mom's mom, my Nannie is here visiting for three weeks.

My older sister Jenny swung in for a visit from St. Thomas with her youngest Averee.

My younger sister and brother came for a visit, as well as my oldest Fawn, and suddenly the place has become FULL of love, laughter, and, well.... a lot of noise.

Its also full of advice.  With this many mommas, the combined years of experience is staggering.  Everyone has ideas and suggestions for every single peep Amelia makes.  I'm finding it alternately very helpful, and reassuring when something I am worrying about gets explained to me, but also outrageously confusing.


The thing is, with motherhood spanning three different generations, the advice gets pretty varied.  You have a non-spanking sister contrasted with a nannie who believed a 4 month old baby will definitely deserve and understand a swat on the leg when she fusses.   I didn't know there were so many different ways to burp a baby and everyone has their own way of calming her down when she is screaming.   I do all the feedings and changings myself, so we are mostly advice free on the breastfeeding front, but the colic-like crying symptoms have brought out the most advice nuggets.  My sister swears her son's colic went away when she switched to formula instead of breast feeding.  My nannie says that when mom had colic, a bottle with a few ounces of rye, warmed with a bit of sugar put her right to sleep.

Yeah. Because you had a drunk baby.  I declined her offer to try this remedy, and I tried to do it respectfully, because in her days of motherhood, this type of thing was probably completely normal.  Besides, the important things remain the same over the years.  Every single momma here believes in unconditional love, soothing a baby when she cries, and the mommy-baby bond that is special like no other.  Its amazing to see how Amelia can somehow sense when she is in competent arms; she promptly falls right to sleep every time.

Love drunk, milk drunk, but not drunk-drunk.

Every generation of mothers has something that we all look back on, and judge, and agree was really really silly, if not downright dangerous.  We keep trying to give our babies a safer and healthier start to life and we do it with the best of intentions.   I wonder what mothering practice of our generation future mothers will look back on and say "God, that was DUMB.  What were they thinking? I won't be doing that!"

One Month

Daughter of Mine,

Where does the time go? I can NOT believe you are already a month old.  Though the days are a blur, I have to take the time to jot some things down now, while they are still fresh and clear in my mind, because this time is fleeting and precious and you are changing every single day

Parental Pride - I'm sure this is the same for all parents, but your dad and I are SO incredibly proud of you.  Everywhere we go, when people stop to look at you, we can't help but puff our chests out a bit, and smile like fools.  You are by far the most beautiful baby girl I have ever seen, and we are enthralled with your big blue eyes and your cleft chin, and your gorgeous long nails.   We applaud your burps and cheer about your poops.

Coos and Cries and the In-Betweens - This month you communicate with us through a series of different cries, and the occasional coos.  At first, they all sounded the same to me, but through trial and error, I have learned to distinguish between them.  Now I know the difference between "I'm hungry, feed me" "I have serious gas" and "I'm wet, change me".  You are starting to coo more and more.  I don't know if you do it deliberately yet, but it's still pretty cute either way.

Big and Strong- Both doctor's that have seen you so far have commented on how strong you are for a newborn.  You can lift your head up and turn it from side to side during tummy time.  You have a healthy pair of lungs on you too.  Every day you get a little bit bigger.  You have new rolls on your arms and legs, and you no longer fit into your newborn onesies.  Even your face has changed!

Hard Yakka - I've heard people say motherhood is the hardest job there is.  It is certainly the most intense one I have ever had! You are my first and only priority 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  But this month has been the most rewarding of my life.  When I look at your peaceful face as you are sleeping, or when I comfort you when you cry, I feel like I am accomplishing something tangible and important.  You are our Mia, our pumpkin, our fuss-a-muss, our monkey, our world.  Happy one month darling.
Love,
Mom

Big City Girl

This week, Amelia and I took our second trip to Kingston to visit Taz, who has been working at the Tir Na Nog in the city since August 1st.  I've missed him like crazy, and impatiently counted down the days until we saw each other.  The only problem that had me worried was the driving.  The last trip on my own was really difficult, and that was before Amelia started to have gas-related crying for long periods.  So this time I decided to take the VIA rail train from Stratford.  That reduced our driving time from 12 hours to an hour and a half, and the overall traveling time from twelve hours to six and a half.

The one downside? Hauling a baby's worth of stuff out of a car, onto a train, and onto a different train in Toronto.  Babies have a lot of gear!  I'm sure it looked a bit comical - one woman hauling a stroller, car seat, diaper bag, duffel bag, camera bag, and purse, with a baby strapped to her front in a baby carrier.  Of course, Amelia always chose the boarding time to start to fuss and cry, so every time I hauled my stroller, bags and self into a train, it was with a screaming baby attached to my chest.  Every. Single. Time.

Still, it was worth it to see Taz.  This is the longest we have been apart since he came to Canada two years ago, and it was especially hard with the new baby.  We took advantage of the couple of full days he had off, and spent them together enjoying the city.

We went out to lunch at the lovely Pan Chanchos.

Amelia slept, and then woke up and looked around calmly while we ate our lunch

At a table nearby, a foursome had a one year old boy.  He would NOT sit still for a single minute during the meal and his mom spent her lunch alternately chasing him around the patio and carrying him on her hip trying to distract him.  The server offered to bring her crayons, and she replied "No thanks. He'll eat them."  I thought to myself, "that's my very near future.  Lordy."

We also spent an afternoon in a city park by the water just watching the waves roll in and the world go by while Amelia dozed in her stroller in the shade.  It was the most relaxed we have been together in months, and very revitalizing for our relationship.  Stress is NOT good.

I also got to visit with two of my closest friends in the world. Both for MUCH too short a time, but still, it was lovely to get some face to face time, and catch up for what will probably be the last time before I take off for Australia.

I am grateful for our friendship with Rhonda, who is putting hubby up for the majority of August.  She was so helpful to Amelia and I while we were there, giving us rides downtown and to the train station for the return trip, and making us feel very welcome in her home.   Her cat Chloe was adorable, and reminded me of how much I miss Peach.

What else? I tried Menchies frozen yogurt for the first time.  It's a neat concept of paying based on the weight of your yogurt, and it tasted ok, but I got seriously spoiled by the gelato in Australia, and now nothing else really compares.  Also, through an accidental spill, I discovered that Amelia in fact does NOT appreciate having frozen yogurt dropped onto her head.

We got good use out of the portable changing pad on the trip.  This is a diaper change in a little park off of Johnson Street

The long hours downtown meant that in addition to the diaper changes, we encountered some public feedings by necessity.  I breastfed in 2 restaurants, on 3 park benches and during one ride on a city bus.  I'm getting pretty used to whipping a boob out in public, though its a far cry from parading around on a picnic table at the Woolshed.  Oh, how things change...

I got to say farewell to a lot of places around the city that were old haunts of mine.  El Asador's where you get the best burritos in town and the owner still remembers what my usual is.  The bubble tea spot where I have literally spent hundreds of dollars and never kept a stamp card long enough to earn a free tea (buy 10, get one free. That is, unless you lose the damn thing)  I walked around a quiet Queen's campus and ran into an ex boyfriend of mine from first year in the library.  First year is so long ago now and we both have changed so much.  I'm a wife and mother moving to Australia, he's a teacher heading up to the Yukon in a few weeks.  I wish I'd had more time to talk to him.  I wanted to catch up on the years in between.

Kingston was a big part of my formative years.  It was my first big city, my first apartment on my own.  I had a lot of learning experiences there, made a few big mistakes, and a lot of memories.  I'm very glad I got to share it with Amelia, even though she won't remember it.  It's ok. We have the pictures to show her in years to come.

Yes dear, you DID make this face in public.  And we loved it.

"WAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"

is the written interpretation of the sound a gassy baby makes.  Interestingly, it is also the written representation of the noise a woman makes when she realizes that her all time favourite pair of 4" black high heels, the ones that make any outfit look twice as sexy, the ones that have taken her through years of schooling, partying, and strutting, and fit her like a glove......

........now fit her post-partum feet like O. J. Simpson's glove.  

Its a sad, sad sound.

Go To Sleep You Little Baby

AnLast night Amelia woke up at 2 a.m. hungry and wet.  We nursed, and I changed her, but she was wide awake after, and fussy.  Nothing was working - not lying belly to belly, not the swing, not burping while walking.  Every few seconds her face would scrunch up and turn bright red, and she would YELL.   Mom's in Stratford for a visit with her best friend, and dad had left that afternoon for a run to Edmonton, so it was just the two of us in the house and I was stumped.  Then I remembered lullabies.

Now, I don't consider myself a good singer, and I don't sing in front of anyone except my dog.  However, I've read that babies aren't judgmental, so I took a shot at it, and dug up the only lullaby lyrics I could remember at 3 a.m.

And it worked!!!  She stopped crying, and focused on my face and just stared and stared.  I sang this song 14 or 15 times non stop (I lost count) as I rocked back and forth in the bedroom.  I watched her eyes get heavier and heavier, and eventually they stayed closed.  By the 12th or 13th time through, the wrinkles on her brow smoothed out, and she was breathing evenly and slowly.  Then I very slowly, very carefully, laid her down.  I had just rocked, soothed, and sang my crying baby to sleep for the first time, and it was the most amazing feeling of accomplishment. By 4:10, we were both sleeping soundly. At 5:12, she gave a good loud holler of hunger, and we began again. But that's ok.  Every day I learn new skills and slowly we will figure out this sleeping thing.  In the meantime, an hour at a time is going to have to do for me.  I've come to the conclusion that motherhood really is the hardest, most beautiful thing I will ever accomplish. 

Necessity is The Mother of Invention, Yet Again

With babies comes a whole new list of swear words.  For me, the top one right now: GAS.  Things ramped up two days ago, and they haven't settled down, and its all thanks to that one ugly little word.
My GOD, the crying and the screaming.  Amelia's vocal cords reach a whole new pitch, which tweaks something deep in my heart, and an urgent message is sent to my brain: "Fix this. NOW!"

Bouncing is the fix-it solution.  Baby can either be bounced in someone's arms, or bounced in an apparatus.  Choose whatever you like, but during a gas attack, baby must not be still, or screaming will commence.   I have a baby swing, but it doesn't bounce, just sways back and forth.  And carrying all the time isn't practical- we would need a livingroom full of grandmothers to keep her jiggled and happy in someone's arms whenever the dreaded gas attacks.

So Noanie and I built our own bouncing baby seat.  Behold:

Half a jolly jumper + 1 car seat = pure genius.  The best part? This is my bedroom doorframe, and though you can't see it, there is a long leash attached to the bottom of the car seat that runs through an O-ring on the floor, and the leash reaches my bed.  This means I can bounce her while laying down at night. 

That's right. Amelia sleeps in this thing for about 3-4 hours, usually between midnight and 3 a.m. Its not a bassinette or a crib, the two places babies are "supposed" to sleep at night but man, judge not lest ye be saddled with a gassy baby.  

A new mother's best friend

is an enthusiastic grandma.

Amelia ALWAYS sleeps better for noanie

Although I've been warned not to call her "grandma" on pain of death. ONLY "Noanie" will do


My other new favourite thing?  Baby carrier.  Today it was a matter of cry or be carried.  So we carried.

Amelia also seems to have a distinct preference for being bounced when she has gas pains.  Sometime over the past three days it became obvious that we would need a bouncing apparatus because she is crying more and more.  Mom says this is very similar to what Danny was like, and he developed full-blown colic.  Fingers crossed that's not what is happening here.

We improvised with her car seat and the spring from a second hand jolly jumper.  Pics up with the next post.  Right now, the baby's sleeping, and I need some rest too.

Nighttime is Mission Pooptime

I was warned that Amelia might get her nights and days mixed up a bit at first, and sleep a lot during the day and keep me up at night.  For the first few weeks, I considered myself pretty lucky, because at night she woke up for feedings, had a diaper change and a cuddle, and then went back to sleep.  That has changed.  Instead of using night for sleeping,  Amelia uses nighttime for grunting and straining.  Makes it sound like I am sharing my bedroom with an old man pushing a big rock up a steep hill.  

It doesn't disturb her any - most of the time I think she sleeps right through it.  Not me though.  I'm sharing a room with the world's smallest constipated walrus.  And I thought Taz's snoring was bad...

My Invisible Family Doctor

Today Amelia and I went to our "well baby" 2 week check up with Dr. Teeple in Zurich.    It was our second visit to the Bluewater Health Clinic, and I haven't met our doctor yet.  Both times a practicioner's assistant (whose name I have forgotten...bad me!) has taken care of us instead.  She is really nice, and I have no complaints, but I find it kind of funny that throughout my entire pregnancy I never actually set eyes on the family doctor that I am registered with.  Maybe next time...

Amelia has put on over a pound!   Must be all that eating, sleeping, pooping, eating, sleeping, pooping, eating, sleeping, pooping, eating.....

Sleeping off breakfast

The mommy moments

I've had a couple moments so far when despite the curtain of fatigue it comes through crystal clear: I'm a mommy now.

The first one came with Amelia's first at home poopy diaper.  She went more than 36 hours before she graced us with a mustard poop and I was starting to get worried.  When it came, it was 36 hours worth, and more.  Relief was quickly followed with a sinking feeling of dismay.  For those of you who have been reading along, we have committed to cloth diapers, and this butt-load (pun intended) of yellow crap had to be dealt with differently than if it was a disposable.  The cloth diaper had to be rinsed.  In the toilet bowl.  So here I was, bent over the toilet, both hands swirling around in a toilet bowl with the consistency of pea soup, and it occurred to me that I will probably do this thousands of times in the next year.  I'm a mommy now.

The cloth diapering is going well, overall.  I've learned how to successfully fasten a snappi on the first try, because by attempt number two, we have an unhappy little monster on our hands.  I've managed to restrain my laughter when daddy lines up the diaper cover backwards. Or sideways.  He always gets it, eventually.

The second mommy moment came on our drive back to Belmore from Kingston.  Just me and Amelia.  Talk about a nerve-wracking 12 hours! It was stinking, stupid hot, and the A/C in my Subaru just couldn't compete.  Amelia was fussing to be fed every two hours on the dot, and one of those fusses started when I was stuck in a construction zone just past Napanee.  Fussing turned to crying, and crying turned to screaming, and I was stuck in a long line of cars with absolutely NO movement, and no way to explain to my baby why I wasn't picking her up and making her feel better.  The minutes passed with agonizing slowness, and I eventually broke down and cried along with her, since there was nothing else I could do.  We both had swollen eyes by the time we got out of the car.  I'm a mommy now-her pain is my pain.

Someday I will tell her about how we carted her across Ontario when she was barely a week old, and what a trooper she was, and how proud I am of her for that.  I will tell her about how she slept through her first two Tim Horton's visits, and how she charmed all the little old ladies over lunch.

I'll tell her not to try it as a teenager, but when she was brand new, the first few times she cried, her mom cried too.

The New Royalty

The Bagg household already had a princess, and her name was Lizzy.  A 9 year-old 1.5 pound Yorkshire terrier, Lizzy is allowed to roam where no other dog can even poke their nose.  Zeek and Trucker are confined to the mud room, but even while infested with fleas, Lizzy has run of the kitchen, living room, dining room.  Zeek and Trucker eat dry dog food.  Lizzy eats a variety of wet from a can, and fresh vegetables.

Fresh. Vegetables.

The little diva even gets away with sleeping on clean laundry in baskets, if her own wicker basket isn't good enough for a nap.

Your laundry? No no. My new throne.

Well, this week, that all changed. Move over Lizzy,  there's new royalty at the Bagg household.

Our little Princess

This is the story of her grand entrance.  It's a bit long, but it has to be, because the process itself was looooong. 

Each woman has a different idea of when exactly "labour" starts.  For some women it has begun right from the first contraction.  My mom didn't count any of her labours as having started until her water broke.  I guess its individual.  In my more melodramatic moments, I would have said labour started for me on Amelia's due date because after that the four days of waiting were PAINFUL!  But really, contractions started at 11 p.m. on July 21st, on our one-month anniversary dinner date.  On the drive home, I realized that the "ouch" feelings in my lower tummy and back were coming at regular intervals. I didn't say anything to anyone for a couple hours, because I was afraid of scaring them away.  Instead, I sat in a chair, focussing on what each cramp felt like.  They weren't that painful at all, just a deep tightening feeling, and a back ache.  Eventually I told mom and Taz what was going on.  Taz's first reaction, from a dead sleep, was "ok, so do we go to the hospital now?"  I told him since they were at least 10 minutes apart, we could wait a bit, and he should get some rest.  At around 2 a.m., I went to bed and tried to sleep a bit. But really, how do you sleep with that balance of pain and excitement?  I guess I eventually managed, because the next thing I realized it was 6 a.m. and I woke myself up by whimpering through a contraction that was way more painful than the night before.  A quick check with my handy-dandy contraction timer (aka ipod) showed these ones to be about 5-6 minutes apart.  We decided around 7:30 to head to the hospital, since the birthing clinic handout said to come on in when the contractions were 5 minutes apart and painful.

I thought those ones were painful.  I thought it might have been active labour.  Ha.  Turns out, if you can drive yourself to the hospital during contractions, it ain't active labour.

Taz and I arrived at the hospital, and picked our room.  I was the only woman that they had in that day, so I had my pick of the 6 birthing suites.  I picked one, and changed into a super-sexy butt-less gown for an exam.  Heart rate, blood pressure, baby's heartbeat, all looked good, but I figured something was up when the nurse had to wait for a contraction before she could even reach my cervix....  I was only dilated 1 cm.  The nurse kindly suggested we go home and wait for things to pick up, so I got dressed, and we left.  The drive home was disheartening.  I was tired. Tired from not sleeping, tired of waiting, tired of trying to be patient.   When we got home, I went back to bed to try to catch up on lost sleep.  I slept until noon, and when I woke up, the contractions were not five minutes apart anymore.  They were ten minutes apart.

My labour was going backwards.  I was going to be pregnant forever.

The rest of the day I just killed time.  Taz and I went for a long walk around the trailer park down the road.  During that hour long walk, I only had 3 contractions.  I was getting pretty miserable, and the words "stalled labour" and "pitocin" were fluttering around in my brain.  My sister and her boyfriend arrived unexpectedly for dinner, and making polite small talk with her boyfriend was the LAST thing I wanted to do. So, I apologized, and hunkered down in the rec room alone.  Mom had suggested I squat through each contraction, but I hadn't done it before now, mainly because I felt silly doing it. Guess I really should listen to the woman that's been through this 6 times before. I tried it then, and oh boy, did that help!  Things took off amazingly from there.

Within an hour of squatting during each pain, they moved from 10 minutes apart to averaging 6 minutes. I actually found that squatting made the pain slightly better even.  That was around 7 p.m.  At 9 I moved upstairs to my bedroom, and read a book on the bed while not in pain, and squatted with my elbows on the bed during the contractions. I was starting to have to breathe differently during the peak of pain, blowing out through pursed lips.  Around 10 Taz came up to go to bed.  He had juuust drifted off to sleep when suddenly, something about how these contractions felt changed.  I don't know what it was, but I just knew it was different.  I woke him up, and told him we needed to go. Now.

Good thing we had the car already packed. And good thing we did leave when we did, because on the way into the hospital, they got closer together again.  This time, when we got to the hospital, they let us stay.  It was just after midnight, and I was about 4 cm dilated.

I firmly believe that atmosphere has a whole lot to do with how a labour goes.  I was very lucky.  We had an entire birth ward to ourselves, and we set up the room to our liking: dark and calm.  Mom sat in the corner on a rocking chair not saying much, and watched Taz and I work together.  I was having a lot of back pain, so I knelt on the bed and leaned over a birthing ball, and Taz rubbed my back. Our nurse Marilyn came in periodically with a doppler to check Amelia's heart rate, which stayed stable and fine.  After about an hour, I decided to get into the tub.  Oh my god, instant bliss!  Warm soothing water, a handheld shower head and jacuzzi bubbles.  I stayed in there for close to an hour by myself, just sloshing water over and over my belly.  Taz and mom dozed in the next room.

While I was drying off and getting ready to get out, I heard a flurry of footsteps and the rattle of a trolley being pushed hurriedly down the hall.  I came out of the room and asked mom what was going on.  She said a woman had come in fully dilated, and delivered in 3 minutes.

"I hate her"


Time passed. I walked in circles around the room, ate freezies, and Taz rubbed my back.  Eventually Dr. Schipper arrived, and checked me again.  I was still dilated 4 centimeters.  She asked me if I wanted her to break my water.  By that point, it was 3 a.m. and I was eager for things to be moving along, so I said yes.  I was nervous, not knowing what it was going to feel like. Taz stood by the head of my bed and held my gaze and told me over and over it was going to be ok.

With my water broken, the contractions got extremely intense.  Each one felt like a steel trap biting down on my lower stomach, and a hot band squeezing my lower back.  I refilled the tub, and jumped in, and I remember saying out loud to no one in particular, "please, I hope this makes it feel better". It did...but not a lot.  Taz sat beside me and sprayed my lower belly and back and Marilyn came in periodically to use her doppler, which was starting to annoy me. The last thing you want during a pain like that is someone pressing a stick into your stomach.

I reached 6 centimetres. Then 8. The world shrank to my body and my breath.  When the contractions came within 30 seconds of each other, I started throwing up, and couldn't stop retching long enough to catch my breath in between them.  Poor Taz. I was whimpering and crying and puking and shaking and he just kept rubbing my back and telling me it would be ok.  When I reached the point where I knew I wanted something for the pain, he didn't question me, just went to tell Marilyn, who brought in a syringe of I.V. Fentanyl.  I had to get out of the tub and lie on the bed on my back for her to insert the I.V.  That sucked.  The first vein didn't work, and I was shaking and trying not to squirm. I don't know how women labour entirely on their back.....I had to be up and moving.

With the Fentanyl, I would say the top 10% of the pain disappeared.  In between contractions I was much more relaxed and I was able to catch my breath and rest a bit.  Most of the time I spent in transition I sat on the toilet backwards and rested my head against my arms.  Taz rubbed my back pretty much nonstop.  I later found out his hands were killing him, but he didn't say a thing at the time. Smart man.
Marilyn came in once to top up the Fentanyl.  I guess about an hour passed.    When they checked me again, I was juuuusst about fully dilated, and Marilyn left to get Dr. Schipper.  "Time to have this baby" everyone said.  It was 6 a.m.  and I was about done with the labour process. Time indeed.

Marilyn said that when I felt pressure, and the urge to push, I could try pushing.  I was told that laying on my side while pushing might help with the back pain.  Now here's a secret: I felt a LOT of pressure, and pain in my lower back, but I never felt an overbearing urge to push.  I held off for a few contractions to see if I could feel what all those other women were talking about, but it never came. I wasn't feeling my uterus do anything at all.  However, I was fully dilated, and had been given the green light to start pushing so I thought, "to hell with it. If I have a lazy uterus, I will just do this myself. Abs, don't fail me now."

Within one push, I knew that I'd have to clarify something here: pushing does not feel good. It does not feel any better to push than to have a regular contraction. It hurts during the pushing, and when you stop, it hurts more.  I think the "feels better" idea comes from the fact that you are doing something instead of just breathing and moaning.  I really did feel like I was getting somewhere, finally.   I had my own personal cheering squad chanting "push, push" just like in the movies. I remember thinking "oh, neat, Hollywood got that part spot on."  I ended up pushing on my back since the side-lying position with a nurse holding up my leg just felt awkward.   Taz rubbed my head and pushed the hair out of my face, and reminded me to breathe.  Mom said he took the whole process like a champ. I didn't really notice what he was doing - I had my eyes closed pretty much the entire time.

45 minutes passed.  Did you know you can literally feel the baby's progress down the birth canal?  It is the weirdest sensation.  I was offered a mirror. I declined.   I don't do bloody scenes well in movies or pictures, and I was sure I wouldn't handle my own any better.   Then Dr. Schipper warned me about an imminent burning sensation and oh holy jesus she was right!!!  I guess the Fentanyl had worn off by then.  There was no relaxing between pushes, just a few seconds to catch my breath.  At one point I remember begging the nurse to "just fucking kill me."  Everyone laughed and said they'd heard it before.  Dr. Schipper threw a green gown over her clothes, a second nurse came running with a bunch of towels, and someone told me "this is it. Time to have this baby"

And that was the point my uterus decided to co-operate.  With Amelia 3/4 crowned, my body suddenly bore down without me.  Someone exclaimed "her head is out!" and apparently Taz was bouncing up and down beside me.  There was a weird squiggly, slithery feeling, and suddenly I was reaching down for this baby and pulling her, wet and gasping up onto my chest.

And just like they all tell you, like my mom and grandmother and all the mothers I knew promised would happen, all the pain disappeared.  I thought this was a lie before my labour. I thought all women said it to us moms-to-be so we wouldn't be so scared, but it is true ladies.  The second I held her in my arms, it was the biggest rush of ecstacy and joy. I vaguely remember talking, but I'm pretty sure it was incoherent babble.  A nurse jabbed a needle with oxytocin into my leg and I barely registered the deep, dull burning that came with it.

They took her to be weighed and checked, they "massaged" (aka attacked) my belly to expel the placenta and encourage my uterus to contract - (THAT HURTS!!) and Taz and I stared at each other with tears in our eyes.  This is it babe. We're parents now, and our world has forever changed.

Now, two weeks after my labour, I find myself looking back on the night fondly, and replaying parts of it in my mind.  It truly was the hardest, most beautiful thing I have ever done. I know I am very lucky to have such a straightforward and easy delivery, and one in which I basically called all the shots.  No one pressured me into anything medically that I didn't want, and I was able to labour in whatever positions, and situations I chose.  All women should be so lucky, because I think it really made a difference in the end result: Happy baby and happy mommy.


Ok, this post took waaay longer to write than I expected. I started it over a week ago, but with a newborn in the house, it got done in bits and pieces whenever I found ten minutes. I promise to update more regularly now - I have tonnes to write.  Motherhood is so much more than I could ever have expected, and its only week two!