The little listener

“Mom, there are lights on at the hospital,” Hannah tells me as we drive by.  I’m not sure why that should be weird since it is the middle of the day and the sky is full of clouds, but she says it as if it’s something super strange.

“There are always lights on at the hospital Sweetie.  There is always someone that needs to go to the hospital, no matter what time of day it is.  The hospital is open all day and all night.  Sometimes babies are even born in the middle of the night.

“Really?” She asks me, wanting to hear more.

“Yeah, remember before Daniel was born, I was in the hospital all night?  I didn’t have him in the middle of the night, I had him in the morning, but some ladies have babies at night.”

“So which one of us did you do a poo with when we were coming out?” She asks me with interest.

I try unsuccessfully to contain my laughter that is slightly laced with mortification. “How did you know about that?”

The cheeky eavesdropper

“I heard you telling someone a long time ago.”  Probably The Jess or Romana.  I don’t generally go around telling people that.

“That was when Daniel was coming out,” I tell her between laughs.

“Why did you poo?”

“Well, you have to push really hard to get a baby out, and if you don’t do a poo before it’s time for the baby to come out, then with all that pushing, a poo comes out too.”

Note to self, don’t talk about stuff when Hannah is even remotely in earshot.

And FYI, it’s normal to poo during birth.  Midwives take care of it as it happens and the mom is usually none the wiser.  The only reason I know is because I felt some wiping while I was pushing.  A giant baby head nestled against your perineum kind of trumps any feeling of poop coming out.

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

A story about stretch marks

I was really lucky, I didn’t really get stretch marks when I was pregnant. Well, I got some on my butt, but I’m pretty sure they are gone now. Maybe. I can’t see them, so they don’t really bother me. I have one little tiny stretch mark on my stomach, just under my belly button from the rambunctious, posterior Daniel.

People generally don’t like stretch marks. They don’t want them. They hate them when they have them. At least that’s what I though. Until I read this story (by Amy Neff, writer of The Neff Family Blog):

Age: 28
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: Baby #1: 2 years. Baby #2: 6 months

Here I am. Almost six months after the birth of my second daughter. Complete with stretch marks, sagging skin, extra weight, and everything just…misplaced, for lack of a better word.

I had two babies in less than two years, my second being rather large. To say I got stretch marks is an understatement. I have been drenched in stretch marks! I remember when I was pregnant with my first daughter and the stretch marks starting popping up and the weight piled on. As ashamed as I almost am to admit this, I was sad and upset. I remember crying as I was trying on maternity clothes, thinking about how my body would never be the same. By the end of the pregnancy my entire abdomen, hips and thighs were covered in stretch marks despite every effort by me, covering myself in every cream and body lotion I could find. Nothing worked. I was just predisposed to get these things. By the time my second daughter came along the stretch marks had faded. But she, being her strong-willed and determined self, added her own marks. While my first daughter decorated my stomach (now nicknamed her “old apartment” by my husband) with mostly vertical stripes, my second was much more creative. She added horizontal lines, squiggly lines, and extended the vertical ones even higher. She was much larger than my first daughter, so the saggy skin was greatly intensified. I would look in the mirror at my post baby body and cringe. I would think, how on Earth could my husband EVER find this attractive?!! But, oddly enough, he somehow does.

Something happened recently that has entirely changed my outlook on my body, my flaws, and my “ruined” abdomen. This story is very sad, but I wanted to share it because it was been so inspirational to me.

On Christmas Eve, 2010 my twin sister found out that she was pregnant. I remember her calling me just minutes after the two lines appeared on the pregnancy test. She was excited, and scared, and a little in shock, as most newly pregnant women are. Her pregnancy progressed well. Everything was fine and uneventful. I remember the day that she got her first stretch mark. She called to tell me about it, and she was EXCITED! She was actually HAPPY about it! She said that that stretch mark showed that her baby was growing. That was the most important thing to her. She was not upset in the least. She was thrilled that her pregnancy was progressing, and that her baby was getting bigger. She had been having premonitions that something wasn’t quite right, and that her baby wasn’t big enough. Everyone, her doctors included, assured her that everything was fine. To her, that stretch mark was just more reassurance that her baby was, in fact, growing.

Tragically and suddenly, at almost 37 weeks pregnant, my sister lost her baby. The details are incredibly sad, so I won’t share them all. She had to deliver her baby and say goodbye. It was, without a doubt, one of hardest things I can ever imagine someone having to go through. After she had been released from the hospital and was sent home, she was telling me how her abdomen had shrunk down so much. How strange that felt…that her pregnant belly was gone, and she was left feeling completely empty. She said that she still had just that one stretch mark. I asked her if it was hard for her to have to see it. She said no. She said that her one stretch mark would always be proof that her baby existed. Those words stuck with me, and will stay with me forever.

Now I look at my stretch marks and saggy, floppy skin quite a bit differently. I was BLESSED with the opportunity to carry my babies full term. I had healthy, full term pregnancies, and I was rewarded with two big babies. Sadly, so many women aren’t this fortunate, which I’ve now seen firsthand. I’ve realized that the sacrifice of my more youthful and skinnier body has been more than worth it.

My sister’s pregnancy was the only time she was given with her baby. I know that she will remember and truly cherish the memories of every kick, every hiccup, every elbow jab. Now I feel that because I was lucky enough to bring my babies home, feed my babies, cuddle with my babies, and raise my babies, the last thing I should do is complain about my less than perfect mid-section.

When I look in the mirror now, do I think my body is pretty, or attractive? No, definitely not. But this body has been through a lot in the past two and half years. Two births in 23 months, a combined weight gain of over 70 lbs, 18+ months of breastfeeding. It takes its toll, and I am grateful for all of it. I’m PROUD of what my body has done and, most importantly, what it has given me. My pregnancies were, by far, the most exciting times of my life. I often miss the moments of pure excitement and anticipation. I miss rubbing my pregnant belly, and bonding with my baby before she was even born. Both pregnancies were such specials times that I will always look back on with so much fondness.

My little niece, who I was never lucky enough to meet, and my incredibly amazing sister have taught me so much and inspired so many, and I wanted to share this story with you. These stretch marks are here to stay, and that’s fine with me.

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Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson

Yes, I had a baby

right after giving birth

Hello Everyone!!  So as you’ve noticed, I’ve been absent for a little while.  I do have a good excuse, I promise!!!  Brace yourselves (because it’s not like you saw this coming or anything…)… I had a baby!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, 8 August, I was trying to get some last minute things done (vacuuming, making some meals for Hannah to put in the freezer, etc.), when my water broke.  Now I’m not talking about just a little trickle.  No sir, this was like a flood.  I was standing there peeling an apple, and WHOOSH!!  Niagra Falls in my pants.  Without all the boats.

I ran to the bathroom, stripped my pants off and sat on the toilet.  It kept coming and coming.  Sigh.  My phone was in the kitchen.  Aaron had just taken Hannah to the park.  I grabbed a pad, held it to my nether regions and made a run for it, hoping and praying that none of the neighbours happened to be looking in the direction of my open window as I dashed around the house half-naked and leaking.

Back to the toilet.  I called Aaron.  No answer.  Crap.  I called again.  No answer.  Crap.  I called Grandma’s house.  She wasn’t home.  Crap.  I called her phone (that she wore around her neck vigilantly whilst awaiting this very call).  She was on the bus, but she answered.  She hopped off that bus, ran as fast as an 81-year old with a pinched nerve, arthritis, and shopping trolley full of stuff can, and got a cab straight here.

I finally got a hold of Aaron in the mean time and he came home too.  I still sat on the toilet, the liquid contents of my uterus leaking out.

The hospital wanted me to come in for a check.  Make sure no meconium (first baby poop) was in the fluid.  There wasn’t any, but they made me stay overnight anyway.  Baby Boy’s head had moved back up, and since my waters broke, the cord could prolapse.  I wasn’t even in labour by the way.  Just leaking and wearing 2 giant maternity pads in my underwear.  They were going to induce me in the morning, so I just had to go to the antenatal ward and sleep until then.

I woke at 12am to pee.  I went back to bed and started getting contractions.  I put my TENS machine on and went back to sleep.  Well, between contractions anyway.  I did manage to get some sleep on and off until 4, when I could no longer sit or lie in bed.  Contractions suck way more when laying or sitting.  I needed to walk.  Everyone else was asleep.  This was, after all, the antenatal ward.  No one else was actually in the process of having a baby.

I paced the halls, one hand on my sore belly (for some reason, the contractions were really painful on the bottom of my stomach, not my back as you’d expect in a posterior labour), the other holding my TENS machine for dear life, cranking it up during each contraction.  The staff asked me how I was doing, and were pleased when I told them I was in labour.  No induction needed, thank you.  I painfully paced the dark empty halls by myself for an entire hour, updating my facebook status between contractions (there was nothing else to do, and I had my phone with me).

At 5 I asked if I could call Aaron, the pain was getting quite severe and I wanted him there for moral support.  They said he could come at 6, but not before because everyone else was asleep.  Antenatal ward remember.  These ladies needed their sleep.  They tried to get me a delivery suite to pace around in instead (and so my husband could come), but none were free.  So I paced some more.

By 5:30, they felt sorry enough for me that they called one of the midwives and told me she’d be up soon so I wouldn’t be alone.

The midwife came up and decided to check me out.  There was now 1 delivery suite available and they wanted to keep it free for someone who may come in and urgently need it.

Ring ring.  Aaron wanted to know if he had time to stop and get some breakfast.  “Sure.” I told him.

The midwife manually checked my progress “call him back, no time for breakfast, you’re 8cms dilated.”

Oh my gosh!  I wasn’t expecting that!  We went straight down to delivery, shocking all the staff.  No one thought I was that far along. I hide it well.

I paced around my delivery suite for a little bit, Aaron arrived, then it was time to push.  I got on the bed with an exercise ball, leaned my torso over it, put my knees on the bed and waited for the next contraction.

Oh.  My.  Gosh.  Pushing is hard!  I Probably should have done my pelvic floor exercises after giving birth to Hannah.  I felt like my every ounce of effort was doing nothing.

I pressed on.  It seemed like hours passed.  Finally the head started coming.  Oh.  My.  Gosh.  It felt like a giant red-hot knife was going to town on my nether region.  But there was no turning back, I had to keep going.  Finally the head was free.  One more push and out came Baby Boy, 22 minutes after I started pushing, 7 hours after my first contraction and only 3 hours after established labour.

They passed him to me between my legs as I grabbed him and turned around to lie on the bed for a cuddle.  We named him Daniel.  Our precious little Daniel, 7lb, 3oz (3.2kg), 50cm long.

They stitched me up and then I had a shower. I was covered in blood and poo.  Yeah poo.  Daniel did a poo as he came out and until then I hadn’t noticed it was actually all over me.  Ew.

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Hannah is born!

Time since birth: 8 days
Total weight loss: 6.9kgs (although it looks like a lot more!)
Hannah’s birth weight: 3.3kg (7.27lbs)
Hannah’s birth size: 48cm (18.89in)
Hannah’s birth date: 5 July 2009

It all started on the 4th of July. In the morning I started getting very irregular contractions that didn’t feel like the usual braxton hicks. We decided we should get to the shops and get a microwave asap as after the baby is born, we would be getting meals delivered for 2 weeks by members of our church (that we would need to heat up). We’ve had some issues in the microwave department for quite some time now. We had to leave the our old one at our last place as it had a cockroach living it in. Not too long ago, my friend May gave us an old one they had. It worked for a day, then made a loud noise and started sparking. So, we went to buy a new one. We were going to go grocery shopping too, but I wasn’t really feeling the best at the time. As soon as we got to the shops, I heard a little girl say to her mom “that girl is so fat!” referring of course to me. I thought it was hilarious though.

Aaron set up our brand new microwave as soon as we got home. I think microwaves have conspired against us because this one didn’t work either. So much for that idea. There was no way I was going back to the shops now!

In the afternoon, my contractions started to get closer together and a little more intense, so we decided to put on my TENS unit. After all, it says it’s most effective if you start using it as soon as you are in proper pre labour, which I knew I was. I had also lost my mucous plug that morning. By evening, the contractions were even closer together and more painful. I found it most comfortable to sit on the floor on my yoga mat, and then drape myself over my exercise ball and start rocking when a contraction came. We tried to put funny movies and things on to distract me as well, but it didn’t work very well. I called the delivery suite when my contractions were about 5 mins apart, but they were still a bit erratic, with some at 4 something, then others at 7 something, so they told me it wasn’t time to go in yet. Aaron would also give me a hard back massage when I got a contraction which helped a lot.

I wanted to get some sleep as I knew I would need energy for the next day, so still wearing the TENS unit, we went to bed. I did manage to sleep between contractions, but woke up again with each one. I still felt rested though which was good. The contractions were getting more intense over night, and by morning, they were just under 5 minutes apart, and about a minute long, so we called the delivery suite again. They told us to come in so they could check my progress, and bring a bag just in case. Contractions in the car were the worst. You can’t get into a comfortable position, you have to just keep sitting there. Aaron suggested I start making noises to help get through them. I’m sure we looked very interesting driving down the road, me with my eyes closed, a look of agony on my face, and making loud low gutteral grunting noises. I had to lean against the car and put my face on my arms when we arrived as I got another contraction.

They took me to the check up room straight away when I arrived, and monitored me and the baby for a while. Baby’s heart rate was really good, and I was having some big contractions, but being in the hospital scared them away somewhat. They did an internal and said I was 3cm dilated. We were sent home for the time being, but told if the pain got too intense, if my water broke, etc. to call and come back. I had a bag of waters in front of the baby’s head which was pushing on everything and making me feel like my insides were going to explode. When we got home, Aaron ran me a warm bath to see if that would help. I got in, but only for a couple of minutes. The contractions were being far too painful. We called the hospital again, and went back.

We got there at 10:30 and this time they took me to a delivery room. They were really quiet that day (I turned out to be the only one to have a normal delivery (non c-section) that day, so they gave me one of the group practice rooms. Group practice rooms are bigger, and have bigger baths as well. They did an internal and found I was 5cm dilated, so they said I should be ready in about 5 hours. We tried the bath again, and it was quite soothing. That is until a contraction came along. I couldn’t just lay there during a contraction. I felt I needed to walk around or something. Plus I couldn’t have my TENS unit in the bath (unless I wanted to electrocute myself). Sorry, but I wasted a whole lot of water in the bath I didn’t really use.

I kept trying different positions during contractions to try and find something more bearable. I tried laying on a mat on the floor. It worked for a while, but then I needed to get up again. I don’t know how I didn’t feel it, but when I got up, there was a big puddle. My water had broken. Oh yeah, we also put on the classical music as soon as we got there to make it more relaxing and homey (worked nicely by the way).

I finally found that walking around while clutching the bottom of my stomach was the way to go. As I walked around, Aaron would walk with me and coach my deep breathing and rub my back. The contractions kept getting stronger and closer together, so sometimes I would also deep breathe the gas. I’m not sure if it was the gas itself, or concentrating on the rattley noise it made when you sucked on it, but it seemed to help.

I felt like i really had to pee but every time i tried i couldn’t. The midwife put a catheter in to drain the urine. not pleasant let me tell you! It seems there was a little head pinching the urine escape route.

After a while i started getting the strong urge to push. the midwife kept telling me not to, but sometimes i couldn’t help it, my body just did it. Aaron would then coach my breathing and I’d pull out of it. But then i felt something. As they were telling me not to push i yelled out “it’s coming!” They took one look at my face and knew it was time to check. About 5 mins earlier they told me they only do the internal every 4 hours so at 2:30 when there was a shift change, the new midwife would check me. I was promptly checked and told i was ready. They were amazed that i dilated so fast as it was my first baby. They asked me what position i wanted to be in then it was push time. i dragged myself over to the mat on the floor and draped myself over a beanbag.

finally, i was allowed to push. it’s so much easier when you can actually do something. i pushed with all my might. i could feel something fly out. all at once i felt extremely scared (it flew out what if they didn’t catch it?), and relief (wow that was easy). but then something wet splatted all over me and i knew it wasn’t over yet. they said it was like a water balloon, shot out of me like a cannonball. when it landed it burst all over everyone. it was my forewaters. i kept pushing with each contraction, the head getting closer each time. finally i could feel it. i gave n all mighty push and it started to come out. but then my contraction finished and it went back in. nobody told me I’d have to birth the head multiple times until it got past the point of no return. i think i almost got it out three times before i felt the agonizing burning sensation of me tearing and the head reaching it;s widest point before finally coming out. i was in a world of pain now, between contractions but torn and still stretched over baby’s neck. i pushed with the next contraction and easily birthed the rest of the baby. i didn’t even notice the doctor giving me a shot (to help detach the placenta).

They passed the baby to me between my legs from behind. i didn’t even think to check, i was just going to hold it, but the midwife said “what is it?” “it’s a girl!” i exclaimed, and put her on my chest. my placenta wasn’t detaching so the midwife was pulling on it and pressing on my uterus. it was quite painful. after a while they told me to give a push. i didn’t think anything would happen but when i pushed, the placenta practically flew out. i guess i like projectiles….

I was covered in blood and there was blood everywhere. I was sitting in a giant puddle of blood. I was worried i’d lost too much but they said it was about 400ml which is normal.

She fed straight away until they got me on the bed for my stitches. Aaron got to hold her while i was being tortured. i inhaled a large amount of gas and felt floaty as they gave me local anesthetic (my first actual pain relief of the ordeal). i could feel pulling and it seemed to take ages as they stitched me in layers. i’m not sure exactly how many stitches i had except that it was more then 10. ewwww.

before i got to go to my room, i was told i had to pee,shower, and carb load myself so as not to pass out. you really do feel lightheaded after giving birth. it’s like every ounce of energy has been zapped from you and you have nothing left. luckily they take you to your room in a wheelchair.

i managed to get through labour with only the TENS and gas, but only because of Aaron’s encouragement, coaching and praise. he is the bestest!

After sifting through all the conflicting info given by different midwives, we seem to be getting caring for Hannah down. She is a beautiful little girl, and a little treasure.

I’m hoping my stitches and bruised coccyx will feel better soon, but other then that, we are doing well.