The Broken Heart – continued

Wonder what happened to my Valentines Day guest post author?  Was he able to celebrate Valentines Day after all? Here is the story:

Apparently the best laid contingency plans can also be thwarted by Fate.  What we all optimistically thought were just bad lower back contusions from my wife’s icy fall (see first instalment here) fating our Valentine’s Day into a mesh of alternative ideas – turns out to be much worse. Cupid may have fallen on his arrow, because it’s hard to find any love from deities this week.

My wife was discharged later that same day of admission. Plenty of pain killers and no broken bones. Over the next two days the pain increases to the point of immobility, almost paralyzing, electro-shock pain, despite the pain relievers. I knew right then Valentine’s Day wasn’t happening. There was no healing, just swelling.

Inching her towards the car was futile and the ambulance was called  Tears were streaming, fear was taking hold, and will was lapsing. Honestly, I almost joined her, but I needed to be the rock as I always am. Even our first childbirth didn’t strike such terror and anxiety. All my attempts to help created more pain. I felt powerless. 15 minutes later she was on a gurney back to the hospital. That day ended with a CAT scan confirming no breaks but contusions, the possibility of a new or old herniated disc, swelling, and no concrete answers. 

Enter the MRI which confirmed the CAT scan and a swelling her sciatic nerve. That explains the pain, but isn’t the MRI to know what is causing the swelling? You can numb pain with narcotics, but you have to fix the problem.  As of now, we may be moving to a more renowned hospital and are getting second opinions.  She in incapable to get physical therapy because despite pain killing drips, she can not bend to get off the bed.

We spent Valentine’s Day, the day before and the day after (today) in the hospital. The contingency plans are a thought of the past. My wife, who often puts seemingly undue importance on Holidays was the first to say, “Let’s just have our own Valentine’s Day when this is over.  There’s just no point in pretending something is happy when it isn’t”.  I agree.  Everything is lip service when you can’t be receptive to the notion.  Right now, neither of us can be receptive to anything.

I feel almost as shocked as her, yet force myself to be numb for her.

I’m not saying Valentine’s Day should be easily dismissed. I hope next year we will celebrate another year of us, using Valentine’s Day as a romantic inspiration and backdrop. But injury and strife always put things in a proper perspective.  Our priorities change, and the only mindset up to debate is whether we choose to keep these new found priorities when the crisis is over, or if we will go back to our old ways of thinking when not under life’s pressures and pains.

But my heart yearns to rejoin the legions of happy romantics next year, because any alternative due to this injury is simply unthinkable.

Barry Kaye
www.DadsPlan.com

If you enjoyed reading this, please vote for my blog. All you have to do is click the link below. That’s it… Clicking the link brings you to the Top Mommy Blogs home page. You don’t have to do anything else. Any clicks from my site to theirs is a vote.  THANKS!

Like my blog? ‘Like’ it on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mommy-Adventures/203964682967827?ref=tn_tnmn

Pin It You officially have my permission to pin this (as long as it links back to my site).  Just don’t act like you wrote it. Because you didn’t….

Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

Flashback Friday: The one about my leg

I’ve made reference to my leg and it’s tumour before, but I haven’t yet told you the full story (I don’t think…I’d better just do a quick search…ok, I haven’t told the story before). So here it goes:

I was 16 years old. It was April 21st. Yes, 2 years later, that would be the very date that Aaron and I started going out. We were having a talent show at 4-H (yes, that same 4-H that Homer Simpson makes fun of in an episode of the Simpson’s). I was going to play a few songs with the triplets. I was the guitarist for the evening. Mind you, I wasn’t very good. I’d only had my guitar for 4 months at that stage.

Hopped up on sugar, I was standing near my friend, who was sitting down, trying to get her to roughhouse with me. I leaned in and pushed her shoulder. She pushed me back. I bent over a little bit and shoulder barged her. We giggled. She pushed me away gently with her foot, barely touching my shin with her shoe. CRACK!

The colour drained from my face instantly. My eyes bulged out of my head as my mouth went from a smile to stunned mullet gasping. I froze right where I was. excruciating pain like I’d never felt before crippled my leg.

“Are you ok?” My friend asked me. “What’s wrong?”

“My leg.” I somehow managed to croak out. Maybe I was over reacting or being a total wuss. I shifted some weight from my right leg back to my left. Oh. My. Gosh. 

No, there was no way I could even stand on it. I somehow got to a chair. Or maybe one was brought to me. I can’t even remember, my mind kind of went foggy with pain. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I knew my leg was broken. I heard the horrible crack it made as it broke. I felt the horrible pain – was still feeling the horrible pain. But my friend barely touched my leg. How could it be broken? It didn’t make any sense.

“Mom, there’s something wrong with my leg.” I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t a crier. Never have been. Except now if I see something sad about kids. Gets me every time. That’s what motherhood does I suppose.

My Mom studied me for a couple of seconds, attempting to determine if I was truly hurt or just being wussy “Just sit down for a while and see how you go.” She told me. Or something like that. It was a long time ago.

The talent show started. People did stuff. I couldn’t tell you who did what or even how many people performed. I was too busy sitting in my chair trying not to think about the pain, willing my leg to not be broken.

“Your turn!” Someone said. The rest of the band was already ready.

“Um…I can’t walk.” They still thought I was being wussy or making the whole thing up, so they humoured me and carried me to the stage in my chair. Instead of rocking out, I played Louie, Louie like an old lady, sitting in my chair, wincing as I played. I don’t even know how I got through it, but I did. I don’t even think I messed up.

Playing guitar with my undiagnosed broken leg.

A couple hours later, it was all finished. My leg wasn’t any better. If anything, the pain was worse. Trying to put even a tiny bit of weight on it sent searing pain through my body. The throbbing was terrible.

“Alright, I’ll take you to the after hours doctor.” My mom told me. It was in the next town. I held onto two people’s shoulders and hopped my way down to the truck. Or maybe they carried me. I’m not sure. Haze of pain, remember?

We drove 15 minutes to the next town, only to find the after hours doctor was closed. Sigh.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” My Mom asked me.

“No, I need to see someone now.”

“Ok, I guess I’ll have to take you to the ER then.”

We drove 15 minutes back to our town. The hospital was on the other side of the railroad tracks. Oh. My. Gosh. My leg jarred as we drove over the tracks, nearly putting me in tears. Pretty much the only thing I remember about that car ride is going over the railroad tracks. It was bad. 

I took hold of my Mom’s elbow and hopped my way into the E.R. where I was given a wheelchair to sit on. I have no idea how long I was waiting for, but after a while, someone came over to where I was sitting and started asking questions.

“Where does it hurt?” She asked me.

“There.” I pointed to the spot just below my knee.

“And how did it happen?”

“I was roughhousing with my friend, and she pushed me with her foot. But not very hard.”

“On a scale of 1-10, 1 being no pain, 10 being excruciating, how much does it hurt.”

“10.” Actually, I probably tried to be hard core and said something like 7. Or maybe I was just getting used to the pain by then.

“Well, no one really breaks their leg right under their knee, that is the strongest part of your tibia, if it was broken, it would be at the thinnest part. So how about you just go home and try to walk on it, and see how you go in the morning?”

“No. You need to x-ray it. I’m not leaving.” Seriously, I was not leaving until they checked it out. Even if I had to be a little feisty in the process.

She must have seen the determination in my eyes as she took me for an x-ray straight away, then wheeled me into a consultation room.

When she returned, she was not alone. There were a couple of other doctors with her. The look on their faces said it all. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

This is getting rather long now, so I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happend next.

If you enjoyed reading this, please vote for my blog. All you have to do is click the link below. That’s it… Clicking the link brings you to the Top Mommy Blogs home page. You don’t have to do anything else. Any clicks from my site to theirs is a vote.  THANKS!

Like my blog? ‘Like’ it on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mommy-Adventures/203964682967827?ref=tn_tnmn

Pin It You officially have my permission to pin this (as long as it links back to my site).  Just don’t act like you wrote it. Because you didn’t….

Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson

Gold Coast – Part 3: Emergency Room

The morning went well enough.  I took Hannah for a walk to go get breakfast (mmm…McDonald’s breakfast is just so good! To all who are gasping in horror, please note, Hannah does not eat Macca’s breakfast.  She gets the healthier stuff).  Aaron, Hannah and I went to the beach and played in the sand.  We went out to lunch.  Hannah played at the park.

We packed the nappy bag and bundled Hannah into the car.  We timed the trip to Byron Bay (to visit Aaron’s Mum) to coincide with Hannah’s nap.  Otherwise, she’d be too bored for the ride.

Squeal, babble, bubble blowing, chattering.  She was full of beans.  Sleep was not yet coming.

Cough, cough.  I turned around in my seat.  The coughing sounded funny.

“You cheeky little monkey, you pulled your pigtails out!”  Hang on, where were the pony tail holders.  Oh, there was one, dripping in spit, hanging out of her mouth.  I quickly grabbed it.

But where was the other one?

Funny coughing continued.  Oh my goodness, was she choking on a pony tail holder????  I freaked out a little bit.  Ok, a lot.  Frantically, I searched her and her seat for the rogue hair tie.

Phew.  I found it.  Right at the bottom of her seat, between her fat little (adorable) baby thighs and the side of the seat.

“Maybe if you take your hand out of your mouth, you wouldn’t be coughing like that….”  She’s cheeky.  Maybe she wanted attention instead of going to sleep.  Well, it was working.

BLAAAA (how do you spell the noise for vomiting??)!!!  A bit of fluid came out of her mouth.  She reached her chubby little baby hand into her mouth and (with an awkward look on her face) and searched for something.  Her chubby little baby hand parted from her mouth, holding between her thumb and forefinger a chunk of pineapple.

She held her arm out to me, leaned forward as far as she could and gave me that “Here Mommy, I found something for you” look.  Gee thanks, just what I always wanted.  I took it from her.  What else could I do?  Ew.

She cried a bit and then went to sleep.

She wasn’t asleep for long when she woke suddenly, screaming.

The coughing started again.

Oh please don’t throw up….

BBBLLLLLAAAAATTTTT!!  Oh goodness, it was everywhere.  It kept coming and coming.  She kept retching and retching.  Where did she keep all of this vomit?  I don’t see how it could possibly fit into her stomach.  She was COVERED in vomit.  The baby seat was covered in vomit.  The floor was covered in vomit.

I freaked out a little.  Okay, a lot.  We all know how I feel about vomit.  Okay, maybe you don’t, so I’ll tell you:  Vomit freaks me out.  I have a phobia of vomit.  The only thing I was concerned about in regards to kids is the vomit.   I had been dreading this moment from the moment Hannah was born.  Even my own vomit freaks me out.  Lucky for me I don’t vomit very much (just saying vomit so much is making me shudder).  I hadn’t thrown up (maybe I’ll feel better if I use a different term) since 7th grade until a couple of years ago when I got food poisoning from day old Pad Thai.  I haven’t mustered up the courage to eat any Pad Thai since that fateful night.  I suppose throwing up so violently that noodles come out your nose has that affect.  Then I got food poisoning again from Chicken Man (I hate you Chicken Man) not so long ago and had to get a shot (did I mention I ALSO hate needles?) to stop the vomiting.  I HATE VOMIT.  I would rather lie completely still for a whole week, nothing to look at, nothing to do, then vomit just once.  Yuck.

Anyway, back to the story….

Freaking out, I told (probably yelled, I don’t know) Aaron to pull over.  Sure, we were on a Freeway going 110Km an hour, but Hannah had what seemed to be 3 days worth of food pouring out of her.

I’m pretty sure she was still going when pulled over.  I don’t know which one of us unbuckled the child seat.  I assume I did.  Maybe I blocked it out of my memory.  It was COVERED in vomit.  I quickly put her over my knees and patted her back.  I wanted to make sure she got it all out and wasn’t choking on anything.  She was screaming blue murder.  I don’t know what passing cars thought as they sailed by us, Me squatting by the side of the road, small child across my knees screaming while I patted her.  Maybe it didn’t look like patting.  Maybe they thought we were pulled over to spank a small child.  Oh goodness. I hope no one calls docs….

Great, now I was covered in vomit also.  I took the vomit drenched dress of the screaming child who held out her outstretched arms in my direction, wanting me to give her a comforting cuddle in spite of the fact the beneath the dress, she also was covered in vomit.  Oh dear, what do I do?  I wiped her off first.  Then I gave her a cuddle.  I’m terrible.

The car seat was soaked, but we were on the side of the freeway in the middle of…well, I’m not sure where we were.  Somewhere between Surfers Paradise and Byron Bay. We had to put her back in the seat.  We exhausted our supply of wipes, trying our darndest to excavate the mountain of vomit on the baby seat.  Shudder.  It was still soaking wet.  At least the chunks were gone.

Speaking of chunks, the incident produced some startling (and unwanted) observations:

1. Judging by the end result, Hannah doesn’t seem to chew.  At all.

2. Raisins/sultanas turn back into grapes after being in the stomach for a while.

3. There are whole corn kernels in the Heinz Lamb and Vegetable 10-15 month baby food.

5. Babies stomachs seem to hold more than most adults.  I wonder where they keep their other internal organs?

6. I handled the “my child is vomiting” situation much better than I ever expected.

We put Hannah back in the car seat and continued on our way, desperate to find a service (gas) station, that hopefully stocks baby wipes and some form of cloths.

Just down the road, we found one.  I went in, reeking of spew, a giant, chunky wet patch on the front of my dress.  Darn it, no baby wipes.  At least they had wet ones.  Humph, they were 6 bucks.  Ripped off….  I hope I was just being paranoid and no one could actually smell me, but I honestly think HOW COULD THEY NOT???!!  We cleaned up some more and continued on our way.

Cough, cough, cry.  Oh goodness, here we go again.  How could she possibly have ANYTHING else left in her tummy????  This time it was mostly water (I got her to drink some after losing that much fluid before), with more chunks.  Never in my life have I seen so much puke.  Ew.

Me in Trish's dress. Aaron thought it was hilarious

I don’t know how Hannah would possibly have any energy after all the puking, but she played rather happily (after we changed her into the only other thing we happened to have in the nappy bag, her swimmers) at YaYa’s.  Aaron and I, on the other hand, set about cleaning up the festy smelling rental car and baby seat.  Despite having a removable cover, then a foam layer, the actual plastic under all of that was full of vomit.  Luckily Trish had a hose.  And a washing machine.  And a dryer.  And a dress for me to borrow.

Hannah had one strawberry, and then the vomiting started.  Again.  All over YaYa’s (sorry, in case you’re wondering, Trish and YaYa are the same person.  Trish is Aaron’s Mum, but we get Hannah to call her YaYa as she already has a Grandma that she sees every day.  And Trish is half greek.) floor.  And her dress.  Booya for us putting her catch all bib on “just in case.”

Maybe I was being over protective, overly freaking out, overly worried, but after losing so much fluid, I was freaking out for her.  We decided to take her to the hospital.  A doctors office was not an option, it was 6 something PM on a Saturday night.

Zoe wasn't allowed in the hospital so she sooked outside

They took her weight, temperature, heart rate, listened to her chest, checked in her ears, etc.  They gave her an electrolyte iceblock.  At first she screwed up her cute little face at it’s random saltiness, but then she liked it.  She ate the whole half that they gave her, plus an actual whole one.  I quietly freaked out, expecting the spew to start again any second.  It didn’t.  Relief.  They told us to come back if she developed a fever, or starting vomiting again.  Fair enough, except that we were driving back to the Gold Coast straight away, then flying to Sydney the next day.

Hannah slept all the way back to the hotel in the nicely cleaned baby seat.  She woke up at 2am screaming her lungs out.  I gave her an entire tommy tippy straw cup of water, which she pretty much inhaled before going back to sleep.  We were quite worried that Hannah and I would not be able to fly back home the next day (Aaron would have to, he would have to go back to work).  What if she starts vomiting again?  We can’t go on the plane if she’s vomiting….

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.

38 weeks

Pregnancy: 38 weeks 1 day
Total weight gain: 16.5kg (36.37lbs)
Baby size (approx) head to foot: 49.8cm (19.6in) although all the websites and books differ a bit on the baby size and weight guesstimate
Baby weight (approx): 3.1kg (6.8lbs)

38 weeks, almost there!!!!!!!!! I’ve now had a taste of the hospital after spending 3 hours there on Friday night. I had a bright red bleed (not a whole lot of blood), so I called the hospital straight away. Anytime you are bleeding they want you to come in (unless it is old blood with lots of mucus which at this late in pregnancy, would be the mucus plug. Eww…). Hmmm…should we bring the hospital bag? We decided that we should, just in case. Oh, and the bag with all the snacks and drinks (very important!). We did have to add some things to it first, as it wasn’t quite finished. The bag now lives in the car so it will always be ready. We arrived at 10pm, and they took me to a room which seemed to be used as some sort of check up/recovery/waiting for the doctor room that held 4 beds with curtains around each one (Aaron was parking the car). I was hooked up to a fetal heartbeat monitor and contraction monitor by a midwife as soon as I got there. We found the fetal heartbeat monitor is kinda like a campfire, you just can’t stop watching it. Then the questions started. “Is the bleed from high in your vagina, or low.” Um…if I knew that, I wouldn’t need to be here now would I? “When was your last anti-d shot (because I have a negative blood type)?” Hmmm… week before last? You have my chart right there in your hand, why don’t you open it?? “Why did you get your last anti-d shot?” Because they told me to. I certainly didn’t invite a shot in my butt. What kind of a question is that? How am I supposed to answer that? “Where is your placenta.” Now the only reason I knew the answer to that question is because I had an ultrasound to find out if it was too low still. I’m quite sure that normally, people don’t know that. Seriously lady, have a gander at my file that is in your hot little hands, all this info and more is contained there. “What were you doing when you started bleeding.” Oh the embarrassing question… I had just finished using the epi-no. I figured this is why I was bleeding, just a bit of over zealous inflation resulting in a little tear, but they have to be sure…. She said the baby is doing great, it seems like i’ve just had a small tear low down, not anything to do with the baby or my cervix, but I would need to wait for the doctor for the final “you can go home now.” And so we waited…. And waited…. Apparently the ward was busy that night. Lots of babies being born. A couple of times I heard faint screaming followed closely by little baby cries. The rooms are mostly soundproof at least. Meanwhile, the person to the left of me (only separated by a curtain) was also attached to a fetal heart rate monitor, only her baby’s heart rate was going crazy and kept setting off an alarm (which was driving us nuts, it was so loud, and continuously going off). Seems she can’t go home until her baby’s heart rate settles down into a normal range. A bit later, they wheeled someone in who had just had a baby and then gone into theatre for a small surgery. Some of her placenta did not come out and was stuck inside. She had to have it removed surgically and then they inflated a balloon inside her uterus to prevent it from collapsing (or something along those lines. Your only separated by a curtain, so you can hear everything, but at the same time, do you try actively not to hear, to you just casually listen, do you actively listen to find out what sort of problems you can have in your own labour, what do you do? I didn’t hear every single work, so I’m not 100% sure about why the balloon was there, or when it would be removed. We could hear her baby crying, so it too was there with her. Every time Mushi moved around, his heart rate would go up, then back down again when he stopped. That is normal though. We were also amused watching the contraction monitor. It was usually quite low, between 10 and 20 (not that we know what those numbers meant), but then it climbed all the way to 80 for a little bit, then went back down. I didn’t feel any pain or anything, my belly just felt a bit tight if you touched it. Hello Braxton Hicks. I thought I’d only had one of those (because I had one that was quite painful), but I’ve been proven wrong. I just didn’t know that I was having them. Good uterus, try not to cause me too much pain.

Finally, 3 hours after coming in, we finally saw the doctor. I had to remove my clothing from my lower half to have an invasive exam. In goes Mr. Speculum, another person is there to shine a torch into my nether region, and the doc checks my cervix. No sign of trauma, cervix hasn’t started softening or dilating yet, and all is well. I just tore myself a little tiny bit with my epi-no (I got it pretty big, but I got it the same size the day before. It really does feel like giving birth when you push it out when it’s fairly big. Only it’s not as big as a baby’s head, so it gives you that feeling without all the pain. I feel much more empowered knowing the kind of feeling there will be though. It’s not so scary anymore). Doctors orders “No sex or epi-no for a few days to let yourself heal, then you will be fine.” We gathered all of our stuff (I brought water and a magazine, had taken off my shoes and coat), and then Aaron went to go get the car. Just when I thought we were free, the nurse came up and said to wait a couple of minutes, I may need a blood test. Awesome. Blood test at 1am while Aaron has already left to go get the car. Sure enough, they did want to take my blood. Wanted to make sure I had enough antibodies for the rh factor (you get them from the anti-d shot). I thought maybe I’d have to wait ages again for the doctor, but they were all about to perform a c-section, so they got to me right away so they could then go operate. And finally we got to go home. I think I will be more comfortable in the delivery room now after spending 3 hours in the hospital bed though, so it wasn’t all bad.

We had a very busy day the next day. We woke up late, had an hour and 15 minutes to shower, eat, get ready, grocery shop, get some weight plates and weight bench, then get to our friends house for lunch. Needless to say, we were 45 minutes late, but that was still a really good effort I thought. Next up was a manicure party for another friends birthday (for me, Aaron stayed at the other friends house and played wii with the boys). We gave ourselves lots of time to get there, but it was pouring down rain and Sydney drivers are not so used to that, so traffic was crawling. Then we discovered none of us had the unit number we needed to go to and we couldn’t get a hold of the boys to find out for us. Eventually we did though. We entered an apartment building, but oddly it didn’t say it’s address anywhere (helpful, I know). We decided chances are this is probably the right place, so we buzzed the unit number. Some man answered and didn’t seem to speak a lot of english, or just had no idea what was going on, but buzzed us up. Hmmm…. We got in the lift where we finally found the address of the building (on a little plaque thing in the lift), and found we were not in the right place. We’re not quite sure why he buzzed randoms like us up, but whatever floats your boat. We didn’t go up though, so he was probably very confused after that. We did find the right place, and had a good time at the party.

As soon as I got home, Aaron and I were going to visit Grandma and The Jess for dinner. It was still raining out, and I was nervous, but it was time for me to drive all the way to Penrith (I’m learning to drive our manual car). I successfully got us there in one piece (after missing the entrance to the motorway and having to turn around). Long day, but good. Yesterday we had a good rest.

I have been studying the “Becoming an Australian Citizen” guide this week as I take the test tomorrow. Australians don’t even know the answers to a lot of the questions. I don’t really know why I need to know which Australian’s over the years have won the nobel prize, why and what year, in order to be a citizen. Wouldn’t speaking english fluently be more useful since Australia is an english speaking country? Some of the questions and info is good, especially if you come from a completely different culture and have no idea what would be expected of you as a citizen, but then some of it is just ridiculous. Oh well, I have to take the test to become a citizen, so wish me luck! FYI, the national flower is the golden wattle, and Australia’s constitution came into effect 1 Jan 1901.