Sunday 31 July 2011

Hypnobirting. The key and the secret...

So this week things have moved on regarding #chapter21. Slowly but surely I am making firm decisions and making an action plan regarding OUR future. I am very lucky that the boyf is almost as passionate as I am about the way that our pregnancy and birth has changed our life, and the realisation that this wonderful experience could be open to most families. *not all

It is like we have stumbled across a secret that we are ready to share with the world. So the mission begins. It will take time, and Im sure I will struggle to keep the focus at times, but for now we are so excited. Hypnobirthing made my home birth possible and I didn't really know what I was doing. I believe passionately, that given the right support, a fear free, positive birth is available to most families, my dream is to make it accessible to all. 

While my enthusiasm is in full swing I have been researching at every free moment, Hypnobirthing - the facts. A study is already being completed at The Central Lancashire University as the whether Hypnobirthing on the NHS is a viable option.  There is still very little research completed on the effects of Hypnobirthing and those that have been done are generally in the States. All of the facts that I can find demonstrate fewer incidences of medical intervention and a much higher percentage of having an active birth with a Hypnobirthing mother. 

As a typical Libran I wanted to get a balanced view, so I searched the internet for the negative side of Hypnobirthing.  Could it be perceived by some as dangerous? unorthodox? Silly? 
Well search I did.... and what did I find?... Nothing! Nada! Not one negative article!
 The most damaging piece of material I could find was an article in the New York Times from 2006 when Hypnobirth was relatively new. Despite the article being in overall favour of Hypnobirth techniques, the report covered the fact that many Doctors are still wary due to the fear of litigation. Litigation from what? 
Dr Jeffrey M. Segil an obstetrician who offers the HypnoBirthing option to every patient in his practice, states, "Women should not be set up to feel that they've failed if they can't follow through to a totally natural delivery,"

Well of course! As I have stressed to anyone who will listen.. Hypnobirthing / Home birth / pain free labour is not for everyone... but surely it should be an option open to all. This is my dream, my secret I want to share. There is another way. Labour doesn't have to be all 'One born every minute' full of screams and terror. It can be, it has been, and it is! the most beautiful, life changing experience. It has changed my life... and now I want it to change yours ....  xx



Friday 29 July 2011

Follow your dreams

Over the past month or so, our little family has faced a scare. It was the type of scare that most people face from time to time in their life, the type that questions your mortality. Yesterday - Thank God - We were given the all clear.

During the time that we were 'waiting' my head was filled with thoughts of 'What if?' I made promises to myself to do X,Y,Z. To make the most of the time we have left, whether it be five years or fifty years. And then we got the all clear... Relief, followed by gratitude.  Then back to everyday life. The washing, ironing, baby feeding, changing etc, etc, etc.

It is so easy to forget and to let those promises slip away. At the top of stairs in our house is a sign that says ... Follow your dreams... I love that sign. Mainly because it looks cool, but also because the boyf bought it for me when we were not living together. Never before has that sign meant so much.

So now I am going to work hard to achieve X,Y and Z. Why do we wait until the worst happens before we make the change? I do not want this just to be a pipe dream, I want it to be a reality.

So now I will promise to make things happen and follow our dreams ....  WTS...

Tuesday 26 July 2011

Time is my everything..

I was going to blog about the following things, Chapter21, Following my dreams, Changing our world, MEN!, the night out, date night.  I have had all of these blogs in my head for the past week, whirling round and round and round they go. I think of sentences and funny headlines and follow it with Must blog about that later. 


Later. Everything happens later. I never seem to have time. I feel like the White Rabbit.."I'm late I'm late, for a very important date. No time to say hello goodbye, I'm late I'm late I'm late"   This is of course my fault. I always want to fit too much in, I want to do everything and Im constantly playing catch up. I always have to apologise for being late and cancelling dates, and too be honest its exhausting. 


This stress junkie addiction of mine has become worse since I became a mother. Instead of slowing down (as I promised I would) I have started to fill my days with even more. Baby groups have become my latest addiction, I have to do at least one a day. The rest of my time is split between, feeding, playing / singing, endless washing, eating, Twittering, trying to maintain the housework (badly), researching my new life, reading the three books I have now started and not finished, shopping and my favourite... sleeping.  


I have 5 months before I go back to work and I feel like it is a time bomb. I must fill every day, every hour, every minute. I'm slowly starting to face the reality that there isn't enough time left. I need to prioritise and focus. 


If I really want to change my life for the better then there is only one person who can do that for me, and that is me. I need to learn to say no and use my time to my advantage or my dreams are going to fade away. Your time is yours. Mine is mine. 


As said by one of the greats... Time is my everything. 

Wednesday 20 July 2011

A FUN night out?

So Im going out on Saturday. OUT out. Like dressed up out. Drinking wine out. That sort of night out. It has been 14 months since my last night out... Have things really changed that much?

Aaaarggghhhh.. Im getting stressed just thinking about it..

1) What will I wear. In the past I would have simply bought a new outfit. Thats what I did for every night out, but maternity pay will not stretch that far.. So it will be my wardrobe.. everything from the past is too small and too inappropriate.  Mummy's can't possibly wear that!!

2) My hair. Oh my goodness. I love to change my hair, it is my thing, I love it. So I wanted to change my hair for the night out, but I can't justify that! Not for one night out..anyway, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I've made the appointment at the hairdressers twice, and cancelled both times. I'm pathetic. One minute Im full of confidence and YES we are going to do it... and the next.. No, no we are not. Anyway the hair appointment would be two hours and that's too long to be away from the frog and my boobs.

3) My make up. I havn't got any!! When I was preggers my skin was terrible so I stopped making an effort with make up to be honest. Is it okay to use 12month old foundation on your skin??

4) What to talk about. Okay this is a biggy. People are getting sick to death of me talking about my boobs! I see it in their faces 'Oh god, she's talking about breastfeeding again'. But it is such a big deal when you are doing it 10 times a day!! It is amazing how much it consumes my life now. But I have made a promise not to talk about it on the night out. So what else is there..... errrmmm... Poo? Nappys? Sleep patterns? The cost of breastpads - you see there I go.. slipping into boob talk again!

5) Dancing. Don't even go there. I've had MTV on all week in an attempt to cram study current dance songs. Seriously, if it doesn't feature on the latest baby Einstein CD, then I probably havn't heard it. And I sure as hell wont know how to dance to it!

6) Alcohol. Hmmm. If go out, I will have to drink. Otherwise Im not going to be able to relax and I certainly wont be able to have a good time. But drinking and breastfeeding is sooooo hard. First of all you have to pump for two weeks in advance just to make sure that there is enough in the freezer to cover the 24hour 'drink period'. Secondly if you don't feed for 24 hours your boobies hurt. They really hurt. So then you have to pump again. Pump and Dump. It's no good if it's full of alcohol, so down the drain it goes - what a waste. It makes me cry to think about it. It makes me feel so guilty.

Well now that we have mentioned it, we may as well talk about it. The awful awful thing that is Mummy guilt. This is my real problem. I feel so selfish for even considering enjoying a night out, drinking alcohol and being away from my frog for a few hours. She needs her mummy to be there, and I want to be there. Just talking about this night out I feel like a selfish cow, I sound like a selfish cow... not like a mummy.

Of course Boyf wants me to go... I think he is afraid I'm turning into a frumpy mummy so is virtually pushing me out the door. So Im going to go. The freezer is stocked with Exspresso, and I know the frog will be fine with her dad.
On Saturday night, I'll squeeze into dress which is too small, I'll cover my face with last years war paint, I'll bore my friends with my boobs, I'll be drunk after two drinks, Feel uncomfortable and old all night, end up home by 11pm. Probably wake the frog and fall into bed, pissing off the boyf.
I'm sure the next day, as the frog is drinking her expressed milk, I'll be full of hatred for myself because of my selfish ways. But I hope, I hope that for a small part of the debauchery... I may feel like me.

Monday 18 July 2011

Now I know how superman feels.

Okay so I don't have a cape, and I certainly don't wear my underwear outside my clothing but one thing that Superman and I have in common is that we both have a Total Identity Crisis!

This starts with the old me. I was very selfish back then, not in a nasty way, just in a "I've only got myself to think about" way. When I found out I was pregnant I was living in a lush city centre apartment on the 12th floor with views that covered three counties. I spent my money in Selfridges and probably tripled the weekly recommendation of alcohol units. I have to say, life was good. I was an avid follower of fashion and all things shallow. Oh god I hate myself!

I don't know when things changed but here is an example of how they have... On my twitter account I used to follow Z listers and people from the fashion world. Some of them are still on my list. I was reading an update from a well known Fashionista the other day, and I was disgusted. I thought 'Is that all you have to worry about?' Their shallowness made me sick. That whole world does now.. but this was me, just over 12 months ago.

So anyway, here we are. The Frog is almost four months old now and I am ready to return to a little bit of the old me. I mean that is who boyf fell in love with, who my friends know me as and lets face it... that IS me. So I have planned a night out. A night out with the girls.. easy enough.. yes?

No. no it is not easy enough, its bloody impossible! First of all I hate being away from the frog, even for an hour. We are joined at the hip (or boob) and totally dependent on each other. And secondly there is the whole drinking issue. I have only drank once since having the frog, at her Christening and that was a bloody disaster. Breastfeeding and drinking do not go together - no matter how well prepared you are. And thirdly, I'm worried I won't enjoy it. I'm forcing myself into doing this to prove that I'm more than just a mummy, but if I'm being honest it fill me with dread. .. Que another blog!

I'll tell you a secret... When I was eight months pregnant and feeling huge. I went to Ann Summers and bought a load of new underwear.  I wanted to feel sexy again. I wanted to feel attractive again. So I was planning after the baby was born, to get myself into shape and look all yummy mummy in my shiny new bra's and pants. Four months in, where is that underwear? Hanging in the wardrobe, still with tags.

I'm having a total confidence crisis. Twice I have planned this night out.. Done everything, text all my friends, created a facebook page.. I've even booked a booth at the swanky wine bar. The first time I booked it I just panicked the week before and cancelled it. Then I felt stupid, I guess I feel as though I'm losing a bit of me amongst the breastpads and sudacrem. So I've re-booked it all. And this time I am going to go.

The problem is, I don't know who I am anymore. I guess that is something which I took for granted before, knowing yourself, is a gift which doesn't come as easy as it should. I feel as though I have the old me sat on my left shoulder looking like a hot funky Devil and a wholesome Waltons-style Angel sat on my right shoulder. They are both screaming at me at equal volumes and I'm sat somewhere in the middle with a headache.

If the old me was giving me advice she would say "You're still you... Just with a baby". Well thats bollocks. Having a baby doesn't just make your boobs bigger and your ass wider. It totally changes your perception on life, it makes you want to change the world. Well your world anyway. I want my daughter to grow up in a better world than I did, and to achieve that, I need to be better.

I no longer live in a city centre apartment, I have a nice semi-detached house, in a nice village. I follow nice people on Twitter and I think, no, I know, that my views are less shallow.  I need to accept that I am never going to be the Devil again, but I don't want to be an angel either. So I need to find myself... I know I'm here somewhere. But for now I'll just keep looking..

Friday 15 July 2011

My 9 1/2 month canal.

This is how my brain works. It's not for everyone, but this is me.

My life is full of circles now. It's currently a three hour (ish) circle. It's actually more like two and a half hours but I like to say three as it makes me sound more organised. The circle starts when the frog wakes up. It's usually about 7:30, but sometimes its as early as 6am, other times it can be as late at 9 - although this is very rare.
So we wake up and she feeds, for about half an hour. I like that morning feed, it's probably the longest feed of the day. After the feed the frog is so happy. She is so content. I get about an hour, an hour to get dressed / eat / clean. Do what ever I can in that hour of contentment.
Then the shouting begins. The frog doesn't really cry, she just shouts "whaaaa," "Whooooaaaa" "Whhhoooooooaaaa". The shouts get closer together and louder as she gets more annoyed. I look at the clock. An hour and a half, I wish I could push her to two hours, but I know I can't. It's time to move upstairs.
So we go upstairs and frog goes into her cot. She's very good at going down now. Dummy in mouth, Molly Dolly in arms. She shouts a little more into her dummy until her eyes close and she goes to sleep.
Now I get about thirty minutes. She isn't a sound sleeper and is woken quite easily. But if she gets a thirty minute power nap then she will feel lovely when she wakes.
This is the first of my circles - sleep, feed, play,sleep.

My next circle is slightly bigger. It lasts 24 hours. It starts when the frog wakes up. We go round the smaller circles until about 5pm. Then we are home (hopefully) and I will be trying the keep the frog awake. She will be really grumpy now as she gets more tired. 6:15pm and its time for a bath. Frog does love a bath, she loves the massage afterwards even more. She lies still, watching me intently as I rub in her cream and recite "The hip bone's connected to the back bone...." - This is my favourite time of the 24hour circle. Its just me and the frog and she looks up at me with trust and love. After bath and massage time we have a little cry before its final feed and bed. She feeds again at 11(ish) 3(ish) 5(ish) and then we are back to the beginning.
This is my second circle. - Up, daytime, bathtime, bedtime, sleep / feed time, up.

Even my weeks are turning into circles. Monday - Coffee and NCT chat. Tuesday - Swimming. Wednesday - Sensory room. Thursday - Baby group. Friday - family / friends day. The weekends are generally for the three of us, the boyf, the frog and me. And then we are back to Monday.

Round and round and round we go. The only thing that is linear is my timeline. My maternity leave. I know it is going to end. It had a beginning, and it will have an end. This is what I force myself to think about. 9 1/2 months we have, the frog and I. It runs from March until January when the circle's will be no more and the line will come to an end.

I can see how it can become monotonous, these circles. Three hours, 24 hours, 7 days. round and round and round. But whenever I get fed up, and bored of going round I remember that the line will come to an  end.

I imagine my circles as large bubbles, kind of like those Zorb balls that people do these day. I imagine me and frog in our Zorbs, travelling along a long straight canal. At the start of the canal is March and we will have to get off in January. Every milestone that we achieve is a canal bridge and we are so lucky to pass under it together. In January the frog will carry on the canal, but it will be time for Mummy to get off. Time for Mummy to leave the canal. Then the frog will be in childcare, and someone else will be passing under the bridges with her, (while Mummy is at work anyway).

So next time I feel as if I'm going insane, I'll think about the end of the canal and hope somehow our bubbles can carry on together.  

The 3am Secret

The 3am secret.
As the world sleeps and the streets are dark,
we share a secret that is only ours.
It starts with a stir in a crib nearby,
I move quickly before the stir turns to a cry.
I hold her close, my skin is still warm,
Her body relaxes and she turns towards.
Her mouth opens wide and I pull her onto my breast
two hearts together, chest to chest.
As she suckles and feeds, her eyes meet mine,
Trust, security, a secret moment in time.
Forget the yawns, the sticky eyes, no sleep.
This moment, this secret is mine to keep. 


Tuesday 12 July 2011

Breastfeeding - The Good, The Bad and The Smugly.

I should start this post by stressing the fact that I am NOT a good example of a breastfeeding mummy. I wish I was because I love breastfeeding and I wish I could be a good example to others, but I have failed in many respects.

I could write pages and pages about breastfeeding but I'm going to try and keep it to one post and fairly brief (ish).

I recently read somewhere that the reason that most people fail at breastfeeding is because they have false expectations of what is required of them. I am certain that this is the reason I fail, I was in such a rush to get my life back, to have our evenings back and to be fabulous with my baby..... I regret this now :-(

When she was first born. I put her straight to the breast and she fed. For the first week, I felt the pulling sensation as she latched, but no cracked nipples, no real pain. We were naturals. I was so proud. So smug, earth mother me, I loved it. I was giving her everything she needed and she was gaining weight rapidly. There is nothing that can compare with the nurturing feeling of satisfying your newborn baby.

But it is hard, it is exhausting and relentless. No one can help you with it, just taking a shower has to be organised around feeds... the baby can literarily never leave your side.

I rarely admit this, but in truth, the frog now has one bottle of formula a day. It was first introduced when she was 6 weeks old, She was hungry all the time. especially in the evening and would be at the breast constantly between 7-10pm. I was so sick of hearing about other babies going to bed at 7pm... sleeping through the night, 4 hour feeds etc etc.. Little did I know, the frog was behaving perfectly normally for a breastfed babe.

After about a week, the guilt got the better of me so I stopped the formula. My body didn't know what the hell was going on, and neither did the frog. I was really struggling to satisfy her, then, the best and the worst thing happened for our breastfeeding journey. At 9 weeks - we went to Cyprus.

Throughout the day Frog was breastfed, it was so easy, by the pool, on a walk, by the sea, just whack out my boob and job done. But I was on holiday, boyf and I wanted to enjoy evening meals, and in all honestly I wanted to enjoy a glass of wine. So again, the one bottle of Formula crept in. On our return home, the guilt hit me again. I didn't want to pump our baby full of chemicals, I should be able to provide everything she needed. I did a further two weeks of exclusive breastfeeding, but it was making me miserable.

If I breastfed, the boyf and I had no time together, I felt guilty that our evenings were always cramped by me lying on the couch, unable to move because she was latched on. If I gave formula I felt guilty I wasn't the mummy I wanted to be and the frog was missing out.

It makes me feel incredibly selfish to say that at 12 weeks I gave in. It coincided with us creating the 'evening routine' which now works for us and the frog seems happier for it. (the routine - not the formula)

In my head the frog is a breastfed baby. She still only has one bottle a day, and I am happy to keep it that way for as long as we need. It's not perfect but neither am I, I am human, we are living in this modern, competitive world and I am doing my best.

If I had my time again, I would never of introduced the bottle at 6 weeks. I would have been stronger and sought help from the right people instead of listening to the advice of the 'bottle bunch'. It has made me passionate about breastfeeding. There is nothing in this world like the feeling of feeding my girl, I love it. I would really really rant about how wonderful it is, and help anyone to keep going. We are at a point now where I find it so enjoyable, I know we wont be able to share this time for ever so I savour  the special moments we have. I so wanted to exclusively breastfeed, I wanted to get to six months and say with pride that no formula had passed her lips. I wont be able to do that now, and this makes me sad and regretful.

Breastfeeding is so wonderful, the first time she fed with her eyes open I almost cried. Recently the frog has started to pull off, look up at me and smile. Its amazing, its beautiful and I know I am so so lucky, if I didn't breastfeed, I wouldn't have had these moments. I love love love it.

Last week in the press there was a debate about the 'breastapo'. Well my opinion (and it is just my opinion) is that HV's are so afraid of upsetting new mums maybe they don't give enough facts about giving up. Prior to us giving the frog that first bottle at 6 weeks, we discussed it with our HV. Although she was encouraging me to continue, she basically said "do whatever makes you happy".  At that point in time this was like a green light to me to say "Do it" "Do it" "Do it".
Maybe if I had been met by the breastapo at that point the Frog would still be exclusively Breastfed. ?

I can't blame anyone else tho, I just wish I knew then what I know now.

Im now being met my the "Is she sleeping through yet?" bunch. Already I have been told "Oh Get her on the bottle." and "Have you tried her on hungry baby milk?" My response?
NO NO and NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! At last I am being strong and doing what I believe is best. Maybe its too late in some respects, but my frog is happy and healthy, and so is her mum.

So next time I'm asked if she is sleeping through, if she goes 4hours between feeds, or if she is a hungry baby I will smile and smugly say "No, but she is breastfed." ;-)

We've cracked it!

So the frog and me are now three months into our journey and I am starting to feel as if I know what I'm doing a little bit.

This is down to her - not me. She has changed. Up until this point, the frog had a real tough time adjusting to life outside the womb. Suddenly she seems to have accepted the world, no longer does she need to be wrapped and bound before she will sleep, and has started to adopt the starfish position.

At last I can lay her down on her playmat and she will happily play alone, without screaming at 180 decibels.

We still have our problems... we have not perfected breastfeeding or timing or sleeping, but we are getting there... and dare I say it.... The swear word.... The word I hated for the first 10 weeks of her life. The horrible word that is... ROUTINE! Yes people we have adopted a routine.

Despite me hating the word and the question "Have you got her in a routine yet?" I  know I can say this with pride. Yes she is in a routine. I am proud of this, because we have not followed a book, or a schedule. I have NEVER done controlled crying and I have done everything at her pace.

So many people told me I was being to soft with her, because I would pick her up when she cried or because I would rock her to sleep, and swaddle her before she was put down. So maybe I was too soft, but for us it worked. The frog trusts me, she knows that I am her mummy and I truly believe she can feel my love.

So, she is an a routine. I could not tell you what she would be doing at 11am or whether I will be late for an appointment. But I know that after she is fed she likes to play, and then she likes a nap. I can read her and she can read me. We know each other and this is what works for us.

I'm so happy that we stuck to our guns and didn't give in to the pressure of 'The Gina Ford Generation' ....So Ms Ford.. I have a very contented little baby and I only have one person to thank for that..

My Frog x

Friday 8 July 2011

Home birth - Part three...

So it begins. We had been on two 3 mile walks on the Thursday, and I had blisters on my feet! That evening boyf's parents had invited us for dinner so off we went for a yummy Thai Green Curry. Now we were particularly stressed out that evening because our boiler had decided to pack up! There we were on the fringe of going into labour, birth pool all set up and no bloody hot water, I couldn’t believe it!!  
On our way home I turned to boyf and said, “I really fancy a glass of wine”. I been pretty much tee-total throughout my pregnancy but that night, something told me I needed to chill out and relax. 
We got home, I had my glass of wine and boyf enjoyed most of the bottle before we went to bed. Still no hot water.  I didn’t sleep, at about midnight I got up thinking I needed to poo. No I didn’t. Five minutes later, I needed the toilet again. No I didn’t. Five minutes later I was back in the bathroom and having a ‘show’. It’s here I thought It’s begun. I started to count the contractions on my Iphone, but they were two minutes apart. Heap of junk I thought, that can’t be right, they can’t be two minutes apart, it’s not even hurting yet. 
Okay, well I didn’t want to wake boyf because apparently your first labour takes ages, and he’d need to sleep of that wine anyway, so I went downstairs to wash up and start to get the room ready. By half past one, boyf had heard me clinking about so came down to investigate. I explained the situation to him and he began to time my contractions. A minute and a half apart, lasting for about 30 seconds. I started to doubt that I was in labour, I still wasn’t in pain and I thought that my excitement had made me get ahead of myself, either way by 2am I decided to call the hospital and they sent out a midwife. 
At 3am the midwife arrived. By now the room was fully set up and my contractions were feeling a lot more intense, I was being physically sick - which I hadn’t expected - and was really feeling the strain now, I was convinced things were really happening. She examined me and I was devastated to find out I was only 2cm dilated! My contractions were really close together and it hurt... surely I was further along than that. She explained that I wasn’t in established labour and left at about 4am. Boyf started to fill the pool, at that point a miracle happened - The hot water started to work!! At 6am I begged Dave to call the hospital again. I needed to push.
The same midwife came back, bless her, I think she had only just got home and was back at my door again. She re-examined me and I was 8cm and ready to hit the pool.  

In the pool Dave kissed me on the forehead. I realized it was just the two of us in that moment. Gill and Helen were on the other side of the room and had kindly left us to the privacy each other. I will never forget that moment in time.
My contractions suddenly changed, they became unimaginably intense - not painful - just completely animalistic. It was time to push. After an hour of pushing in the pool, everything seemed to come to a stop. I got out of the pool and after a couple more pushes our daughter was born, right there on the dining room floor.  

We do plan for more children and I sincerely hope they will be born at home. I don’t think the home birth experience is for everyone, I think it takes work, research and commitment.  But if you are prepared to work for it, then it is the most amazing experience ever, and it is completely yours, completely personal and completely natural. Simply wonderful.

Welcome to the world Frog xxx

Tuesday 5 July 2011

home birth - Part two..

So here I was on the Journey of home birth. Every birth is so personal, it is something that you will never forget, I wanted ours to be perfect, so I  quickly began to research on-line and read anything I could about the home birth experience. There were a few things we needed to buy, towels, sheets, tarpaulin. But really that was about it. As my 36 week appointment loomed, I decided to pack my hospital  bag just in case. At 36 weeks, the midwife came to our house to discuss how the home birth would work. She brought a bag full of hospital sheets and gloves and we discussed where and how the birth would take place. She was so laid back by the whole idea, my confidence grew and grew. 
Next stop was to order a birth pool.  Aileen at NCT gave me the number of a company not too far away, I made the order.
So with the pool on order and the towels bought, all that was left was to wait for labour day  to arrive. 
Okay so there were some things that I did, during that wait, in preparation for the big day.  For me there were three elements that were invaluable for my home birth, I honestly believe that I could not of got through that day if it had not been for the following three things. 
  1. Pregnancy Yoga.
  2. Hypno-birthing.
  3. Exercise / walking. 
I started Pregnancy Yoga when I was 14 weeks pregnant, and I went almost every week up until the week of the birth. I also did a one day Yoga-birth workshop at 38 weeks. The weekly Yoga sessions worked for me because not only did they help me to feel calm throughout my pregnancy, but I also used a number of exercises at home in the week leading up to the birth, which I am convinced assisted with my delivery. The one day workshop was great as Boyf came along (he would say under duress) and it prepared us both by giving us tips on positions to use at each stage of labour.
During one of my Yoga sessions we were lucky enough to have a guest speaker, Katy Redford, who had started Hypnobirthing sessions at Stepping Hill Hospital in Stockport. Katy explained the concept of Hypnobirth and the idea that fear makes us tense, which as a result makes labour slower and more painful. The idea of hypnobirthing really appealed to me, however I just couldn’t afford to pay the £200 fee to go on the course. So instead, I downloaded a couple of Hypnobirth sessions onto my Iphone and fell asleep to them each night. Sometimes I would listen to them in the bath, and if nothing else, they made me feel very calm and positive about the looming B-day.
I had done masses of reading during my pregnancy and knew that exercise would serve me well. I walked as much as I could, and in the last week I was walking at least 3 miles, sometimes twice a day. I could feel the pressure building up in my pelvis and I knew that the baby was very low. Come B-day this really helped as I had a very quick labour, the baby was in the right position and I had the endurance to stay upright. 
You may not believe me, but I knew the day I was going to go into labour. Don’t ask me how. I just knew. I knew I would have exactly a week from finishing work and I knew it would be a Friday. So, the week leading up to the birth, I tidied the house from top to bottom. (This wasn’t so much for the baby, but because I knew we would have so may visitors!)  I stocked up the freezer. Bought Tea and biscuits for the midwives and set about transferring our home into a labour ward.

Home birth part one...

The first time the idea of Home Birth ever entered my head was during my 12 week appointment at the hospital. The midwife went through the usual questions ‘Any heart disease in the family?’ ‘Was the pregnancy planned?’ ‘where would you like to have the baby?’ I quickly replied ‘Here, at Warrington Hospital’ 
She looked at me ‘Not a home birth?’ 
I was taken aback. No. At Hospital. - Thats where people have babies isn’t it?
The idea of having a home birth had previously never even occurred to me. But as I left that appointment and we got into the car, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. No I thought, its just too scary. Home birth’s are just what hippy women did on their second or third child.  And anyway, surely it would be putting the baby at risk.
A few weeks later I was at work when a colleague of mine, Dom was discussing his wife’s home birth. The conversation didn’t involve me, but I was listening intently. 
Half an hour later she was in the bath, and me and the boy were downstairs watching the football”. I plucked up the courage to ask him about it. My colleague then gave me all the details of how wonderful and personal this birth experience was, and this was a man’s man, there was nothing soft about Dom. Yet here he was gleaming from ear to ear as he revisited the memory of the birth of his son. 
When you are pregnant, people cannot wait to tell you their birth stories, and I lapped it up. I loved hearing all about peoples experiences. Shortly after this, I was talking to another male colleague, Paul. Who was telling me his experience of the birth of his son. Again he described it as the happiest day of his life, but then finished the story by saying “It was really surreal though, 40 minutes after Ethan was born, I was in my car driving home.” Their baby had been born out of visiting hours, so Paul could not stay. Once everyone had been cleaned up he had to go home, leaving his wife and new born baby in the hospital.
I knew at this point I secretly wanted our baby to be born at home, I darn’t admit this to myself, never mind to the Boyf. So when I was 30 weeks pregnant we started our NCT classes. During probably the third session, our lovely class teacher, Aileen, asked if anyone was thinking about home birth. To the surprise of both Boyf and myself I put my hand up. Ha, that was the first time I’d realized it was something I seriously wanted and Boyf's face was a picture.    
We finished the session and went home to discuss it. To my complete surprise he was all for it, and actually thought it sounded like a great idea. His support gave me the confidence to believe in myself, and so we had together made the decision, we were having a home birth. 
Next stop was to tell our midwife and our family. Our midwife was lovely and again really supportive, our families took the news well; “Right...ok.” my Mum said, behind her smile I could see she was thinking it was just another of my harebrained ideas. The in-laws had a similar reaction. They were a generation apart from us. In the 70’s when they were having children, medical science was a great new thing, neither of our parents could understand why we would want to come away from that. But by now I had made the decision and I was going with it....

Being Pregnant.

The pregnancy went well. Although I hate to admit I didn't enjoy being pregnant. I don't think I was very good at it, I found it very hard being preggers. I really enjoy diet, fitness and feeling full of energy and life. When I was pregnant I just felt ... well crap really.
I was extremely tired all the time, bad skin, bad hair, bloated I had it all. I was sick throughout the first 7 months and found the only thing that eased the nausea was eating. Unsurprisingly I gained 3 1/2 stone and honestly just felt awful. In the last three months I had extreme swelling in my hands and feet and developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.
Despite my discomfort, the actual pregnancy was very healthy (must have been all those hormones) my blood pressure remained low and the baby was growing at the perfect rate. I walked a lot towards the end and by week 29 the baby had engaged. By week 36 it was deeply engaged. Uncomfortable for me, but a great sign for the pregnancy.

The baby arrived two days early. (which I knew it would) and to the surprise of our midwife, our parents, and most of all me, we had decided to have our baby at home....

Sunday 3 July 2011

Your Eyes....

What colour are your eyes?
What world will they see?
Will they be brown like him?
or greeny/blue like me?
So much is revealed by the eyes,
the vortex to the soul.
I hope your happy baby,
though your yet an hour old.
I cant wait to see your eyes my babe,
to see myself in you.
I love you though I'm yet to see,
if your pink or your blue.
My eyes must tell a story,
of hope and love for which I'd die.
I can't wait to meet you angel,
the apple of my eye.

How can it be...

How can it be that I love you so,
when I'm yet to see your eyes,
I see your face every night,
as my lids close and I dream off to sleep,
but to touch you, to hold you,
That is the dream I am yet to have.
How do you smell?
What noise do you make?
What colour are your eyes?
To say 'I love you', isn't enough,
You are my world,
though you are yet to be born in mine.
How can that be?

Friday 1 July 2011

I'm So Grateful

So... we organised our life,bought a house to live in together, told our excited families and set on the road to becoming parents.

The pregnancy wasn't planned, and just to add to the complicated situation, I had just started a new role within my job, one which I was very lucky to get. Everything was just so messy, I'll be honest... this pregnancy did not come with fantastic timing! Then when I was 9 weeks pregnant my feelings towards the pregnancy changed.

I had quite bad morning sickness, and the usual symptoms like sore boobs exhaustion etc.. I woke up at 9 weeks and all feelings of morning sickness had gone. I felt my boobs, they were not sore. I had woken up that day and I just didn't feel pregnant! 'Oh no'. I thought the worst. The peanut had gone, I presumed I'd lost the baby.

I'll never forget that feeling, sat on my bathroom floor in tears. I had gone from, not being over the moon about my circumstances to suddenly I wanted this baby so bad. I would do anything, anything to protect it. Just please, please god, don't take my baby away.

I had to wait over the weekend to have an emergency scan (BTW thank god for the NHS, we are so lucky to have that system in this country). Monday came, and we went to the hospital for an early scan. I lay on the bed while the sonographer tried to find the peanut. It felt like a lifetime, she was moving that thing about, searching, searching, searching... and then eventually she calmly said, "Here it is, look you can see the heartbeat". I looked at the screen, and there it was, a tiny pin head, flashing in hope. Our baby had a heartbeat and was A-OK!

Ah I was and am so grateful. Never again would I have a negative thought about this wonderful life that we had created. And I promise, promise, promise to always do my best by our little baby...Our journey for a better life together had begun....