A Labour of Love?

So i was surfing over at http://www.mamamia.com.au/ yesterday and i came across an article entitled " Do Men Belong In The Labour Ward ? " And, i have to say, its gotten up my nose a bit. The gist of the article is that a respected obstetrician has implied that men get in the way during labour and shouldnt be permitted into the ward during the birthing process. Its not so much the article itself that has incensed me ( i'm sure this guy made his big statement months ago, so its kind of old news to me... ) but rather the discussion in the comments section afterwards.

The majority of the comments are overwhelming in favour of having men in the delivery ward, and i am too, thats not my problem. My problem is in the way that a lot of women in the comments have judged men who havent been present for the birth of their children. How.Bloody.Dare.They? I'm sure these same women would jump and down and scream bloody murder if anyone dare judge them on any facet of their parenting, but they feel its ok to judge the fathers who, for whatever reason, havent made it into the delivery suite with their wives/partners/mothers of their children. One woman even described blokes who dont want to be in there as " cavemen ". Others have suggested ( subtley ) that men who arent present for the birth of their children mustnt be good fathers - if they dont want to be there for the very beginning, how are they going to be with the rest of the whole parenting thing?

I have to say - those kind of comments have mad me really mad. I've already written the in depth story of my sons birth here ( feel free to have a read if you havent already ) so i wont double up on the details but Mick was NOT present in the room for my labour. And, frankly, i'm glad about it. We spoke about what would happen when i went into labour, and from the get go Mick said he would prefer not to be there. When i asked why, he explained that he's very squeamish and aside from that, he wasnt sure how he would be able to cope with seeing me in pain. He was man enough to admit that, rather than be the tower of masculine strength that society insists our men should be, he would probably crumble in the face of a difficult birth and probably vomit, pass out or both. It wasnt that he didnt WANT to be there, because he loved his unborn baby and could not wait to meet him, but rather that his physical limits would prevent him being much help. And, though i was a little shocked at first, after thinking it through, i agreed - if he was going to get whoozy, or spewy, or go silent and just sit across the room and stare at me like i was some hideous, terrifying lady-beast, what use would he be to me? He'd be more of a hindrance and a distraction, for me and the midwives, than he would be a help, so i was quite content to say " Babe - you just make sure your there to hold your bubba for the first time and thats enough for me". And it was - i had my mother there for the labour and the birth, and Mick stepped into the room as Flynn was being laid on my chest for the first time. Bliss.

So why then would some women judge my fiance, a man whom i love and who is a wonderful, amazing, loving father, labelling him a "caveman "? In my eyes, he's a real man for having the balls to admit his weaknesses. I'm sure there are a lot of men who would prefer not to be in the labour ward, but are guilted into it by the mother. Some of those men may find a reserve of strength and be awesome birthing partners; some may be completely useless and the mother may regret having him there at all. I know there are also plenty of men who cannot wait for those first contractions, so excited are they to be there for all the grunting and moaning and " YOU DID THIS TO ME!!!! ". To me, its all good either way - if he wants to be there, good; if he doesnt, no sweat. Its for each and every couple to decide....as long as the decision is made together. As so many of these women at Mamamia said, child-rearing is an equal partnership, so the decisions surrounding birth should be made together, as a compromise.

Just dont judge men like mine who werent there when they could have been.I'm fine with him being in the waiting room, dealing with all his fears and trepidations about immediate impending parenthood....so why shouldnt you be? If it worked for us, and we were happy, aint none of yo business to be judgin'!

A Labour of Love

So....in yesterdays 300th blog post - which mind you, has been a bit of anti-climax. Where are all my comments? - i asked for post suggestions for this week. Seeing as Brea of Brea's Befuddled Brain is the only ( yet ) to suggest anything, i guess she gets the honour of being todays " contributor ". Brea said:
As a fellow Mummy, I would LOVE to hear about your labour! Was it short, long, emotionally draining...? Did everything go to plan, or did something go wrong? How did Mick cope?

So here's the disclaimer: this post will definately be of the TMI variety. If you are easily offended by birth stories, do not need the mental image of me giving birth scarring you for life or simply do not care to hear about how my son was born STOP READING NOW. Do not read the post, decide you didnt care for it, and then bombard me with abuse in the comments section.

So, that being said - this is not an overly scary birth story. I didnt give birth in my backyard ( shout out to you Lori ) and i wasnt in agonising pain for days on end. Truth be told, i'm lead to believe my labour was on the " good " end of the scale. I'm not saying it was easy - uh, hell no! - but it wasnt as horrible as some other wanna-be-mummas have had to go through. For starters, my son decided that it was going to arrive 15 days before his due date, and contractions started spontaneously. By " spontaneously " i mean a) that i didnt have to be induced and b) they started in the checkout line at Target. Yep - i decided to hit up the post-Christmas sales, December 27th, 11am, and i'm waiting in line to pay for Powderfingers latest album and a set of 3 baby onesies and.... hey, wait, whats that little niggly feeling? Feels like the waistband in my pants has decided to shrink a little, like it wants to squeeze me to death. It wasnt overly painful, just uncomfortable, so Mick and I continued on to my brothers house for a visit.

It wasnt until we left my brothers house that i decided to let Mick in my little secret. I started timing the contractions - 5 minutes apart, lasting 30 seconds - and when we got home i called the hospital. The midwife said that if my water hadnt broken then i probably wasnt in labour, but if a shower didnt ease the pain i could come in. A shower ease the pain ? Uh, nuh. All the shower suceeded in doing was making me lose timing of the contractions and made me extra-squeaky clean. We got to the hospital ( which is literally a 3 minute drive from our house ) just before 1pm and i was 3 cm dialated on examination. I was definately in labour! We were moved into a suite and by this time the uncomfortable sensation was starting to become a little painful. I was still ok but Mick - aww, poor old Mick. He had said the whole way through the pregnancy he didnt want to be in the suite for the birth and i could see why - poor thing was as white as a ghost, and so far all i was doing was walking in circles rubbing my back! He called my mum and waited til she got there, then i sent him away to get himself some lunch, expecting that we would be preoccupied well into the night.

My mum rubbed my back and helped time my contractions, which were getting closer together. I had an " older " midwife come in, maybe in her early 60's and she broke my water - now let me tell you, for those who dont know, that having your waters broken for you is not fun. Its relatively quick, but it hurts. Once the water was broken, the labour stepped up a notch. I got into the spa and started using the gas but it made me feel disgusting - it made me light headed and i threw up twice. ( NOTE: I kind of lost track of time, so excuse the lack of time frame here ). Besides the nausea, the gas wasnt doing jack for the pain so i got out of the spa and tried walking around the room again. Didnt help. The midwife came back and told me it was only going to get worse and i should get back in the spa. Mick came back from his lunch just in time to help Mum get me back in the spa - after which my Mum sent him back out again because he looked like he was going to pass out.

Well - here's where my female bodies natural instincts took hold. It had only been around 4 and half hours since my contractions first began but something, somewhere, inside me was saying " Push! ". I climbed out of the spa, crying and wailing, telling my mum i was going to sit on the loo and i was going to push. She kind of got a little panicked and told me i couldnt do that, it would be hours yet, and i didnt want to hurt the baby. The old midwife came back in and told my mum - " She's being a bit ridiculous. You need to settle her down because its going to be a good while yet ". Ridiculous? Screw you, you old bag, i'm in pain and i'm pushing! ( ok, i didnt ACTUALLY say that, but thats what i was thinking ). After another 20ish minutes of me stalking around the bathroom grunting a young midwife came in and told me that, if i'd come out of the bathroom and hop up on the bed, she'd examine me and see how far along i was. So i did as i was asked, completely panicked and calling out for an epidural. It wasnt supposed to hurt this bad, this early, was it? Seriously, if this was only the beginning i wasnt going to able to cope!

My mum helped me up on the bed, my legs shaking as i let the midwife have a look..... She ducked her back up and said " Sweety, you're absolutely right, you do need to push. The babys ready so whenever you get the urge you push as hard as you can " ( you know, or words to that effect ).So - too late for the epidural then? The first thing i did ? I turned to my mum and yelled " I told you so! ".... and then it was on. I remember saying i wanted to go home, i couldnt do this anymore and, when my mum said she could see the babys head i asked if she could just reach down and pull it out for me. The midwife calmly got herself ready because she didnt think the doctor was going to make it back to deliver the baby, and, even though she said i needed to try and push without wasting my energy on making noise, i screamed and grunted for all i was worth.

And, finally, at 5:05pm i gave one final push and pop! there he was, my little bubba. I say " pop! " because thats the noise it made - i'm going to add in a " woosh! " too because it was like that little dude was coming down some kind of waterslide ( sorry about the mess Dr... ). The doc asked if i wanted to hold him and i was aware enough to answer, but stupid enough to ask " Me? ". Uh, duh, yea Amy.... its your baby. My mum called Mick in after the midwife had cleaned me up and he had the first hold after Flynn had been cleaned up a bit. My dad, with his impeccable timing, had turned up to see how i was getting along, so we let him in too, at which time Mick and I told them that the babys name was Flynn Charlie - we'd manage to keep the name a secret up til then.

So there you be - 15 days early, spontaneous contractions, 6 hours labour, and no stitches - one hell of a first labour if i do say so myself. All of which resulted in this little sprout:

 PS - my apologies to my mother for putting her through an 18 hour labour....
P.P.S Feel free to leave your suggestion for tomorrows post!

DD minus 21: Ah Crud, I Missed A Day

I promised myself that i was going to write a post every day of this countdown and then i got busy and distracted and went and missed a day. Poo to that! It was, of course, 22 days til the due date, it was Sunday yesterday and what distracted me was H's ballet recital and then going out for dinner. Her dance recital was so cute - all the little tiny girls are all dressed in sweet little costumes and they do their little dances as best as they can. At least one girl in every group dances way-out-crazy, and usually someone freezes up and starts either crying or waving to their families in the crowd. Once all the little girls are finished their routines they're allowed to get changed and then sit in the audience to watch the older girls perform. Highlight of the night:
H to my dad, in a quite moment between dances " Hey poppy, you should do ballet instead of golf!! " Every person in the immediate vicinity burst out laughing.....

Now, to today. The majority of it was spent tidying around the house and i finally got around to making more room in our linen cupboard so that i could unpack some more boxes from the garage. Yes, i know what your thinking - i've been living in this house for almost 6 months, surely i'd already done all the unpacking ? Well not quite.... i'd kind of left all the boxes of junk stuff til last because i didnt really have anywhere much to put them. Until today. The nesting instinct strikes again!

The only other noteworthy thing i got up to was catching up with P, my best ( and also pregnant ) friend. We've both been so busy working and doing baby things that we havent had much time for a catch up, but todays weather and the fact neither of us was working made it the perfect day for an icecream break. What was really fantastic though was being able to discuss all the little pregnancy niggles and birth worries with another impending first time mum. I mean dont get me wrong, its nice to get the advice of women who have been there, done that; but it was really great to get to talk about all the worries and issues and discomforts and the handful of good things ( hallelujah for the babys head moving down - i've discovered the ability to breath again! ) with someone else who's experiencing it for the first time and is just as confused as i am. P is due 4 weeks after me, so i suppose i'm just a tiny step ahead of her in terms of growings and goings on, and i'm hoping for her sake ( aswell as my own! ) that i have a good birthing experience..... i dont want to freak her out anymore than she probably already is!

So thats my Monday in a nutshell. For the record it was one scoop of macadamia nut and one scoop of passionfruit icecream and it was scrum-diddly-umptious! Tomorrows agenda? A run to the recycling center with all my excess cardboard - you know, from all that tidying and unpacking i did today - and afternoon tea with my nan, who i wont be seeing on Christmas Day. Oh, also, i plan on fitting in a nap somewhere ......

DD minus 23: Oh Good Lord, I Think I'm Leaking

OK, i dont just think i'm leaking.... i know i'm leaking. I also know that is probably too much information for most of you ( Leaking ?! Leaking what, from where?!? ) but in the rundown to giving birth i wanted to make note of it. Although i know its completely normal, noticing that i've burst some kind of hole in my boobs is kind of a freak out.

And now - forgetting that. Its Saturday! Which you would think seeing as i'm on maternity leave and staying home everyday doesnt mean much, but it does - firstly because it means Mr Gil isnt at work either, and secondly because tonight is my work Christmas do. I'm not going to call it a " bash " because i believe a bash requires a few more than 5 office staff and their partners, and neither does it qualify as a " function " because im thinking not many functions are held on the back patio of someones house. No, i think calling it a " do " is the best way to go on this occasion. Its not a barbecue either because there wont be any actual barbecuing - its just the few us getting together for a drink, a chat and a meal of some nice cold roasted meats, some prawns, salads and dessert and the obligatory pre-meal snacks.... chips, dips and cabanossi and cheese. Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm!

I have graciously allowed Mr Gil to have a few beers tonight, seeing as its technically a " do " and all. No, i'm not some kind of beer-Nazi fiance who wont let her man drink - rather i've had to put my foot down and ask that he not have his usual beer or three after work every day just in case i go into labour. I mean the last thing i want to do if i go into labour is try and wake him up when he's sleeping off a few drinks, or have to drive myself to the hospital. To be quite honest, i dont think my head would be clear enough to operate car controls when the moment finally comes!

So, two and half hours out from the do/party thingy, i think i'm going to take a shower, fix myself up with a clean bra and possibly take a nap.... not necessarily in that order. Rundown of party happenings ( and any tantrums that may or may not be thrown over certain presents, as mentioned yesterday ) in tomorrows post!

DD minus 27: Look Whats Finally Coming Together

You know how when you've been wanting to do something for months, and for better or worse you've ( kind of ) been procrastinating or just not quite finding the time - and then, finally, you get your arse into gear and the project is nearing completion .... you know how that makes you feel ? That " wow, look what i've done ", personal pride kind of feeling ? Yep, thats what i've got going on because..... the baby's room is almost done!

I feel like i've achieved a lot today. Its not just the physical act of washing and drying and folding piles and piles of baby clothes and cot sheets and fleecy blankets - although seeing all those little clothes hung out on my washing line was kind of sweet. Its more than that. The near completion of this physical task - the painting, the putting together of furniture, the washing and folding, the organising and decorating - is symbolic. It means I'm READY. Or as ready as i'm going to get anyway. Sure, i still need to pack a bag for the labour ( altough i did pack my bag for the actual hospital stay today - go me! ) so i'm technically not quite ready, but i feel like i am.

I also feel excited, nervous and a little scared - but on top of all this, i feel ready. I know i'm repeating the same word over and over here but theres no other way to explain it. I feel like i'm in a place where, even though i am excited and nervous and just a little scared, i'm also at ease with whats going to be thrown at me and i'm pretty sure that i'm going to be able to handle it, no matter how bad it appears to be. It might be because i've been having all these little conversations with other mothers or other pregnant women lately - like my beauty therapist today ( by the way way, lower leg and foot massages are the bomb! ). Its nice knowing that i'm part of a group - which has literally billions of members.

She asked me if i had thought about pain relief for the birth ( which i have.... kind of ) and how i think i'll make it through labour ( which can literally last all day if not longer ).

Here's what i'm holding on to - billions of other women, since the dawn of time, have been able to do this. And if they can, i can to. Simple yes, yet motivating. If so many other women can do it - can be strong, can bear down in the face of pain, can kick and scream and fight until the " job " is done ( or, for the Zen ladies out there, bite their lips and do it all in silence ).... then so can i. I can be that Superwoman.

And seeing as i've put together a piece of furniture all by myself this afternoon, made up the cot, sorted and folded all the clothes my child owns and cleaned the bathroom, i think i'm well on my way to that superhero status....