Anyone for Seconds?

The past few months have flown by in a flurry of (more than usual) activity. In pursuit of sun and loved ones, we flew halfway across the world with our boisterous toddler barely on our laps. Visiting Perth for Christmas was a dream. A very hot one, but a beautiful dream nonetheless. Fast fading now amidst the cold, grey winter that we returned to in Blighty.

We landed back at Heathrow, heart, mind and body holding together and just as well for we have barely stopped since. Work, study, life have all crowded in as we readjusted to being a unit of three without the additional help or company of loving grandparents and old friends.

In this period many people I knew gave birth. All to their second child. As I heard of each new arrival into this world, I smiled and then asked myself:

Would I?

And the answer each time has been:

No.

It is a question I get asked a lot. It seems to be human nature to jump ahead of ourselves rather than relish what is there. Our few rites of passage (marriage, birth, death) are hurried. Years ago when I announced my engagement, the question on everyone's lips was:

When is the wedding?

After the wedding had barely been done and dusted, it was:

House?
Kids?

And when the kid did come along, my own mother asked me:

Do you think you'll have another?

Given that the stitches were barely out and I was still waking like a Rhinestone Cowboy, I thought the answer would have been obvious.

However it has been nearly two years now since Dragon entered the world. In that time I have considered the sibling question extensively.  I have said to the Husband:

We are putting all our eggs into one basket. It's very risky.

And it is. When you experience the love you have for your child, the thought of anything happening to that child is inconceivable. Better to have a spare. The same being if anything were to happen to you or your partner. Then as siblings they could support one another. That is, if they don't hate each other as some siblings do.

I wonder when people will stop asking that question? When it is evident that I am post menopausal? When I look post menopausal even if I'm not?

And I wonder when I am asked that question, when will I stop asking myself:

Will I?

Motherhood: It's Not all Apples.

When I was six months pregnant, I registered myself for an NCT Early Days postnatal course. Mistakenly thinking it was a course about childcare, I who had only changed a nappy once in my life pre Dragon, thought I would need all the help I could get.

Turns out I should've read the fine print. Early Days is actually a course for the mother. I quote my course leader:

Post birth, all the attention is on the baby. How is the baby? What should I do with the baby? Well what about the mother? She's going through a lot too. But no-one really asks about her. This course is for the mother. A place where she can discuss and examine how motherhood is impacting upon her.  After all, when a baby is born, so is a mother.

Great!  I thought. I'm in the right place.

I looked at all the faces around me and wondered what their stories were.

It turns out that most of their stories were the same. Shiny, happy love stories. Blissed up with baby stories. My life is complete stories.

It really pissed me off.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: The Veneer of Motherhood.

Is this what a good mother does? Dress identically to her children? Freaky.

Of course we all love our babies. Otherwise we would have killed them all by now for the torture of those early days/weeks/months. Let me tell you, the ONLY thing that keeps a baby alive when it allows you no sleep,  tears the skin off your nipple with her mouth, screams for hours at a time, ad infinitium (insert your trauma here), the only thing that keeps that baby alive is LOVE.

So it's a given that we love our babies.Would dive into a burning lake filled with vomit for them. Would throw ourselves in front of a stampede of mating brumbies for them (insert corny cliche here) 

But ladies, until that time comes when we must face the brumbies, let's do ourselves a favour and tell it like it is. I don't care how you put it. Changing twenty nappies a day is not blissful. Say it aloud. No-one is going to cart you off to the looney bin. Social services isn't going to come knocking. You are not a bad mother.

You are normal.

Going through a very normal, albeit, brutal rite-of-passage towards becoming a parent. The very core of your identity is shape shifting and that's gotta hurt at times.


But don't tell me its all fairy floss and rainbows. Just tell the truth.

Enter the Dragon

Where oh where did those nine months go?

Enjoy the time chirruped all my (wise) mum friends, It won't come again.

And as I find myself perched on the precipice of labour, I couldn't agree with them more.

Why is it that we pregnant-for-the-first-time-women spend nine months fretting and worrying and busying ourselves with a million and one inconsequentials only to find that as we stare into the pit face of the unknown (a.k.a giving birth at any point now), we are none the wiser and wide-eyed as ever. The armour of information and stuff that you've accumulated over the past nine months is precisely that. Armour. It may help you but it won't do the work for you.

I have no control of what is about to happen. A thought that is petrifying and thrilling at the same time.

Looking back, I can now say that I have enjoyed my pregnancy. Despite the discomfort of symptoms, the hormonal madness and sometimes difficult life changes, I have enjoyed observing what's been happening to me; both physically and emotionally. 

I appreciate though that it is only the very beginning of something. Something enormous and fantastical. And by that I don't mean Dragon's head.

What I mean, is Dragon's heart.

I'm soon to meet my baby.

Oh boy.

The Pain of Pregnancy Brain

It's real.

The curse of pregnancy brain.

What was I saying?

What was I thinking?

Huh?

The worse was the day when someone asked me how to spell my husband's surname and I didn't know.

I wonder if it is not so much a temporary absent-mindedness but rather a short circuiting due to information overload. Once you become pregnant, there is so much additional information to take in.  

I found this pregnancy survey on another blog and decided to replicate it here.

How did you find out you were pregnant?  By taking five cheap home pregnancy tests that I had bought on the internet
What kind of Pregnancy test did you take?  Don't know. It was only a fiver for fifty on the internet.
What were your 1st symptoms?  Sore boobs. 
Who did you tell first?  My husband. Then my masseuse.
Who was with you when you found out? Le Husband.
My 1st reaction:  Bemusement. 
Was your baby planned?  Yep
When was the baby conceived? I can't say.
How far were you when you found out?  Five weeks
How did your parents react?  Happily

My baby
Due Date:  March 21, 2011
Do you know the sex?  Yes
Any names: Yes
Any Ultrasounds?  Four so far, one more to go.
Have you heard the heart beat?  Yes and it's a great sound
Who do you think it will look like?  Judging by the ultrasounds, it has its father's massive head (OW!)
Will the baby have siblings? Your guess is as good as mine
Have you felt the baby move?  Absolutely

Miscellaneous
Did you have morning sickness? Only all day nausea
Did you have any cravings?  Orange juice, apple juice, bland carbs and cold cooked ham.
Did you have any mood swings? Is that a trick question
Are you a high risk pregnancy?  Nope.
Any complications?  Nope.
Formula or Breastfeeding? Whatever works
Have you bought anything for the baby yet? Yes
When did you start to show? About 5 months
How long could you wear your regular clothes? Still can although jeans need a belly belt
Will you keep the baby’s clothes? Only a few special pieces
Home or Hospital?  Hospital. 
Natural or Medicated birth? Whatever works
Who will be in the delivery room with you?  My partner in crime
Do you think you will need a C-section? Who knows
Will you let anyone video tape the birth?  No way Jose
Are you excited? Yes 
Who will help you with the baby after the birth?  My husband and our army of invisible staff. And then my mum.
What is your favorite thing about being pregnant?  The bump, the happy hormones, the loving support from friends and family and the baby grooving away in my belly
What is the worst thing about being pregnant? Everything else
What’s one thing you miss doing since being pregnant?  Running.
Any days you wish you were not pregnant?  Yes
Are you ready for a baby?  Yes
Have you had your baby shower yet?  Not yet
Do you like kids?  Depends on the kid.  
How far along are you now?  28 weeks and counting…

Music Soothes the Savage Beast

For my uni lectures this week I had to read several interviews about the work of Raimund Hoghe. Hoghe is not your standard dancer. He has severe curvature of the spine, a.k.a - a hunchback. In one interview he was asked if he follows a physical training regimen in order to be able to perform. He replied:

No. The music gives me the power. With music I can do things I can’t do by myself

Raimund Hoghe at work

This stuck in my mind. It's true. Music does have that power.

Which is why I have started to ponder my music playlist for labour. Whilst I am in the throes of giving birth, I need music that will carry me through it.

Of course I may not want music when the time comes but prefer the sound of my own screams ricocheting off the hospital walls. Nonetheless, I best be prepared.

The only thing I have to compare birthing to is training for a marathon. When I trained for the marathon, I needed a mantra, music and motivation. The music that got me through and gave me that extra push was metal. The wailing of the lead guitar plus the grunt factor of the bass overlaid with the guttural screams of the singer and manic drum bashing blend nicely to aurally simulate the agony and ecstacy of running a marathon.

And perhaps birth too? Whaddya think?

Will our kid come out looking like this?

So that's whats on my playlist so far. Metallica, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden and some home grown Perth talent, Karnivool.  With a bit of Apocalyptica for the quieter moments.

Of Woman Born

When I was just a wee young girl, far from the clutches of puberty, my mother and I had a conversation about marriage and children. When I declared that I wanted neither, she replied:

If you must get married at all, put it off for as long as you can

and

You won't know what it's like to be a woman unless you have children*

I was just ten at the time but even then I retorted:

That's rubbish. Are you saying that women who choose not to have babies or can't have them are not women? If becoming a woman means having views like that, I'll give it a miss thanks.

As I digested the fact that my mother's dream for me was to become a single mother, I felt my anger at her statement grow.

Twenty seven years later, I still get mad when I hear this nonsense spouted at me. Unfortunately it has been said to me far too often. And always by women.

Does this make you a woman?

In the period after I got married (sorry mum), I got the baby question a lot. It drove me crazy. Some people felt it was their right to assess my womanly status in direct correlation to my breeding status. However when I asked these people if they were planning to go back to work or what else they were planning to do apart from childrearing, it was as if I was launching a nuclear attack. Defenses went up. Tangible bristles appeared. How dare I question the sacred fount of Motherhood!

Well don't dish it out if you can't take it I say.

I'm going to become a mother sometime next year. So far my pregnancy has not made me feel any more womanly. It has made me feel pretty gross in fact. I know there are big changes ahead and I know nothing I can do will ever prepare me for them.

But I do know one thing. And that is I will not suddenly become a Woman when the baby is pushed, pulled, yanked, cut, tugged out of me.

It will be another stage of becoming me.


*To be fair, she did tell people to shut up about the kid question after I was married and told me that having kids was definitely not the be all and end all of life and sometimes it was better not to have them. I was somewhat reassured and offended at the same time.

The Sharklette

Aged twelve I watched Gone with the Wind for the first time and lapped it up. The heaving bosoms, the bryl cream and moustaches, the fiddle-de-dees and the severe corsetry.


But unlike the rest of the world, the most memorable phrase for me from the film was not Rhett's pithy:

Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.

What lodged itself in my 12 year old memory was this. Melanie after tending to Scarlett in labour for god-knows how long (did they have epidurals in those days. I think not), announced:

The best days are when babies come.

Quite why this phrase resonated with me remained a mystery for many years. I was and am not a clucky type. Babies seemed like little wrinkly aliens that cry constantly and made a lot of mess.

Then three years ago my best girlfriend-soul-sister gave birth to a baby girl. When I crept in to see this newborn for the first time, something happened. This wee little thing stared at me and I stared at her and something passed between us. And in that moment, I got it.

Hello, I thought. You were in my friends' belly a minute ago and now you're here. That's really something.

A few years have passed since and my mate and her fella have done it again. Another little wrinkly person arrived today and I can't wait to meet her. The Sharklette.

You were right Melanie Wilkes. The best days really are when babies come.