WIGO

What is going on? Well the following:

• Meeting fellow bloggers
• Attending PND mothers group
• Attending other new mothers group
• Talking to Midwife / Counsellor about PND
• Having home visits from Health Care Nurse to monitor the PND
• Preparing for Jordan’s Christening
• Supporting Ellie through a tough time with parents
• Getting sick of talking about “how I feel”
  

Since I came home from the hospital, the demon thoughts have not visited, since I came home from the hospital, I have not felt depressed. Yet all these people will not leave me alone. Part of me wishes I had lied on the questionnaire like my SIL, just to have these people off my back.

I’m having another visit today with the HCN and I have an appointment on Thursday with a psychiatrist. I feel that sometimes I don’t even have time to enjoy Jordan anymore.

I get more depressed when I talk about how I felt in the first three months of his life. Is it the fact that I don’t want to deal? That perhaps I’m running away? I don’t think so, I don’t feel that way anymore.

The Dr spills

I saw the surgeon late last week and he removed the staples…all I can say is oooch. He checked me over and we discussed the details of the surgery. He mentioned that this particular surgery took 5 years off his life…because of the amount of blood.

I don’t want to dramatise my experience or dwell on what happened, but apparently I came very close, so very close to the edge of no return. He skimmed over the details and cryptically said that if I was not in that hospital and didn’t have the experience in the room then the surgery could’ve had disastrous consequences, basically I could’ve died.

So how does that make me feel? Guilty, when I woke and I got my bearings, I still could not help feel a great sense of guilt….yes guilt…for putting my needs (to have this surgery) before Jordan’s and then having been told that I came close to dieing makes my guilt even worse. Buy I’m working through this guilt…and if anything what I do is just shower Jordan with as much love and attention that I can give.

Tim surprisingly coped really well with looking after Jordan, he didn’t want any help from my mother or his mother…he wanted to do things on his own. His motto was that if I could do it then he could as well. The best thing about all of this…is that Tim and I are now both on the same page with him…we both “know” his signs and he has bonded totally with his son.

Ok I’m sick of talking about myself so here are some new photo’s of my boy. This is the way Jordan sucks his thumb.


This will be Jordan's outfit for his Christening, I thought that I should try it on him before I wash it and cut off the tags...what do you think?


Finally I managed to take a photo of his beautiful full faced smile!

 

How am I?

Thankyou all so much for your comments!

I am ok, in a lot of pain but am coping. In the end I had 4-5 units of blood given to me and I was sedated to help my body cope with the surgery and blood loss.

When I was finally awake and had the tube of horror removed, it was then that I noticed how many different tubes, drips and such stuff was attached to me. In the middle of my left forearm was the IV tube that they gave me the blood, then on my right hand was another IV which they used for the pain killers. Then just under my right collarbone was a CV line that consisted for 3 separate lines, for antibiotics and hydration solution. Then of corse I had a catheter and a drain tube.

My body looks like it has been through a war, I have 14 separate bruises on both my thighs and upper arms from all the heparin injections I received. Then I have all these bruised alone my wrists and forearms form all the attempts at inserting IV’s. Then of course there are my 4 wounds, which the surgeon decided to use staples instead of stitches to sew up.

The road to recovery for this surgery compared to the c-section is much tougher…so much harder. Gone is my vow to be visitor free for 2 weeks, I just can’t do anything on my own. I’m able to change Jordan’s nappy but then it is a struggle as his kicking feet are at the wound height.

My mother in law was over on the weekend to cook and iron for us and now my mother is here to stay over night as Tim is back at work and it is hard for me to do the night feed.

A day lost

Sunday

10pm – I’m talking to my brother in law about the surgery that will take place the next day. Oh No…the pain is starting. I get off the phone and take some pain killers and walk around the house. Tim is in the shower, I gingerly tell him that the pain has started.

Wait 30 minutes….no change…shit. Call my in-laws (who live very close to us). “Can you please come over, now I need to go to the hospital, my body just couldn’t wait the extra night for the surgery”.
11pm to 1am - I’m in the Emergency department where I’ve been stabbed in both arms to get an IV going and been given pethidine for the pain…I didn’t like it one bit. I send Tim home to our baby.

Monday

7am - I buzz for the nurse asking for breakfast…no I’m not allowed as I’m having surgery today. Fuck…can I have a drink of water…no…you are on fluids anyway to help hydrate your body. Can I have a fucking shower…yes…ok.

Tim comes in with Jordan whom promptly decides to crack the shits…I settle him and he sleeps on the bed. I’m still hooked up to the IV.

1pm – The surgeon comes in…hahaha how funny that your body couldn’t wait the extra night…all the more reason to have it taken out.

“When am I going to have the surgery?”

“Around 5 or 6 o’clock”

Not really impressed but start the whole waiting game…I hate waiting. 6pm I get told that they are ready for me. Finally!!! I have these stockings put on my legs to stop ‘deep vain thrombosis (DVT)’ forming’ and then get wheeled to the waiting area. I felt so alone, so very alone and I’m nervous as hell. I fight to keep the tears in as I’m waiting there.

More weird things are put on my legs…a plastic cover with tubes..I was to discover later that once this things is hooked up to a pump and would constrict and retract to cause pressure in my legs…a preventative measure of DVT.

6:30 – I’m finally wheeled into theatre and see the anaesthetist. “You will be put to sleep now”

“OK”

Blackness.

Voices so many loud voices…SHUT UP…YOU ARE SO FUCKING LOUD!

“Oh they don’t know I’m awake…SHIT…SHIT…I can’t move”

“OK Mari shake your head…no it didn’t work…FUCK….shake your head and arms…no nothing…..ok breath deeply…try your legs…FUCK!!!! HELLO I’M HERE SHUT UP…LOOK I’M HERE…try your head again…I think it worked…I felt my head move a little”…then blackness

I wake....Oh there is my Mimi, his eyes are red and his face is pale. I try to speak but I can’t. “Why is there a tube in my mouth” I point at it.

“Your OK Mari, your in ICU, Jordan is with my parents, I love you.”

Tears are running down my face “I love you too, where am I, what happened, why am I in ICU”. But I can’t say any of this I touch I grab his hand and touch his face….blackness

I wake again…oh there is Anyu (my mother)…I point at thing in my mouth.

“No sweetheart you can’t have that removed…in the morning we will take it out” A nurse says to me.

“How am I meant to talk…I want to talk…” I motion with my hand that I want to write, I’m given a pen and a piece of paper.

I write something and give it to Anyu “I can’t understand what you are writing”

I try again “WHAT HAPPENED?”

Blackness again…Anyu is still there I grab her hand and fall back asleep. I wake again and point to my mouth.

“no honey in the morning not now, are you thirsty?”

I nod a cotton bud with water is dripped in my mouth…tears are running down my face…I have never tasted water so sweet before…blackness.

Anyu is talking to the nurse. “I’m staying till about 8pm”, I look at the clock it is 6pm, I’m still holding my Mums hand.

I indicate that I want to write again…the nurse laughs affectionately at how I close one eye to focus on what I’m writing. I ask again “What happened”

“There was a complication with the surgery, but you are ok now”.

I sleep again and when I wake Anyu is still there holding my hand…I write “Is it morning yet”. They all laugh “No it isn’t, it’s 8pm”

“Anyu I know you can’t understand me, but go home you look so tired, I’m ok, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, go home to Apu and Bro…I love you” I try to convey all of this in my eyes, but she doesn’t understand me I touch her face and wave for her to go away.

I sleep….and when I wake it is much lighter…finally it is morning.

Another nurse leans over my face. “Good morning darling!” I point to my tube…yes it is coming out today.

In comes the Dr, he is pale and looks worried I try to smile. “Mari there was a complication with your surgery, the main thing is that you are here”

I look to the nurse a bit confused, a complication…I write “Did you remove my Gall Bladder?”

“Yes, I did”

“What was the complication”.

“Your artery was severed during the procedure and you lost a lot of blood, but you are ok now. You will most likely be moved to a ward today.”

“What Day is it?” I write to the nurse.

“It is Wednesday”.

I’m stunned and I look confused.

“We kept you sedated for a day because you’ve been very ill, you came to us Monday night at 10pm and it is now Wednesday morning 7:30am. Honey you’ve lost a day!”

I smacked my hand to my forehead and start to cry, gag and vomit.

Labels

Right this minute there are three words that describe where I am, infertile, mother and suffering from post natal depression.

Infertile
Even though I have Jordan, I’m still infertile I haven’t stopped producing cysts on my ovaries. I don’t know when my period will occur or if I am in fact ovulating. Most recently there has been a lot of talk with family and friends about Bobim #2. When will we try for another Bobim? Are we going to use OI again? How long are we going to try before we seek help again?

These questions just blow my mind and make me furious because there is a gorgeous little boy that needs acknowledgement and love and attention from everyone. By talking about Bobim #2 it can feel to me as though Jordan is not enough and they all want another one…to replace him perhaps. Tim and I have discussed Bobim #2 and logistics, plans of it all but, I’m in no rush. I want to savour my little boy and enjoy all the love, laughter and happiness he brings to our life.

Mother
Do I feel like a Mummy? I don’t know, what should a Mummy feel like…..I have no clue. I do feel like Jordan knows who I am, he recognises my voice and looks for me if I’m in the room and he hears me and he smiles when I greet him. I feel that Tim and I are the only ones that can comfort him when he needs it.

PND
Flick I did the test with the Health Care Nurse and she was concerned with the results, they were high and I was asked to go back and see her. I did and she is even more concerned now. I don’t feel depressed and I’m not unhappy.
I just doubt my ability to look after Jordan properly. I’ve allowed my mother, sister and mother in law the power to tell me that I’m a shit mother. It is in the middle of the night when I’m feeding Jordan that I’m at my worst. I’ve mentioned this before and I’ve mentioned the suicidal thoughts I have at those times. But I make sure that I keep talking to Tim about how I am feeling and it is an effort to keep writing about how I feel.

The HCN wanted me to hold off on the surgery tomorrow and anaesthesia can affect my hormones and make me feel even worse than I do. I need to clarify that I love my son and husband unconditionally and I would never, ever do anything to myself and to them.

It usually after a visit with my mother or mother in law or a phone call from my sister that I feel unworthy of the role as Jordan’s Mummy.

There is a huge emphasis on Jordan’s digestive system and every single conversation I have with these people the words “His stomach is sore” is uttered. It is driving me insane!!!!

After seeing the HCN on Friday I decided to take the power away from these people and be more assertive. I’m not a child anymore for them to walk all over me and I’m about to let others tell me how to raise my little boy. With this I’ve promptly declined any help for the next two weeks and I will not be removing myself off the visiting agenda for this time.

I feel that we as a family need to be by ourselves for a little while and I build my confidences more as Jordan’s mummy. I also need to learn to stand my ground with these people.

These people love us so much and truly honestly believe that they are helping with their suggestions. But right now, this moment every single suggestion that is made…it feels as though they are making these suggestions because they believe I’m a shit mother. Which is untrue I know, I know this but this is how their assvice is making me feel.

An example of this is when I asked my mother on Thursday if Jordan will remember me after I get out of hospital…(this is my greatest fear…I can’t sleep because of this fear)…my mother laughed at me and told me that it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever said to her. This hurt me deeply; it maybe was ridiculous to her but it is my greatest fear. I told her that it was not nice of her to laugh at me…I needed reassurance more than anything. Of course I took it the wrong way but that is where I am right now, vulnerable, insecure. I’m in uncharted waters here…I’ve never done this before, a little reassurance from these people wouldn’t hurt and it would perhaps boost my spirits.

Instead I’m told to give Jordan chamomile tea and even giving him Caraway seed tea, or give more water.It is all of you that, my husband and this blog that is keeping me afloat. I know that some women that are still in the infertile trenches that may feel disgusted that I’m feeling this way. But I never asked to be either infertile just like I never put my hand up to be dealt with PND.

Monday

Tomorrow I’m going into hospital to have my Gall bladder removed. I saw the specialist on Thursday and he took one look at my blood test results and the ultrasound and basically said I needed to have the thing removed ASAP.

Part of me if grateful that I have a Dr that is concerned enough to jump on board and demand I take care of things. The other part is scared shitless about the whole thing.

The surgery part is not what scares me, it is leaving Jordan. Leaving Jordan with Tim to look after him, I’m confident that Tim will be able to do a fantastic job, I’m just scared about Jordan missing me too much. Or that he may feel abandoned by me as I’m not going to be here for him.

In other news

I’ve been referred to a specialist in order to have my gall bladder removed. My appointment is for next Thursday and from my guess the surgery will happen in November sometime…very serious stuff and no mucking about…or waiting around.

Since giving birth to Jordan I think that I’ve passed a number of stones, but the last time that it occurred I was in so much pain that I could not function. The other times…the pain passed quickly and I was able to look after my son.

My greatest fear with this now is that the pain will grip me again when it is just the two of us at home. When it starts I’m incapacitated there is no way that I could even look after Jordan. I could delay the surgery and wait until he is a little older but then I run the risk of it hitting me when I least expect it.

Then there are my feelings about the whole surgery, I feel as though I’m abandoning my little boy, even if it will be for a few days…I’m riddled with guilt. I know that I would not be a good mother if I ignored this and didn’t have the surgery…

The evil demon visited again, during the early morning feed. But this time I made it a point to talk to Tim about what the bastard said:
“What if I die during surgery?....Oh that is ok, Tim will find someone else to be the mother of Jordan. Jordan won’t miss me…plus Tim’s mother is much “better” mother than I am and she will help him”.

Perhaps the evil demon is a sign of PND, I don’t know, but when I had that thought…I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel hurt, angry, upset, happy. I felt nothing, no remorse, no pain , no sorrow…nothing…nada…zip. If anything the lack of feeling scares me more than that thought.

After telling Tim I did feel better and something deep inside me made me go and check on Jordan…as I leaned over the cot to see if he was awake, his eyes open and in the small light produced by the little lamp next to his bed he recognised me…and smiled…and that brought me back…my demon bashing bat grew and I was able to fight the bastard off again…even if for a little while.

Alternative Realities

Jordan had his 2 month immunisation injections today…I was so nervous, anxious and worried about the whole thing. 3 injections later in his thigh and much crying he is finally asleep.

On the way home from the Dr Surgery, having a screaming child in the car…my thoughts drifted to Star Trek – Voyager and the holographic doctor. More specifically the one instrument that was always present the hyper-spray. In that moment I wished for the utopia (or alternative) future where hyper-sprayers were readily used.

One little spssst sound and you would be all done, no jabbing, no bleeding and no screaming. Nothing can alleviate a mother’s worry and nervousness relating to immunisation…but…but what the hyper-spray would stop is the crack formed in a mother’s heart upon hearing their child scream in pain. Bring on the Star Trek future……even if we do not “boldly go where no man has gone before”, at least we could some of the gadgets.

****Update****

My poor little boy is suffering, he is in so much pain….every time he moves his legs there is a burst of pain….followed by a high pitch whimper, even in his sleep.

I’ve had to give him baby Panadol and I’ve held a cold face cloth against the needle wounds… I just hope that this will help him.

****2nd Update****

Well that seemed to have worked…he is now babbling away in his cot and smiling when I go to check up on him even kicking his legs around. What a relief it has taken me about 2 hours to write this post. In between I’ve had to help him poo (thanks Flick for the advice, massaging his botty seems to help), try to settle a screaming baby, try to feed him but resorted to giving him Panadol.

Pain

I wake, I’m lying on my right side, I’m in pain.
I rollover onto my back but still I’m in pain.
I roll onto my left side, I’m in pain.
I look at the clock it is 5am…I’m in pain.

I stretch…some relief but it comes back and I’m in pain.
I get out of bed and walk around…no help I’m still in pain.
I drink Mylanta, still in pain.
I drink water, cordial, soda, milk…no still in pain.

It is getting worse and I’m still in pain.
I walk around in a circle rubbing my tummy, it helps for a little but I’m still in pain.
I sit on the couch, my right leg tucked under my left, I’m still in pain.
I my elbow rests on the couch and my body is scrunched over, I’m still in pain.

I throw up my dinner, still in pain.
I ride the porcelain bus 6 more times and still in pain.
I wash my mouth out, shower change and still in pain.

It has been 5 hours and still I’m in pain.
Tim rubs my back, whilst I’m scrunched over..it helps a little but I’m still in pain.
I try pain killers no help as I’m still in pain.

I eventually go to the Doctors just to be poked and prodded all the while in pain.
I have a blood test, ultrasound and still I’m in pain.

I passed a Gall Stone, and it seems that my Gall Bladder needs to be removed as it is full of stones.
The pain has moved, into my heart…my baby…my poor little baby…I need to have this surgery…will he remember me? Will he miss me? Will Tim be able to cope?

The light

I'm ok, we are ok and his is just perfect!

 

A dark place

It seems that my demons seem to visit me when I’m most vulnerable…at night specifically the early morning feed. Those demons sure went to town on me last night.

I’ve dealt with them successfully since I was a teenager. I have the physical and emotional scares to show. Even during the 3 worst times in my life…during the most trying times of dealing with the miscarriages, I was able to keep the demon locked in his cage.

Oh the bars rattled and I heard a lot of screeching but I was able to fight back and keep him quiet. But to pounce on me now, when I think that all is wonderful in the world is just cruel but also very smart.

The self doubt, pain, uncertainty, anger, frustration and morbid thoughts scare me to my core. I swear that I haven’t felt this way since I was about 16, the temptation to fall back on my old habits and not care about the consequences kept me awake. Seeking reassurance from Tim was the only thing and I mean the only thing that kept me from doing something drastic to myself.

Even looking at Jordan sleeping this morning…more precisely at 4am didn’t help. The thoughts are too gruesome to write but they shocked and rocked me. This is Mari we are talking about…the Mari that tried desperately for so many years to conceive and birth a child…this is the Mari that was for a long time last night out on the edge…very close to the edge. Where I have not been for many years.

The demon in his cage seems so very big today and my bat that I use to bash him back into his place seems to be a very tiny twig. But that bars are holding, I don’t know for how long but they are holding. The lock is still in place but his words, feelings, thoughts are getting through. My protective shield is wavering, pray for me to have the strength to boost my shield and my bat and help me beat this bastard back into his place!

Unfit. To. Be. A. Mother

Yes that is me, I’m an unfit mother. According to my mother, father, mother in law, father in law, sister and yes my husband I’m an unfit mother. Or at least this is how they are all making me feel.

If my son cries just a little and brings his knees up to his chest…then his stomach is sore and I’m an unfit mother because I didn’t read the signs and did something about it, like shove chamomile tea down his throat. According to my mother in law and father in law. Jordan’s behaviour can’t be linked to the fact that he is pissed off and is kicking to get his point across…no HOW would I know that?

According to my mother, I’m unfit to be Jordan’s mum because he has developed a flat head on one side and it is my fault as I simply do not lay him on his side. Even though he hates being propped up on his side…as he gets too hot.

According to my father I’m shit parent because I sometimes hold Jordan whilst he is sleeping, hence spoiling him with my love and dare I say…comfort!

According to my sister I have no skills in trying to settle my screaming baby. She feels it is her right to try to snatch, grab and steal my child out of my arms…all because I’m an unfit mother.

According to my husband, I should leave Jordan screaming in his cot and allow him to cry himself to sleep, by going into his room and telling him that I’m there and that I love him and offer him a dummy, I’m ruining Jordan and making my own life difficult.

Also apparently I should take my son to see a GP or Paediatrician to get my baby checked out because of the following:
1) My baby cries
2) My babies stomach is sore
3) My baby may suffer a bit from wind
4) My baby throws up
5) My baby constantly sounds like he has a blocked nose
6) I’ve changed formula on my child with out professional help
7) My baby doesn’t like to sleep during the day

I feel like running, running away to be alone with my child. Packing Jordan up and just leaving. Now I know that I’m a good Mum, I’m just new to this job and both Jordan and I are feeling our way through things.

Yesterday became too much for me with all the things that have been said and done. I’m not constantly being told by these people these things but when you are on your own and you have a child that will only sleep on you and is crying for no reason then you can’t help but believe even if for one day that you are an unfit mother.

Confrontation

I had to do it, there was no avoiding it this time. It took a lot out of me to finally say “No more it is enough!”

My sister has been spending up big on JJ, even while pregnant we were receiving gifts constantly. Every time I saw her there was something new and while we appreciated each and every purchase it became a joke and I felt like there was an agenda behind the “presents”.

It turned out that there was an agenda. About 2 weeks before JJ was born my sister and Ellie came over for a visit and yet again she had another gift, I can’t remember what it was but we thanked her kindly and asked her to stop. The conversation turned to the Christening (of my yet unborn son), she was desperate to know the details…who would be coming, when we would hold the event, which church and where the lunch would be…and of course who would be the God Parents.

Tim and I had already decided that Ellie would be JJ’s God mother and his best friend would be the God Father. This did not go down well with my sister…she was itching to have the privilege…and I knew deep in my heart that this was the reason for all the gifts. This may sound harsh but wait there is more to the story.

The next day I received and phone call from my brother in law…saying “how dare I ask Ellie to be the God mother, as she is underage”. My family it seems believe that a request to be a Religious God mother automatically means that I’m asking people to be the Legal Guardian in case something happens.

My Brother in law then went onto say that my sister had noticed that all the gifts that we had received from them have been thrown away. It seems as though my sister was snooping around JJ’s room and because I had packed away a few things, she automatically assumed that I threw them away. Or…or..wait for this…she was stiring the pot as she was pissed that I hadn’t asked her to be JJ’s God mother.

In the hospital we received yet more gifts from my sister, this time Tim kindly but forcefully said “Thankyou …blah…we appreciate all the gifts, but please no more”. Tim and I worked out recently that she would’ve spent over $800 on JJ and we feel uncomfortable with the constant purchases.

So today she turned up with yet another plastic bag with her latest purchase for JJ. I refused to accept the gift, wouldn’t even look in the bag. She tried to force it into Tim’s hands but he too refused it. She then placed the bag into JJ’s room, where I removed it and gave it straight to Ellies hand, telling my sister that we had explained that whilst the thoughts and gifts were appreciated..we had asked her NOT to buy anything else. Her response was what is she going to do with the baby stuff. I replied that Ellie can take it back to the store for a refund and then she can purchase herself some thing.

I haven’t had to be a bitch like this towards my sister but it seems that since JJ has been born I’ve finally grown the balls to stick up for my convictions, and you know what….it felt good and I was really proud of myself.

The Gold medal goes to....

My mother!!! I always knew that my mother had a heart of gold. All throughout her life my mother’s kindness has been taken advantage off; Growing up the kids in our street would come and play at the house of Mari, because my mother made great cakes and cookies.

At times my mothers kind heartedness would piss me off, as it seemed that she would bend over backwards to help everyone else rather than do stuff for us. Perhaps with maturity or marriage I finally realised that the unselfishness of my mother was something I aspired to achieve in my life…and I’m way off.

Tim went back to work today….and with this knowledge my mother was here at 9am this morning armed with food and a change of clothes. My only task today was dealing with JJ, whilst my darling mother cleaned the whole house…meaning she vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed and mopped the whole house, bathrooms, toilets, laundry, bedrooms, kitchen…yes the whole house.

Then after some visitors left and I was on the phone to Ellie (consoling the latest crisis in her life…Tim feeding changing JJ) my mother cooked us a meal…took some home and then left.

Not once did I hear any type of critisim from her about how I was dealing with JJ, not once did I hear any assvice on the wrongs and rights of what I was doing…At one point JJ had cracked it big time and the only way he would sleep was cuddled in my arms…My mother looked at me, when I was trying to convince her to have a break and told me that the most important job I was doing was loving, cuddling and resting with my son.

Today is my first day home with JJ all by myself…solo…am a little nervous…excited and anxious about how I will cope…Wednesday Mum is coming over again armed with more food she wants to cook for us…

Any suggestions about how I can repay my mother for her help would be grateful as I have no idea…

The Birth Story

The Birth story

You’ll have to forgive me if it is all over the place as I’m going by memory here. After I posted on Monday I went back to my bedroom and Tim suggested that I call the hospital with my condition. The midwife suggested that I last out until my OB appointment and then let him make the decision on when to come in, it was too early in the ‘labour’ part to go into the hospital.

My appointment was schedule for 10:30am, I mentioned to the receptionist that I was in the midst of having contractions, but there were 2 women before me, so I had to sit in the waiting room, dealing with the pain. Then of course as usually happens Dr OB was called away to deliver a baby. When I did finally get to see the midwife I was told, not to go home but go straight to the hospital for an assessment from the OB.

We didn’t even have our bags with us, I was not prepared for going straight to the hospital, I had assumed that I would go home and deal with the pain until it really started getting regular…but oh no…that was not the case.

Assessment done, 1 cm dilated and he decided to break my waters ‘to get this labour going properly’. Throughout the rest of the time I was in there I was constantly told by this guy that “I was not in proper labour”. Waters broke…no pain but boy was it a weird feeling, like a gush of hot water that you have no control over.

I remember him commenting that he didn’t like the colour of the water…at this point I was staring into Tim’s eyes telling him not to look down there in Hungarian….over and over…don’t look….don’t look….don’t look. Bobim had done a poo in my uterus…so I was put on a monitor. Not the way I wanted to deal with labour pains as I wanted to be able to walk around.

Waters broke at 12pm…contractions started that morning at 2:49am. I was then informed by Dr OB that he would not be available to deliver this baby between 5pm and 11pm as he had a prior commitment but his partner was on call. I was also informed that he would be back at 4pm.

Tim and I settled into a dizziness of pain, panting and TV watching. I was also not allowed to eat anything. 4pm comes and no real change, contractions very irregular, but stronger. He takes one look at that monitor and says baby is doing fine and you still are not in labour. I will be back at 11pm.

Again the hours seem to blur into dealing with the pain and TV watching, at some point I convinced the midwife to allow me to stand instead of sit and move around a bit. At one point I was put to bed to try to relax and get some sleep, the contractions died away to 20 minutes apart. Standing was the best position but it was also very tiring.
11pm comes and by this time I’ve dealt with 3 different midwifes, they got nicer as the time went on. We get a phone call from Dr OB telling us that he would not be able to come in for some hours as he was called away to another hospital for an emergency caesarean. At this point I lost it…I started crying and telling the midwife how disappointed I was in him and felt like I was not that important. By this stage, even if he thought that I was not in proper labour I was dealing with pain constantly and I wanted this baby out.

Sleeping tablet and panadol were prescribed to me at this point…I was not given anything stronger as I’m allergic to codeine. I was never offered Gas, pathadine or an epidural I guess because everyone felt that I was still in the early first stage of labour. Tim was also sent home at this point to get some sleep.

Dr OB would be back at 5am. I was able to sleep in between the contractions but woke everytime I had one, at this stage I’m in bed and I didn’t care for breathing quietly, I moaned like I was a cow, I wanted the whole hospital to know that I was in real fucking pain, even though the ‘professionals’ didn’t think so.

2:40am I hear Dr OB voice out side the room, he sticks his head in and tells me that he has another delivery next door, but wanted to check on my progress. An internal was done and I was 3cm dilated, this gutted me. After 24 hours of dealing with this pain I was only 3cm gone….7cm left.

His plan was to then let me go until 7am when they would give me a drip to help progress the labour along. An IV needle was put into my wrist. I was in disbelief that he wanted me to just continue along for god knew how long.

Then he was called away as the lady next door was delivering her baby…I heard everything…her moans, screams and worse of all the baby’s first cries. I then sobbed and sobbed, here I was over 12 hours in that room working through the pain the best way I knew how, whilst strapped to a machine and this lady waltz’s in and has her baby before I do…to me life was not fair.

The midwife came in and took one look at me, comforted me and then went and spoke to Dr OB. Time was then 3:00am, when he came back in and spoke to me about surgery, I asked him if there was any chance of surgery and he said sure there was a chance but he would not be available until 1pm that afternoon.

In shock I sat there and half listened to his ramblings about scheduled surgeries…where I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else, I was struggling and I couldn’t make it through to the end, I was tired and frantic to have Bobim out. Then next thing I remember him saying was that he wouldn’t get any sleep as it was that night and that he could call everyone and get them in for the surgery now….I think that I started begging him….please now….right this minute.

I called Tim back into the hospital and within 45 minutes everyone was in the hospital and I was being wheeled into theater. Honestly I was never more happier to know that I was not going to suffer another 5 to 7 hours longer.

Hearing our son cry was just amazing, hearing him cough and spew was frightening. After the event it became apparent that I would’ve never been able to deliver my son naturally as he was stuck on my pelvic bone and they had to use forceps to remove him.

I look at him now and do not regret the decision I made to beg for surgery. The pain of recovery is nothing to the thought of having to deal with the pain of labour longer. I have surprised myself and Tim about how I’ve dealt with the pain of recovery.

It was the start

Monday morning a week ago was the start of a very long and tiring journey.

I'm happy to announce the birth of Jordan Jared Sebestyen, who was born on the 15th August at 4:50 am weighing in at 2.72kg (5.99 pounds) length of 51cm, delivery through an emergency c-section.

We are home now as you can guess...

How am I? Well I don't think that anything could have prepared me for the emotions of the last week. At times I feel as though I have things under control but mostly I'm over whelmed with the inadequateness of my skills as a Mother.

Tim and I are in awe of him, we can't believe that we made something so precious and whom we love so much....

Birth story to follow...

Here are some photo's:

****Updated*****

Sorry about no photo's but am having a lot of problems with uploading photo's to this blog...if any of you have any suggestions please let me know..

Oh and thank you for all your warm wishes...

Family and caves

So much has happened since I last wrote and not all of it is good. I received a few emails stating: “I hope that you are relaxing and not stressing and enjoying your time at home”.

HUH….now that is funny, I don’t think my family understands the meaning of the words relaxation and stress-free!! Here is a snapshot of my life with my family:
*) Dad in hospital with a suspect Angina attack…yet again
*) Dad out of hospital with a bad virus
*) Mum not being able to cope with Dad’s aggressiveness and who does she turn to??
*) Sister calling nearly every day wanting to ‘Pop’ in for a visit…read pop in for a snoop and gossip about parents
*) Sister and Ellie visit where sister demands I choose between her and my parents when inviting people for the christening of my child (who may I remind you is YET TO BE BORN)
*) BIL cracking it that I’ve asked Ellie to be the God Mother
*) Sister lies and says that I’ve thrown out all the ‘gifts’ (read bribes) from the babies room.

I could go on but I won’t has this it is not helping, I’m just getting more upset thinking about all the things that have been said and done during the last week and a bit.

I’ve not needed my cave of silence, blackness for a long time. I’ve been happy to be apart of the world, living life and dare I say looking forward to the future. But I feel the call of my cave more than ever. Locking myself away from the world or family and not having to deal with other peoples shit.

Perhaps I’ve had too high expectations on what this child would mean to my family….Happiness, joy and love... Was I wrong to expect this?

After so many years of trying, failing, miscarrying, crying, drugs, procedures, doctors and money, I only have 26 days left till this baby pops out and I would’ve thought that my family would be a little happy. But instead it is almost a daily event where me and mine are put on the back burner and I’m being forced to deal with other peoples shit. Whether it be jealousy, anger, disappointments or extreme expectations.

When is it my time to relax, enjoy the last few days of this pregnancy, and prepare for our life change and generally getting over the fear of the impending birth?

I deliberately left work early to enjoy this time at home and maybe it is my own expectations that were far out of reach. I had so much planned, wanted to do so much to prepare but I feel that my family thinks that they are entitled to my time now that there is more of it!

It has not been all that bad and I have achieved a few things off my list…right now though I feel very used and abused by my family. Even a bit hurt that my needs have been pushed aside for their crap, almost like their feelings are more important than mine.

Mixed bag

Work

I’m done, I’ve finished up. The last week of work I only ended up working 3.5 days. I’ve spoken about the fever and the sickness so won’t go there again. On the Thursday there was a nice lunch at one of the restaurants close to work. 30 people from my department went, I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want the fuss as I just wanted to leave without being noticed. It was nice and quick.

On the Friday the Project Manager that I had been working with for the last 2 years gave a nice speech, although I was totally unprepared for the reference to all the IF treatments and heart aches we went through to conceive and keep Bobim. I didn’t cry but it was very hard. My words back to the department were rushed and mumble. I think that I said something along the lines of “I’m looking forward to my new job of sleepless nights, crying baby and dirty nappies and see you all in a year”.

This is what we received from my colleagues:


Me

Friday night saw me have the worst night sleep ever….ever really? Yes ever! I couldn’t sleep lying down because of the wheezing and choking. Coughing had me throwing up most of the night. Tried to sleep sitting up but seemed to only manage maybe 3 hours total. At one point I was preparing to wake Tim to take me to the hospital. But decided to wait it out until the morning and see the GP again.

Diagnosis = Sever Bronchitis and if I had left it longer…possible pneumonia. So an on antibiotics and a puffer thing to help me cough up the shit in my lungs. I’m happy to report that I’m well on the way to recovery..not there yet but much better than I was.

Parents

My parents arrived home in the early hours of Wednesday morning…read midnight on Tuesday. I was woken yesterday morning to a phone call my mum to come over and take her to the Dr. She had a migraine from the anxiety and the trip. What a way to greet my parents…my mother throwing up and delirious. My Father with his arm so bruised it looks like something out of a horror movie. He had suffered a bad fall whilst overseas and didn’t want to tell me….cause I’m pregnant.

First week of freedom

From work? Freedom you have got to be kidding!!! I had Ellie and Tina with me from Sunday night till Tuesday and whilst I love them to death both of them here when I’m not feeling 100% was just a bit too much. But I didn’t feel that I could say no, plus part of me wanted them to be here.

Today is the first day that I’ve had to myself and just the simple task of doing the laundry this morning has given me a great deal of joy…go figure I know. But it is something that I’ve been wanting to do. This afternoon I plan on going to curtain places to organise quotes for Bobims room.

Speaking about Bobim’s room, I have a whole post with photo’s in the works to show you all what we have done.

Eyes wide shut

I had a minor freak out yesterday, after realising that I only have 26 more working days till I leave work to become a Mum. This idea totally freaked me out…“I’m leaving work to become a Mum….fuck when did that happen?”

I must be going through life with my eyes wide shut, during my IF / TTC time I never thought of being and staying pregnant…never thought beyond the next blood test, next u/s, and next cycle. So you can imagine my total shock of going to OB appointments where I have certificates saying I’m attending “For Management of Pregnancy”….Management of Pregnancy me…yeah right. I still can’t believe that tonight again I’m attending another pre-natal class; all the bruising in my arms indicated that I still pinch myself in disbelief.

If by now I haven’t got my head around being pregnant, imagine how I haven’t even had a wavering thought of the birth and life after. By attending the class, I feel as though I’m just going through the motions. I’m almost waiting for someone to run up to me with a camera saying “Candid Camera.”

Mimi just laughed at me when I was saying 26 more days till I leave work and then went utterly still and deathly pale. No, no, no it can’t be right, after so many years I can’t be leaving work to become a mother…..because that means I have to push this wiggly moving somersaulting thing out of me…..and responsible for a new life….and my dream finally coming true…can it really be real?

“Long deep breaths, long deep breaths….oh fuck…lush green fields, lush green field…oh shit that isn’t helping…little valley near a creak, little valley near a creak…OMG”

My first Mothers Day

I didn’t want to make a big deal but I did want it to be acknowledged that I am a mother, or one in the making. I didn’t want a big fancy gift from Mimi marking the occasion, what I did ‘need’ was a nightie to wear when in the hospital.

Most of the day was celebrated at my MIL house where SIL was also present. Our little nephew has grown so much and I got to have a little cuddle which I’m always grateful for. The day for me was just right, SIL and I had a really good discussion about many topics, but mainly about pregnancy, babies and family expectations. It was a good afternoon, it would’ve been better if my mother was in the country. I missed my Mummy that day.

Today

16th of May 1976 was the date and year of my birth. I turn 30 today, do I feel different? No, do I feel 30? No. It is almost just like another day.

I have no big plans to celebrate today, which my sister has given me non-stop grief. I don’t feel in the mood to celebrate with many people. I’m happy to celebrate with my husband on our own. After last years fiasco with G and Zs celebrations of my Birthday going haywire. I didn’t feel the need for a repeat.

The many past Birthday wishes have been answered and I couldn’t think of wanting anything else than being pregnant with my first baby on this day. That is the entire gift that I needed or wanted, I’m happy with having this little somersaulting miracle in my belly.

I wonder if anyone else has felt this way before.

Crying Baby

I can’t seem to get my SIL and her little boy of my mind, Easter Sunday I got to witness first hand how much she adores her child and how well he is looked after and loved.

Up until this point, my assumptions were purely based on what MIL had told us and the situation was reported as being grim, no love, constant crying by both baby and mother, not feeding correctly and so on.

I should’ve learnt by now that I shouldn’t listen to people and form my own opinions. In this case I didn’t and part of me feels guilty. Last Sunday our little boy fought the need to sleep, it was better to stay awake and look around. But he was tired so mummy had wrapt him up and held him until he fell asleep. A short time later he woke up and started crying, Mummy tried to settle him but he fought it and started getting really annoyed.

It was amazing to see that as soon as he was held, he went straight back to sleep, within seconds. SIL and I took him out to the living room and I got to hold him while he slept.

MIL steps in and starts saying how with her 3 kids none of them cried that much during the day and that our little boy was just a ‘bad baby’. I was quite upset seeing how SIL was being worked up; it is not her fault that her child cries.

As we were leaving I turned to SIL and told her that she was doing a fantastic job! She cried a little and her husband admitted that she didn’t believe that she was doing a good job.

The next morning I turned to the book that I have beside my bed, Baby Love by Robin Baker just to see what she said about crying baby:
Feelings of guilt, loss of confidence and loss of self esteem may come from within or may be triggered off by heath professionals, partners, grandparents or the neighbour. Women whose baby cry a lot often become isolated simply because even if they can accept the crying, others can’t.

A mother with a crying baby may feel disappointed when a much-loved beautiful baby doesn’t come up to everyone’s expectations – ‘not a good baby’. Disappointment might turn to anger as the mother tries harder and harder and becomes more and more exhausted.
From Baby Love by Robin Baker
I’m guessing (as I don’t know yet) that having a new baby can be a tough time and more than anything you need support not criticism or being made to feel guilty. It got worse as the afternoon wore on and as he woke up again MIL started hassling SIL that the baby had a sore stomach or was hungry or thirsty, which was not the case. I’m still so appalled as to how SIL was treated and dominated by her own mother, I just wish that there was more than I could have done for my SIL.

It also terrifies me to think that if SIL wasn’t in the house, MIL would’ve automatically fed something to the child as she thought his tummy was sore or he was thirsty.

The lessons I have learnt from this are:
- Not to listen to MIL about SIL
- Not allow negativity to dominate our conversations
- Grow and stronger back bone to deal with MIL when Bobim arrives
- Leaving Bobim with MIL will be done with strict instructions, or not at all.

I should put a sign on our door in Hungarian and English….Negative Comments and unwarranted advice are not welcome here!!!

Home alone

Tim is off at G’s bachelor party and I have been left on my own. We had discussed this earlier in the week and I encouraged him to stay over instead of coming home and Risk driving after a few drinks. It is a very rare thing that Tim goes out with the boys and it gave me the chance to do some laundry and watch what I wanted to watch on TV….or so I thought.

I have just spent the last 30 minutes walking around the house sobbing, like I’ve lost a pet. There is no reason for me to be feeling this way, we live in a safe neighbour hood, so safe in fact that we often sleep with the front door open.

I wouldn’t call it being scared but I do feel vulnerable, uncertain, I miss feeling secure that my husband is in the house. It is all rather stupid but I can’t help feeling so very alone and almost like he doesn’t care…..oh the joys of pregnancy hormones.

I feel like calling him and begging him to come home, so that I will feel more safe……but I will resist and have a nice shower, read in bed then go to sleep.

Happy 65th Birthday Anyu

It was my mothers 65th Birthday on the 20th of Feb, however we didn’t get to celebrate until last night when we all (excluding my sister and BIL) went to an Hungarian Restaurant.

Before the Restaurant we stopped off a Anyu’s place to surprise her with some gifts and take some photo’s. I tried to make this Birthday really special, I mean 65 years is a bid deal. Instead of buying the gift that is needed like an Iron I bought her something to just spoil her. A Ruby pendant and a big bunch of Roses (you see the roses in the photo).

It is a rare thing that my parents get to see my niece, it is a long story why, short version is for some reason Sister and BIL and parents are not talking and haven’t really spoken in years.

So any opportunity that my parents have to see the girls is when they are at my place and every time they see them photo’s are taken. Here is a picture of Ellie, Anyu, Tina and Apu sitting in the chair. Aren’t they all beautiful!

Low GI

I forgot to mention that I finally met with the Dietician the other week. I was referred to her to help maintain or even lose weight whilst pregnant and reduce the risk of gestational diabetes.

Whilst it was good listening to what she had to say about the Glycemic Index, it was so in your face obvious that she had no clue when it came to pregnancy. She recommended that I go on a Low GI diet, which just screamed FAD FAD FAD diet, but had some truth to it, low sugar levels means lower risk of the diabetes.

We discussed my problems with cooking dinner, cause I told her honestly that for me that is the most difficult meal of the day, by the time I get home from work, I’m 1) so hungry that take away is to much easier and 2) who wants to start cooking a lavish meal.

Some of the alternatives that she offered were very useful, like make Jacket potatoes, salads, kebabs and grilled meats. Then she went on to mention packet meals, you know the ones like Beef stroganoff where the sauce is in a powder form. I sat there staring at her wondering if she understood what preservatives meant…how can she be a professional dietician recommending 2-minute noodles as a meal alternative?

Needless to say I will not be seeing her again, I will simply go back on the Sure Slim diet that was Low GI and work on making sure that I eat fresh healthy food.

Happy New Year

We had a quiet night last night, I couldn’t stay up until midnight as I had crashed by 10:30pm. I’m glad that we didn’t do anything as I knew that I wouldn’t make it the whole night.

But boy was it bloody hot here! We’ve had the a/c going for the past 48 hours and I’m praying that today we get some relief with a cool change.

I’m looking forward to this year, Tim’s sister is having her baby in Feb, I’m possibly having mine in August, it is our 10 year wedding anniversary this year and I’m turning 30. Much to look forward to, feeling very positive and optimistic about the new year!

To all my cyber blog friends, I wish you all the happiness, love and peace for this New Year and to my infertile friends; I wish that this year be ‘the’ year for you!