Birth story: chapter three

Chapter three: high

So suddenly there was a good looking student doctor introducing himself to me, and a contraction comes on and I’m trying to be polite. The midwives offered me sterile water injections as I was in so much pain and it was mostly in my back. The catch was I had to be incredibly still as a contraction came on for them to put it in. Didn’t think I’d be able to. So I declined.

Then one of the midwives suggested I tried the gas. I hesitated but agreed. This is where the real fun began.

As instructed I inhaled the gas as a contraction came on. I thought it may taste foul, but it didn’t taste like anything. But boy, did it have an affect! I started saying “wow! That is great!” I turned to Hendrik asking if he wanted some. I then recall laughing hysterically. I was definitely on a high. Did it do anything for the pain? Probably not. But it was great!

Despite not being allowed to have a waterbirth, I could get in the bath for pain relief, which was bliss. We all wandered down to the bath room (I stumbled down there). We took the gas too. In I got into the bath, fully naked. It was nice. Except for the fully naked part. I had actually packed Hendrik’s bathers as well so that he could get in too. Didn’t happen. Hendrik ended up going downstairs to get some sushi. He asked if I wanted any. Of course bloody not!

While Hendrik was gone, I was laying there naked in the bath feeling rather awkward. I started talking to the young doctor… “So…. Which uni do you go to? Oh… Monash! Right, I wanted to go there.. I went to La Trobe..” You know, small talk. As much as I could to distract myself from being big fat and naked in a bath with people watching.

My contractions were getting stronger and that urge to pee was not going away. I couldn’t though no matter how I tried. I sucked and sucked on the gas like crazy. Jess checked the baby’s heartbeat. It was over 165. They told me they would check again in 5 minutes and if it was still at that rate I had to get out.

Hendrik came back and said that my Mum had been trying to call. I really didn’t want to worry her, but obviously when she had tried the home phone, my phone and Hendrik’s phone for a number of hours and couldn’t get through she was getting suspicious… and worried. I actually planned not to tell anyone, including my parents until after I had given birth. Hendrik asked if he could call her, and I agreed. She needed to know that I was okay. He went outside and made the phone call.

Meanwhile, Jess checked the heart rate of the baby and it hadn’t gone down. I had to get out of the bath, which was a real shame because I was really enjoying the warm water. Hendrik came back in and said that he had spoken to my Mum, and that she was very happy.

Suddenly when I got out of the bath, got my clothes back on (no bra, no undies. Who cares), I began to cry as I made my way back to the birthing suite. Jess asked what was wrong, and I couldn’t really pin point it. Then she said, “okay, that’s enough gas I think.” Apparently it can make you teary if you have too much, and I’d obviously been having too much of a good time.

The good-looking doctor had gone to lunch. I was alone with the midwives and Hendrik. The contractions were becoming unbearable. I tried the gas again but it had lost its affect. I was sucking so hard and then just screaming because it hurt so much! Then between the contractions something remarkable happened. I was on the biggest high I have ever been in my life. One midwife came over to me and checked my pulse. I looked at her eyes. They were this beautiful, greeny-bluish colour, just like mine. I then told her, “you have such beautiful eyes”. Jess came over a bit later and I noticed her eyes were the same colour. “You have beautiful eyes too!”

The contractions grew stronger and the midwives had to put a catheter in to drain my bladder as I felt so like I needed to pee and couldn’t. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I feared it would, and it definitely took away that horrible, uncomfortable sensation.

Jess then said she was leaving and I was mortified. But she left me in the hands of another midwife that told me I had to stop screaming. Her name was Kelsey. Kelsey told me that the pushing part is easier, because you can actually focus on putting the pain somewhere. Pfft. Yeah right?

Then a mega beast of a contraction came. I screamed like I was about to die. I was now in so much pain. I asked for what I never thought I would, and that’s an epidural. The midwife almost laughed. It was way too late for that. I started saying some really stupid things like, “there’s got to be another way!” and “I don’t want a baby!” I think the midwives are used to this.

Then suddenly, there was a very weird sensation. I felt something leaking. And then I gave the biggest scream I have ever screamed in my entire life…

(to be continued...)

Birth Story: Chapter two

Chapter two: the beginning...

It was 1am onWednesday, the 21^st of March 2012 when I felt a twinge. I got up togo to the loo and told my husband I thought I could be in labour. I keptgetting these strange feelings in my stomach, like a pain. They would come andgo at different times. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. If this is what labourwas, it was going to be easy. How wrong I was!

Hendrik insisted Icalled the Midwife. I got on the phone and the midwife told me not to worry.She said that it sounded like I still had a fair way to go. She explained thatcontractions generally get worse with time, and that they would gradually worktheir way into my back. She also told me that they would be more regular andcloser together.

By 5am I thought theyhad gotten worse and closer so I rang the midwife again. Because I had rang asecond time, and I sounded like I had absolutely no idea what I was talkingabout, she asked me to come in at 9am for an assessment.

We got up, hadshowers, ate breakfast and were down at the hospital by nine. I was in mypyjamas still. We had put the bag in the car for my hospital stay.

A nice midwife calledJess came and took me to a consultation room. Hendrik happily told her that Ihad a sister called Jess also. She hooked me up to a machine to monitor thebaby’s heartbeat and my contractions. She made me press a button whenever I hada contraction.

After two hours hookedup to this machine, Jess feeling my stomach, she then said that she wanted todo an internal. An in-WHAT? I explained that I was totally not okay with this,but really, it had to be done. I think I may have cried.

I was already 3cm ofthe way to a baby! I was excited, because this meant I was in pain for a goodreason.

Then Jess said, “okay,you can go home now”. Go home? Am I not having a baby today? She then explainedI needed to go home, because if I stayed there they may start inducing me orsomething. So home we went.

I woke up severaltimes throughout the night when the contractions seemed to be getting into myback. I called the midwifes a few times and they told me several things, that Ishould have a warm shower. So I had a 2 hour shower (or so it seemed). Istarted using a TENS machine, which is like electric pulses that go down yourback to confuse the pain. At first it worked, but in the end it just felt likeit was burning a hole in my back.

That night I calledthe midwife again and she told me to use a warm pack on my back and have apanadol. I had bought a warm pack for labour off eBay – one of those liquidones that ‘frost up’ when you press the little button inside and they heat up.I should have tested it a few weeks before, because it didn’t work!

The pain got so badthat I began to scream every time I got a contraction. Hendrik ‘breathed’ withme, but eventually I felt like I couldn’t do all that stupid breathing theytalk about. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even pee. Something felt so wrong.

By Friday morning (sotwo days later), Hendrik told me to stop calling the midwives and being bubbly.He told me to seriously call them and tell them that I am in so much pain. Idid. A contraction came on while I was on the phone and so they then insisted Icome in.

It was raining veryheavily. Hendrik dropped me at the entrance of the hospital and I went in.Suddenly everything became overwhelming and I began to cry. I sat on a littlechair and cried while Hendrik parked the car in the ridiculously expensivecarpark. A pregnant lady came and asked if I was okay (remembering that Ididn’t even look pregnant. Just fat). I explained the events of the last 48hours as this stranger comforted me. She said that she would be doing the samething in the next few weeks.

Hendrik arrived and wewent upstairs where midwife Jess met us and took us straight into theconsultation room. She did another one of those horrible examinations, and saidthat I was now 6-7cm. 

She immediately gave me a room, Hendrik got my bags, andI settled in.

I had wanted a waterbirth from the beginning. Every time I had called the midwife I reminded themof this. Jess came in and sadly broke the news to me that I couldn’t have awater birth as there was nobody on that day who was trained to do one. My heartshattered. It was going to be my way to get through labour. I didn’t know how Iwas going to now.

Not long after that,the head-midwife came in and asked a favour. There was a student doctor whoneeded to witness a birth. I said sure, thinking the more the merrier. How Iregretted it when he walked in, was actually rather good looking and muchyounger than I was. I didn’t want that nice young man staring where the sundoesn’t shine!

(to be continued... stay tuned)

Birth Story: Chapter One

Chapter one ~ The High Tea

It had been a long and difficult pregnancy, although it did only seem like yesterday when I saw those two lines staring at me, and rushing to my friends house to ask for advice in the middle of the night.

I was certain that I was going to ‘go’ early. At 37 weeks I waited and waited. I knew something was going to happen. But barely a braxon hicks contraction. Nothing. I really wanted to go early and have a special leap year baby born on the 29^th of February.

The three weeks before my due date I spent viciously cleaning the house. I was restlessly nesting. But nothing was happening. My due date came and went, and I was still pregnant. I wasn’t looking forward to the birth, but I was so sick of being pregnant. I had been sick for the whole thing. I didn’t see much magic in pregnancy. I wasn’t excited or had any of these feelings that other people seemed to have for me.

Then it happened.

I was on the couch doing my usual pregnant thing. Being lazy, checking Facebook, pinning things on Pinterest. Something on facebook popped up about spare tickets to a High Tea run by Light FM. I was hesitant at first, given that I was already 40 weeks pregnant and more than likely it would be in a different area of Melbourne. But then I asked if I could come along. Why not. It was aimed at mothers, and I was about to become one. Instantly, Lucy, the presenter of their morning show emailed me the details for the high tea the next morning. As I thought, it was on the other side of Melbourne, but I didn’t care as I was going a little crazy being at home all the time.

I was 40 weeks and 3 days when the High Tea was on. I walked in and felt a little awkward at first, but then people started talking to me, and casually asking, “so when are you due”, to which I would reply, “last Friday”. People gave me a look of, ‘are you crazy’, but were generally very nice about it. Lucy so desperately wanted me to go into labour there and then: it would make a great on-air story she said.

I had no feeling of anything happening any time soon. Although, I was a first-timer, I didn’t know what to expect. Was labour so spontaneous that it just comes on while you’re casually eating cake?

The High Tea was great. Sharon from the circle spoke about being isolated, as did GI Jane. I was really glad they spoke about this because it was something I knew I may struggle with, given that I live a fair distance from everybody these days. I got a manicure, and ate these fantastic strawberries.

I didn’t want it to end, because I really liked having people around to talk to. On my way out the crew handed me a showbag and told me their tips to bring on labour: eat spicy food and go for a brisk walk.

I was beginning to get a little desperate. I was already past my due date and I hear it is horrible to be induced. When I got home I began ferociously cleaning a bookcase. Then I went on a fast walk to the mailbox. I almost died walking to the mailbox. It’s outside a milkbar and I had totally lost my breath. I think I worried a few teenagers sitting outside with their cool energy drinks. The problem is, I didn’t look pregnant, I just looked fat. So it looked like a scene from The Biggest Loser.

That evening my husband Hendrik came home. We decided not to cook dinner, but to eat the spicy chips that I got in the showbag. They were nice, but wow were they spicy. I thought I may regret it later as I had suffered pretty bad heartburn the whole pregnancy.

I watched some TV to give the chips a chance to reach my stomach and then went to bed. I slept really well, until about 1am…

That’s when ‘it’ started.

(stay tuned for chapter two)

Ode to Lilly

I remember in the olden days, our local supermarket was called 'Toms'. This was before I was even at school. Funnily enough I found Toms-labelled food in my Mothers pantry when I was home. Let's just say it went straight in the bin. From Toms it became United, and then gradually became a part of South-Australian chain 'Foodland'.

I'm getting side tracked.

Back in the days of Toms, I remember if you bought heaps of shopping, there were actually people who would help it be carried to your car. This was particularly good for the elderly. I don't see this happen anymore (although at Toms, I mean Foodland, it may still happen. Small town.)

It's 2011. I live in the big smoke. I never see anyone at my local Coles help anyone out. This may be because what I've known has been a small town thing, or gradually something that can't happen due to OHS. Nobody helps put your groceries in your car any more. It's every man for himself.

I go to our Coles nearly every day. I find something in our house that needs to be bought. Really, it's just an excuse to get out of the house and go somewhere.

Lilly is a lovely middle aged lady who would be older than my Mum. She calls people 'love' and 'darl'. She works at my local Coles. She is often found on the self serve kiosks. Today I had a lot of shopping and she was on a regular check out.

Lilly and I don't talk a lot, but she seems to know who I am. She has probably been watching my growing bump and wondering when I will pop. When she saw me she surely thought, "hasn't she had that baby yet?"

Lilly gave me heaps of plastic bags and I'm not sure why. She seemed to put only two items in each bag. She must know I might have a need for them soon.

I had started putting the shopping in the trolley when she had finished scanning all of my items and I needed to pay. I began scrounging through my purse for my credit card, all the while doing this, Lilly left the register and... put the rest of the shopping in my trolley for me!

At the end of the transaction she smiled sweetly and told me to "have a lovely day, love!"

I put my own groceries in my car. But the fact that someone went that extra mile for a heavily pregnant lady touched me.

We need more Lilly's in customer service. We need more Lilly's in the world.

I was so chuffed, I left the dollar in my shopping trolley. Bum.

I love your smile

Yesterday afternoon I woke from my afternoon nap. 

You were sitting on the kitchen table, earphones in. 

I know that was really considerate of your pregnant wife having a nap. Thank you.

I know you were just watching something daggy on Youtube.

But I can't forget your smile.

It was from ear to ear.

I've been thinking about that smile all day.

Smile, darling.

It brings so much sunshine to my life...

Five Minute Friday - Brave

Setting the timer and five minute blogging... on a Saturday...

BRAVE

Being pregnant has taught me a lot about being brave.

I used to have massive anxiety issues. They peaked when I left home and went to university. I learnt how to deal with it when I left uni, and began working. I conquered some massive things in my life that I never thought I would do, such as (OMG HENDRIK SHUT UP I'M TRYING TO BLOG!) driving in Melbourne, going to Jakarta. Then I actually braved up and moved to Melbourne, which was scary not only in the 'bigness' of it, but also the financial side.

I've been coping well. I've gone back to uni, graduated again, had a few jobs, got married and then... When I thought my anxiety was over...

I got pregnant.

It opens up a whole new space of vulnerability. A girl who is scared of needles suddenly had to have heaps of blood tests. I had to have tests done, and although nothing was ever wrong, it always caused a trace of anxiety.

But by the time you get to the birth, you're over it. No more anxiety. Just be brave.

STOP

How I met your father

When I was almost 18, my friends were trying to talk me into going clubbing in Adelaide. I was a goody two shoes that never drank alcohol. When you live in a small country town, you're usually the only one. Most people don't wait until they're 18 to be getting drunk when they're 'legal'.

Clubbing totally wasn't my scene. I heard horror stories about drink spiking and guys wanting to rub up against you and take your money. It wasn't that I wasn't a social person, I just didn't like that scene.

My friends told me that I should go clubbing to meet my future husband, and told me I was ridiculous because I'd end up meeting him 'at church'.

Fast forward five years, this is how I met your father.

I was unemployed and living in Bendigo. By unemployed I mean I was actually doing some relief teaching work, but not a lot. I had just completed a 4 week relief teaching stint in Melbourne and decided I wanted to get back into the Indonesian community by involving myself in a Church in Melbourne. I started going every Sunday night, and even went to their social gatherings such as outings to the snow and their small groups on a Friday night. Mind you, I was living in Bendigo at the time to travel was 2 hours on the train.

My Mum was in Africa, and asked me to go back to my home town to house/cat/dog/fish sit for a few weeks, being that it was school holidays anyway. Meanwhile, your father had decided to try out my church in Melbourne, but I was not there. Funnily enough, he met his ex-pastor and ex-sunday school student (all now grown up and at university!) He kept going while I was at home making silly videos in my sisters bedroom.

When I finally got back to Bendigo, my friend, who was also your fathers ex-sunday school student, told me that there would be our regular 'small group', but to meet at the Crown Casino on Friday night.

At Crown, there's a lot of food and restaurants that range from uni student price to incredibly expensive. Unbeknown to me, we were going somewhere which was reasonably... expensive.

When we got into the restaurant the whole church was there. One of the church members parents wanted to treat the whole church for a fancy dinner. And here I was in my daggy jeans!

This is the magical moment when I met your father. My friend sat in between us and introduced us. She said that this was her Sunday school teacher. We got talking, we talked about Indonesia and so many different things. I thought he was a nice guy, but couldn't help but notice the ring he was wearing on his finger (not knowing what rings on fingers mean what at this time). I think I really shocked him when I spoke Indonesian with him.

Man, your father really liked to talk! When you meet your Grandmother you'll know where he gets it from.

We exchanged numbers, he looked at me over his glasses and said "we must keep in contact". And with that, I made a Cinderella dash back to the train station and back to Melbourne.

This isn't where the story ends. There's more about trains yet...

I kept making the weekly commute to Melbourne every week for Church. All of my Church friends said they'd never come to Bendigo because they couldn't stand sitting on a train for that long. But not your father! He told me that he would love to see Bendigo! (And he did, but that's another story for another time).

I was still wondering if your father was a single man with a ring. Your father was such a nice guy, I was pretty sure he was a bit older, and would already have a nice Indonesian wife and kids by now.

One night after church we all went out for dinner. Luckily we went to an Indonesian restaurant in Glenferrie, so I could afford it. The plan was to eat dinner and then get the train back to Bendigo.

My train left at 8:15pm. In order to get on that train, I had to get the train from Glenferrie to connect up with the train at Southern Cross.

As I left my friends, I started walking alone up to the station. I could hear the train coming so I began to run.

... I missed the train by two seconds...

Luckily I still had time to make it to Southern Cross, providing there was another train within 20 minutes.

I waited anxiously for the screen to change and say "next train to Flinders Street 20 minutes"...

I waited.......... next train to Flinders Street..... 40 minutes. Leaving...... 8:15.... When my train to Bendigo leaves.

I had missed my train!

Okay, I'll stop being over-dramatic. There was another train at 10:15, but that would mean getting home past midnight and I had to drive to Benalla for a PD the next day.

I desperately texted my friends thinking they may drive back to the station and at least accompany me. They just laughed and asked what I was going to do. Luckily your father heard that I was stranded, and messaged me. He asked me if I was going to be okay. By this time I decided to go to the supermarket and buy some toothpaste to kill some time.

I was honest. It was going to be a long night. I joked and asked your father out for coffee at Flinders Street. He didn't take it as a joke, and with that, I caught the train from Glenferrie, and your father caught the train from Caulfield. As I saw your father emerge from the platform, I declared that I had won - that I had gotten to the station before he had! (Which has been an ongoing 'game' called 'I win' since that night).

We sat and had a coffee. Your father had a hot chocolate. He doesn't like coffee.

And what do people do over coffee? They talk. We told each other our life stories. Well, your father told me mine. See, your father likes to talk so much I could barely get a word in.

I had to go to another station to get my final train. Luckily this time it was only one stop. I went to shake your father's hand - that's what good Indonesian girls do. To my surprise, your father hugged me. I didn't think Indonesian people hugged until they were married!

I got on my train and smiled all the way home.

The next day I got up early and drove to my PD, not tired at all. I was high on love.

I kept getting a phone call from a random Melbourne number. You guessed it, it was your father. He was checking up on me to make sure I got home okay. I gave him my home number and told him to call me at night, because I was busy at the PD!

Your father called me every night and talked for at least 2 hours... And then he went to Thailand for 2 weeks. I was devastated. I didn't know how I was going to cope with him not being in contact. But your father was only pretending to work in Thailand. Actually, he was too busy writing long emails and sending sms.

In the emails we talked about meeting up once he came home from Thailand. First it was coffee in the city, then it was coffee in St. Kilda. Then it was a picnic on the beach at St. Kilda with a bottle of wine.

I got up early on a Sunday morning to meet your father. This time I didn't take the train - I drove. Your father was waiting for me with his new car. This time I didn't hesitate and gave him a hug. It was the 17th of August, and your father had just had his birthday, so I bought him a Picnic Rug, because I knew he liked picnics!

This was the kind of day it was

We went to St. Kilda together, and we went to the beach. It was so wet and windy so our plans for a picnic were 'washed out'.

All was not lost. On this day I tried my first ever Sashimi and San Churros.

We went back to the car as it was time for church. In the true Indonesian way, we were leaving at the time Church started (but that's okay, because it's an Indonesian church everyone does the same thing).

In the car your father began talking but going around in circles, "you know..... when I was in Thailand I was doing some thinking.... you know.... you give good response..." Over and over. Your father was obviously nervous. Perhaps just as insanely nervous as I was.

Finally he said, "I like you."

And me? I giggled like a little girl and said, "I like you too".

On the way back to church your father held my hand. My heart skipped a beat.

Later that night we went and saw Project Pop perform in Melbourne.

This, late at night, is where he asked me out.

Just before I got in my car to drive a long way back to Bendigo, in the Coles carpark in Caulfield, your father kissed me and asked me to be his girlfriend.

Your mother said, "yes".

(For those who didn't get it, "how I met your father" is a spin off of comedy show How I met your Mother)