Yesterday was Ash's birthday. After his birth, I wrote his story. It's been a while since I read it last... I thought I'd share it today. :o)
When I was pregnant with Ash, I was excited, if a little fearful of how and where I would birth. I desperately wanted another chance at birthing naturally. Home birth seemed out of the question, as it is so expensive. I had been told that I wouldn’t be able to go back to a birthing centre, as I had had a long and difficult birth that had resulted in a cesarean. Even so, I went along to the Mercy Family Birthing Centre to make sure that this option was in fact closed. It was. I left there thinking, “What now?” I was devastated, and in gut wrenching tears. The thought of birthing in a labour ward both saddened and scared me; I feared that doing so would result in another cesarean.
Some weeks later, I went along with a friend to Choices for Childbirth where the night’s topic was ‘VBAC’. I discovered that VBAC was a real possibility, and that home birth offered my best chance of achieving this. Not long after, I met Annie who was to become our midwife. I felt a rapport with her instantly. On our first meeting, we decided upon a home birth, and that we wanted Annie to be our primary midwife.
Having Annie as our midwife was fantastic. She helped make the whole pregnancy so normal, and emphasized that pregnancy is part of a woman’s wellness cycle, rather than a condition that needs to be managed. Annie included Taran in all of the consultations, having him help read my blood pressure and listen to the baby’s heart. He loved it. She had special books for him to take home to learn about the baby and coming birth. Taran’s favourite quickly became ‘Hello Baby’.
On the 31st of October, my pre-labour begins:
We are at the park, watching Taran play. I begin to feel vague pains, and tell Guy that something may slowly be happening. He looks at me with an expression that says, ‘are you sure?’ I know that it is nothing serious yet, so I try not to make a big deal of it. Walking through the park becomes increasingly difficult, and finally we go home.
Once home, I furiously polish the kettle and the toaster, and begin what turns into seven loads of washing. Even the daisy bush gets a prune. Kath and Marty are over for dinner, but I can’t sit still to spend much time with them. I enlist Kath’s help in hanging out washing and folding nappies. I am pleased that I don’t have to entertain them. My need to prepare for the baby is much greater. The pains continue, but not at an increased or regular rhythm, but they are there. Guy is watching me as I rush through the house, occasionally pausing. He suggests that we set up the birth pool, and shortly afterwards Kath and Marty leave. I do not get into the pool this night, but am pleased that it will be there for me ready when I need it. I go to bed, hoping to get the rest that I will need for the coming labour.
Throughout the night, I am irregularly awakened by pains as my cervix softens and thins, preparing to open for the birth of our baby. I try to relax and breathe my way through them, keeping calm. I realize that to get up now is pointless; to do so will sap me of the energy I will need once the labour is sincere.
2nd of November
After two nights of sleep broken by irregular contractions, I finally ease into the birth pool. It is pure bliss to be supported by the warm water. Taran gets in with me, excited that his new brother or sister will soon be here. By this stage, I am tired and a little frustrated. We arrange for Taran to spend the night with his Oma, as I desperately need rest. While Guy drives Taran to his Oma, I again get into the birth pool and alternate between resting and dancing in an attempt to get the labour moving. After some time, I get out and lay on the couch.
Suddenly, at about 7:30pm, things really start happening. The contractions become regular, and increasingly intense. I eat my dinner between contractions, then strip off and get back into the birth pool.
Being in the water is amazing. I can rest, with my whole body supported, floating behind me. I completely relax into each contraction without having to support myself. The water soothes away the pain, and creates a safe space in which to labour. I own my space and my birth experience.
At around 10pm, I ask Guy if we should call Annie. He says, “I’ll call her now if you want.” I reply, “No, wait.” Perhaps I hold some residual fear of a long and drawn out labour, and don’t want Annie to come so early that she would just have to go home again. At 10:30pm, I say “Annie.” Guy calls her, and she asks to talk to me. I won’t get out of the water, so she listens to me having a contraction. She hears me moan “Fuuuuuuuuck!” Annie asks Guy to tell me to get out of my head and be in my body. He promises to call later and let her know how I’m doing.
At 11pm, we decide it’s time for Kristy-Rae, our friend and support person, to come. Soon there is a knock on the door; Annie has arrived. I don’t open my eyes to look at her; I am so much in my own space. She comes to sit on a chair beside the pool, and places her hand gently but firmly between my shoulder blades. I feel my whole body relax, and feel able to go on again. Annie’s presence, right down to the scent of her perfume, feels reassuring and safe. Soon after, Kristy-Rae arrives. Again, I don’t look at her, but feel her presence, and recognize her scent.
The contractions are coming closer now. Annie helps me vocalise in lower, deeper tones so I don’t lose focus. She tells me, “You are so strong.” Around me are quiet and familiar sounds. Someone makes a coffee, and I hear the creaks of my own floors and furniture.
Between contractions, I reach for a drink of water, and spray my face with scented water. I feel the need to do this for myself. Someone holds a cool cloth to my forehead, or behind my neck. The same CD, Lisa Gerrard’s ‘Duality’, loops over and over. The repetition is good. I don’t have to find my space in new music.
By about 11:45pm, transition hits. I shake my head, saying “No.” Annie replies, “Yes! Yes you can! You are so strong!” She eases me into different positions which help the baby descend. Annie puts her fingers onto a point over my third eye. I lean into them, finding this helps me focus. She is soon telling me that if I reach between my legs, I will feel my baby’s head. I can! It feels soft and velvety. I smile, awed.
Before long, I feel my perineum begin to bulge and burn. Annie tells me I can push. I push, but feel no progress. Once I understand that I should hold my breath and bear down with each contraction, it is easier. Supporting my bulging perineum helps; I feel in control, able to ease my baby out under my own steam, in my own time.
I have always been a reasonably inhibited person, but now all my inhibitions fly out the window. I scream and roar with each push. At times I want to stop, but I know that I am the only person who can do this. I wait for the head to crown, emerge and turn, but it doesn’t. I roar as my baby slithers out in one final push. My baby slides from my body to rest at the bottom of the pool. I reach down to pick up my baby and cradle it in my arms. This is the most intense and satisfying moment of my life. I feel complete, whole, and somehow healed. My yells turn to soft sighs of pleasure. Finally I open my eyes and see everyone around me, their smiles mirroring mine.
I hold the baby close to my chest. After some time, I think to see if we have a son or a daughter… we have another boy. My baby smiles at me, then turns to search for my breast. He has his first feed in the water, naked against my skin. After the cord stops pulsing, Guy cuts it. I pass the baby to his father, and stand to push out the placenta which comes away easily.
Finally I step out of the pool, and with help walk to my bed. I snuggle down with my new baby feeding lustily at my breast. Someone brings me a hot drink, and something to eat. It has been a wonderful and gentle birth, lasting about five hours. I feel complete, radiant and satisfied.
At about 3:30am, Annie and Kristy-Rae leave. Guy, Ash and I are in bed together, getting to know one another. The only thing missing is Taran, who was meant to be at Ash’s birth. As soon as we wake in the morning, Guy leaves to get Taran and bring him home to meet his new brother.
Does this count as 'my creative space'?? My lovely friend is due to have her baby at any moment. She had her Blessingway the other day, and I did a henna tattoo on her belly. I saw her briefly today, and it has stained beautifully. Her three year old daughter added some of her own special touches... checking first that it 'wouldn't hurt baby'.
Wahooo! I finally have a 'forks' screen that worked! I got a finer mesh screen, and that seems to have made a difference. I am so happy!! As soon as the kids are in bed, I am printing! Lots of these are going to be at Olive Grove on Thursday. Have a fella in your life who needs a tee...?
Today I'm sewing a bunch of skirts... I did mean to be printing men's tshirts, but that's not happening now. I couldn't get a clean exposure of my forks pattern. I think I need to get a screen with a finer mesh. This is the test print I did. Maybe I have overly perfectionist tendencies, but I really want a nice sharp, crisp and clean stencil. This is none of those things.
I also have a new desk! A street find, and a great one. To maximise storage and shelving space, I've put some old chairs at the back of the desk, and have used planks of wood I scavenged from the old Carlton United Brewery when it was being demolished. It's great having this desk, as it means that I can now use the old desk for printing and cutting.
It's funny how different children can be. You know- likes, dislikes. My boy likes... no. My boy loves figurines. Mix that with a love of making things, and you're set for quick and easy kids craft. We have a lovely natural/felt/Steiner type of shop near us - The Friendship Tree. (I sell some cards and badges there - like the wee plug??) Anyway, I was there this morning, and Ash discovered the small wooden faceless figurines they have there. He desperately wanted to take one home and make it a little outfit. Which we did. An outfit of sorts, anyway. Like I said, quick and dirty. He loves it though. And I love the sweet little face he drew, and how it's already being carted everywhere.
Does two items make a collection?! I think I am developing a new collection theme... There is something lovely in the overt kitschness of vintage Australiana. I found my first piece in an opshop in Myrtleford some months back, and recieved the second in the mail a couple of days ago via Yardage Girl. I left a comment on Nic's blog after she found the tea towel in an opshop. I'm a 1975 girl, so she sent it to me. How nice is that?!
Am feeling stupidly excited. It feels like that for as long as I have been on this crafty adventure, I have wanted to learn how to create pattern repeats. And now I think I am finally figuring it out!!! I cannot express strongly enough how rapt I am that I am getting my head around the software (ever so slowly) and am actually making repeats. This idea has a bit more development to go, but it's happening. It didn't really work in the half drop repeat, I like it better as a block repeat. I might put them onto a screen to see how they go on fabric. *bounce bounce*
Our entrance hall isn't 'pretty'. It tends to be a bit of a dunping ground. Shoes, bags, art works the kids proudly bring home and leave there, books... all sorts of things. In an attempt to make some sense of the chaos, I've used an old step ladder to house shoes. That's about as far as the organisation goes!
The orange and yellow fabric you can see is old curtains. In the late afternoon, I peg them up onto the front door to try and keep the front of the house a little cooler. Our house faces west, so it gets really hot. Last weekend we hung green shade cloth over the front of the house to create a buffer between the sun and us. Again, not pretty, but so far it's effective.
I'm getting in early today. I'm posting my creative space before it really happens, because I'm on the way there. So right now, my creative space is partially packed in tins and boxes for relocation for the day to Olive Grove. I planning on making a bunch of pouches today. Christmas is getting scarily closer, and I need to get some gifty things happening.
A couple of years ago, I found a 50's cook book at my local oppie. It's a classic. Styling in a way that could have only happened then, and full of cutting edge recipes with instructions on where to source exotics such as soy sauce. When I found it, I initially thought I would make envelopes from it. Which I did. But now, the more I look through it, I am am increasingly loathe to cut it up. I kinda wish it was still in one piece. I mean, where else are you going to find recipes and accompanying styling that will horrify your children into behaving?! The evil bunny knows where you live.
This weeks theme for 'my place and yours' comes from my bricole ... 'your secret weapon' she asks... I thought about it, and all I could really come up with is this. My iron. Gods I love it. To the amusement of some. But I would be lost without it. I find it near to impossible to sew without it. Everything looks so much better if you press as you go. Not so long ago, I bought a special iron shoe for said secret weapon. I'm loving not having to use a pressing cloth, not scorching fabric etc... Yep. This baby is my secret weapon.
This morning I've been a printing machine. I've printed what feels like a gazillion of these caravans onto men's tees. I've already taken them over to Olive Grove. It feels good to have had a productive morning! Now if I can keep that moving through the afternoon...
On the most part, I love my creative space of a Thursday. I'm working in the shop, and can potter about doing my thing without being interupted for water/biscuit/lunch/a 'cutted-up' apple please! I love it best when other Olive Grovers are working in the shop for the day too. Today Mim popped in during the morning, giving me a chance to coat a screen, and Andrea was there today during the afternoon. We lined up our machines on the desk and did some sewing together, and also got some card making done. It's nice doing crafty things with other people.
More creative spaces over this-a-way... thanks Kirsty for hosting!
When I was pregnant with Ash, I was excited, if a little fearful of how and where I would birth. I desperately wanted another chance at birthing naturally. Home birth seemed out of the question, as it is so expensive. I had been told that I wouldn’t be able to go back to a birthing centre, as I had had a long and difficult birth that had resulted in a cesarean. Even so, I went along to the Mercy Family Birthing Centre to make sure that this option was in fact closed. It was. I left there thinking, “What now?” I was devastated, and in gut wrenching tears. The thought of birthing in a labour ward both saddened and scared me; I feared that doing so would result in another cesarean.
Things are in full swing. Party mode! My four year old will be four no more... tomorrow he is five! The old apron's out, and we're cooking, baking, preparing. All the stuff that parties are made of! Tonight brings the birthday cake challenge. I cannot believe what I have undertaken... on so many levels.
We don't 'do' guns, but my boys still have that inate (??) fascination with them... they turn lego into guns, sticks become guns- we don't buy them. But Ash has an incredible fascination with Indiana Jones. There is a scene he loved from the third film where there is a tank battle, and so of course now he is enamoured with tanks. So I'm making a 'tank cake' this year. Eep. It's funny how things change with the second child. There is no way I would have even entertained this idea with Taran! But, even with tanks and little boy gun fascination, my little dude is still a softie. He will happily cart around a tank, a fluffy cat softie and crystal all at once. I love how he works!
