The baby that got away

Today, on May 10th, I would of been around 14 weeks pregnant. And as the BabyCentre calendar was suggesting - would be a good day to announce my pregnancy.

As I write this it is the 15th of March and today I have miscarried.

I was so shocked to find out I was pregnant. It was certainly not planned. I didn't feel ready to be pregnant again, even if I felt we could have and handle another baby ok, the thought of being pregnant just freaked me out to my core. How could my body even be ready for this again so soon? How can I be pregnant and be at work again for another go? How is this fair when my other friends are trying so hard to conceive and I just get knocked up randomly?
And we have plans you know? We are getting married next April, no wedding dress shopping now eh? Let alone a budget for this gig. How are we going to afford the maternity leave now?

I was so shocked to find out I was pregnant and borderline crazed over plan making. And now I'm so hurt and disorientated to find out the baby is gone.

Another kick in the guts, one which I can't quite understand why it hurts so much when surely it should of prepared me, was that I knew it wouldn't last. Easy to say now right? But I mentioned my rather pessimistic views on it a few times to Simon, who I had begged not to tell a soul about the pregnancy even though he promptly told his mother (and will now have to tell her sometime soon that the baby is gone). "I don't think this baby is going to stick" I texted him once while I was at work. I had no signs that it wouldn't it was just something I felt. When I thought forward to November 8th, the possible due date of my unborn baby, I could not imagine holding another on in my arms like I could with all the others. Although I had nausea and I was exhausted, I also kept forgetting about being pregnant and when I somehow reminded myself of the fact, the shock would send me reeling again.

Two hours before the bleeding started I had a complete meltdown at Simon. Freaking out about not being able to handle doing it all over again, going another round of being the breadwinner, a mum, no sleep and now also sharing my body again.

And then it happened, a simple trip to the loo turned to absolute horror and here I am, sitting here at my desk which still has a positive pregnancy test sitting innocently on it ...and I'm devastated. And I don't feel like I should be, like I don't deserve to be since maybe my negative thoughts brought this all down on me. Like somehow I'm paying for it.

Even though there is a rational side of my brain whispering 'these things happen, its not your fault, it wasn't meant to be, your not guilty, its probably for the best', just as I had whispered to friends in this very position (yet never ever will again) there is another side of my brain yelling 'suck it up bitch, your totally did this'.

I hope by the time this auto-posts (If its not deleted before then) that I have come to terms with it more, and maybe let some of the guilt go. I wonder if the terror would of subsided and I will be feeling more matter of fact about it all.

I hope I get over it. But something tells me a little part of me wont.

Evie Claire, 6 weeks old

She doesn't seem to like to sleep alone during the day. Simon or I either usually end up having her on us somehow, which is fine when the sling doesn't have puke all over it and sometimes I end up sitting at a computer trying to hold her with one arm holding her, a leg propped up on the washing basket to support and typing one handedly. Sometimes if ZJ is asleep as well, Evie and I will pile onto of Simon and watch TV.

Oddly, she is fine sleeping by herself at night in her cot. Even more oddly, she seems to sleep better in her cot or at least get back to sleep better (say after I feed her) if Simon is snoring. Go figure.

The Bottlefeeder in Room 1

So my stay in hospital was an interesting one. I really thought this time I would be more prepared, more mentally able to cope with any questions, looks, having to give reasons 1 millon times to the 1 million different staff. But in all honesty, I really wasn't... Not in the slightest. Infact in some ways I think I was less able to cope. Like the past 19 months of judgement have worn me down to next to no coping reserves.

After the utter crap that was the recovery room, I didn't hope for much getting to the wards. My midwife had told me a few weeks prior to the birth that Auckland National Woman's was a 'baby friendly' place and therefore no longer supported formula feeding, so in preparation, we had brought everything of our own including sterilizing tablets and a container to put them in. But of course we still needed water and boiled water to make up the bottles so Simon went off as soon as we got wheeled into place to organize things and figure out where to get this boiled water from. We had NOT brought our own kettle from home becuase we assumed there would be a way of acquiring boiled water at a hospital. After a short time he was back with us saying 'this place is weird!'. He explained that he wasn't hopeful for help either after what had just happened, but the first nurse he came across and had explained what he wanted to had actually pointed him not only in the direction of the 'Formula Feeding Room' (a locked room where the ONLY kettle in the ward is and bottle feeding supplies are) but also said 'oh and you will need sterlization tablets etc..' and made a move to get them for him. When Simon explained we had everything and what we had been told the nurse apparently had looked a bit shocked and said 'jeez we are not that bad now are we!?'.

Yeah guys, you are.

The first night I was there was kind of horrid. After a CS you are not really able to move for a few hours but of course being a 'baby friendly' hospital, baby is also roomed in with you. Which is fabulous except if your baby starts crying you cannot do anything except ring for the nurses and midwives and hope someone turns up shortly to help. The first midwife I called gave me this long stare as i told her baby was hungry and i needed a bottle made up. Eventually she sorted out the supplies but instead of using our formula went and got some of the pre mixed stuff and used that. It requires no boiling water of course (which is down the other end of the ward behind that locked door) and just needs heating up. But she wasn't friendly about it at all and immediately I started feeling bad.

I sat and berated myself for being so selfish. And then I sat berating myself for berating myself over it.
The midwife who was actually meant to be looking after me came in with her helper not long after to sort me out and make sure i was recovering all ok. Round two of the 'I'm bottle feeding conversations' ensued when I asked if they could fill my flask up with boiled water so I could make bottles myself. The midwife went off somewhere and the helper asked me if i wanted to use the pre mixed stuff as it was easier and I was shocked. 'But you dont support formula feeding here' to which the helper said 'well some of us don't but we dont say anything about it.' before walking out. The midwife returned shortly after and actually asked me what my reasons for bottlefeeding were so that she could 'tell the others to shut them up'.

What? They are talking about me? Are they sitting their reffering to me as the 'Bottlefeeder in Room 1'?
I explained to her all the while thinking 'I shouldn't HAVE to do this!'. I was angry, and I was ashamed.

All those feelings from earlier came rushing back and I began to cry - which, I think, made the midwife feel guilty and so off she went to 'shut the others up' I presume.

I had wanted to ask for milk suppressants that night, because I figured they wouldn't offer them to me (and I was right) but I actually was too scared. I was too scared to ask for medication to make myself more comfortable. Isn't that stupid? When I did finally get the courage up to ask for them by the way, I was told it was too late and I should of asked the day baby was born. I would have to deal with the consequences.

The next day was abysmal also. I was feeling pretty low already though and I got sick of explaining myself every two seconds which made those low feelings even worse. I got comments and I got the looks.
 I really started feeling like a second rate citizen. Like I didn't deserve being cared for.

I realise now that I'm obviously still hung up with guilt about formula because from that moment on I really started punishing myself. I stopped using the pain meds as much sub consciously and I didn't ring the bell for the nurses/midwives unless I was totally desperate for help. I would do more than I should of moving wise because I didn't want to explain again and again or have them sigh as they went off to find boiled water. I didnt wan't the bell to be rung and then look up at the screen and think 'oh its that bottlefeeder in room 1 again'.

Idiotic. I know.

By the time I had some nice supportive carers I had given up completely on the feel good about myself feelings and I was really worried about what all the hospital staff were thinking of me. I was totally paranoid.
One night a lovely tiny Indian looking midwife started working my end of the ward. She came in and saw me being a bit distressed (pain, Evie not sleeping etc) and asked if she could take Evie from me down to the nurses station for a few hours so I 'could get some rest' and since I was 'bottlefeeding and it was a quiet night it was no problem to do at all'. I was so paranoid that I actually refused. My immediate reaction was 'then they could prove I'm a lazy bottle feeder by handing my child off!'. No way, all the breastfeeders no doubt have their babies with them, I will do so to.

Eventually I ended up breaking down in front of this midwife and she was the nicest person I have ever come across in a hospital. She was angry and demanded to know who had asked me my reasons, as it really was irrelevant to anyone and non of their business. She wanted to know who had said bad stuff to me but I shut down and didn't answer.  I had to deal with these people again, I wasnt naming names. I told her in between heavy sobs how I felt I was a bad mother because I was so selfish. She listed reason after reason explaining how I wasn't.

Each night she would come in and ask to take Evie and on the third or forth offering I took her up on it. She made sure I was medicated enough and after a while she was the only one I really trusted on the ward.

I really wish I had said goodbye to her and wish I told her how much she did for me before I left. She made all the difference to surviving my stay mentally (event hough she must think I'm a crackpot for the amount of times I broke down in front of her!).

The other thing that got me about hospital was the lack of knowledge on formula feeding by the nurses and midwives. Some thought it was ok to use the Zip water for making up feeds (which I didn't). One asked if i wanted to make up a whole lot of bottle in advance and keep it in the little coffee kitchenette at the end of the hall so it was accessible (which I didn't think was a good thing to do).  Most thought it was fine to keep a small supply of boiled water in a flask in my room with the bottles but another one, when asked to let me in the locked room so I could fill my flask up, kind of told me off for doing it that way and told me that I should always always boil the kettle and let it cool for 10 minutes before making any bottle up.

I think thats what makes me angry the most about my stay - the lack of knowledge. If i wanted help breastfeeding I would of had 10 trained professionals bear down on me within seconds. If i needed help and advice for safe prepation of bottles - no one knew. That is ridiculous... and unsafe!

I kind of want to write a letter but I think it will fall on deaf ears. The whole problem with this 'baby friendly' pro breastfeeding stuff is that I think its a good thing deep down. I want it to be the social norm to breastfeed your child but I also want to have proper advice and measures in place for people that can't or don't.
Why is so difficult to have a happy and safe medium?

I don't know if we are done having kids yet. I don't know if can keep having children as I have a butload of scar tissue apparently and I'm not sure what that means for future c sections. But one of the biggest reason I may not have any more is the fact that hospital scares me now. I let it all get to me and I let them make me feel bad about myself. I let myself believe I'm a bad mother and its not a good way to start off a new child with.

Éclair - one week old today

First few days

I have alot to blog about. The operation, the recovery room, being the bottle feeding woman in a 'baby friendly' (read: 'if you use formula we wont support you in the slightest with it hospital'), the fact im going to be launching some birth announcement and invitation templates to sell on Etsy very shortly (like I don't have enough to do, I go and make more work for myself) and what its like with two kids home under two in the first few days.

But... well.. I have two children under two, who surprisingly are both asleep right now but i doubt that is going to last long :P

So, instead I will share two pictures with you :)

Introducing Evie

Just a quick post to say...

Evie Claire Peterson




Born Thursday 12th at 10:50AM via CS. 3.2kg.
Everyone safe, well and happy ...and gladly home now!!

More pics to come, when we have settled.

The waiting game

I'm waiting.

This is me around 38 weeks with ZJ.


I have no desire to take any pictures of me basically naked with this pregnancy. Its cold, I can't be bothered seeing myself in the mirror, let alone the computer screen.

I don't look a whole lot different - maybe a bit smaller though actually. 

I walk around in my boyfriend's jerseys and tee shirts that can't fit all the way over my belly. I live in a pink boob tube that Anita gave me when i was pregnant with ZJ - it makes for perfect wearing under those tees that just don't fit no more.

I thought it would be better this time. Knowing that I actually HAVE A SOLID DATE and all.. But really, the last few weeks are still a horrible wait!

I'm ready for this baby to be born. Even though I'm terrified of labouring again with the whole uterus rupture fun, I probably wouldn't be too upset too much if the baby decided to become before the planned date and I had to rush in for an emergency C section. I'm tired and sore. Probably not as tired and sore as I'm going to be in 3 weeks but the grass is always greener eh?

The "Baby Space".

My due date community on LJ are posting pics of their nurseries and 'baby spaces'. Compared to the others this is so freaking bland and boring...but I'm loving our bedroom and 'baby space' in the afternoon light and I was busy processing photos anyway...so hey, pictures! ;)



The cot is a hand me down teethed on distressed beauty from my brother (as ZJ is still in his one) and the duvet and cot border is a Peter Rabbit hand me down from my partner's sister in law.

While Evie is little we will probably use the bottom half of the cot as a changing station. We did have a change table (aother hand me down from Simon's sister in law) but to be honest we usually always changed ZJ on the bed or on the floor of the lounge.. so it was pointless. What you can't see in the pics is the Safe-T-Sleep under the duvet and the hundreds of swaddle blankets and nappies at the bottom of the cot :)



Sheldon and Jermaine - Evie's cot protectors ;)


And thats it ya'll! Seriously... Mondo Budget.

Oh and here are the pics on the wall (click for a bigger view) - These were taken by me of my partner and I each holding our son when he was 8 days old. I LOVE these two pictures.

16 months

Its hard to believe that my little man is 16 months old.



I have a walking, giggling, guilt tripping, adorable and hilarious child, and sometimes I sit back and wonder how this all came about.

Little explorers are hard on a mama's heart.

My little man is fast turning into a real little man. Its absolutely terrifying and heart warming all at once.







Happy mother's day to all the mama's out there :)

Day 3 - Pregnancy records

Its been a pretty emotional day.

We had a specialist scan today at the hospital. We went in knowing absolutely ziltch about what the ‘irregularity’ was that we were in there to sort out. No one had told us anything, so although we were feeling positive about the whole thing, it was starting to wear on us a bit.

The appointment started off with being ushered into this tiny ‘interview’ room, which really should have had the label ‘Bad News Room’ stuck firmly on the door because it just reeks of doom and gloom. You can tell its not a place you want to be. I immediately got teary, I was starting to stress out about this whole thing.
The doctor came in to see us and ask a few questions and explained what they were going to look at. Turns out that the last scan picked up a rather ‘prominent gallbladder’ (which they kind of mentioned then because they looked at it for ages) and also something wrong with the skull formation (which they hadn’t mentioned!)

We then went into the ultrasound room and got going, the doctor double checked all the measurements of the baby, had a good look at the skull which turned out to be fine and then started looking at this ‘gallbladder’ thing.

They are now fairly sure it isn’t a gallbladder they are looking at, but a sort of cyst. They think. They are going to be getting a few other people to look at the pictures and see what they think. It could be something they need to operate on to remove once the baby is born, however they just don’t know. Hopefully we will know more in the next week or two.

Oh and for the record… the baby is still Mystery Meat. The dr had a good look and ‘couldn’t see any boy parts’ but couldn’t see any girl parts because the cord was in the way.

Fail day

Yesterday was just a bunch of fail.

We had the 20 weeks ultrasound in the morning and man was this baby not cooperating. Again. I don't know if i have moaned about it here but every time I go to the midwife or doctor or whatever this kid is playing games. I don't know how he/she does it but no matter what they cannot pick up a heartbeat.

The first time it happened I was 12 weeks pregnant and so borderline on hearing the heartbeat with the doppler anyway, but internally my brain was saying 'she should be picking it up, they picked it up in seconds at 10 weeks with ZJ!@#!' and freaking out. The day after that I was having my NT scan so after 10 minutes of trying to get this heartbeat picked up, my midwife said she would catch up with me after the scan and gave me the 'hopefully everything was still alright with the baby'... blah blah blah talk, and how they 'hope there is still a viable fetus but to be prepared for there not being one' blah blah blah.
It was a horrid 24 hour wait for that ultrasound and I tell you, when the sonographer put the do-dacky on my belly and straight away we saw that little flickering heart I almost fainted with relief.

I also realised something I had been feeling in my bones anyway, (and i fully believe 'mother bones' feelings exist :P) that this one was stubborn [like her/his mama] and also ....a bit playful.
This one was going to be trouble?

I blame ZJ, he lulled us into a false sense of security with his zero issues, his love of routines, great health and the fact he was sleeping through the night at 3 months. This one? She/he is going to undo all of that, I can feel it.

The next appointment I had with the midwife the same thing basically happened, but becuase i was at the huge clinic she called in a sonographer with a mobile unit to take a check and put my mind at ease. By this stage i had started feeling the baby (although no medical professionals would believe me :P) and i *knew* in my heart that everything was ok, but even when the sonographer picked up the baby straight away and saw that little heart beating, figured out its exact location, the doppler STILL wouldnt pick up the heart beat.

At that point I gave up at ever hearing it and I think from now on i will say no if they ask if i want to hear it with the doppler :P

Yesterdays scan followed the same pattern. Baby was first laying in the worst position possible for getting all the data they wanted. I was made to go to the loo (a bladder of pee i had saved up just for the midwife tests <3) and that made things a little easier but baby kept hiding under my belly button. After 45 minutes of hard pushing on my belly (which was painful and i feel bruised today!) the guy gave up and went and got another lady to help, she was much gentler thankfully but she was having just as much trouble and when they came to look at the sex, baby had clamed her/his legs together so tightly it was impossible to tell. Oh and then her/him decided to STAY PUT like that.
The sonographer was hesitant to tell us what she thought the sex was, becuase she couldnt get a good look, but after i said 'well his family only has boys if that makes it easier' she said 'oh i was going to say girl, i saw no dangly bits'.

So we are no closer to knowing what the sex is and this rubs me up the wrong way like you wouldn't believe. Finding out this information was the only reason I wanted to have the scan. I hate surprises and it bugs me not knowing so bad.

With ZJ we knew he was a he and we could name him and when I lovingly patted my belly I referred to it as 'him' and we called him his name. 
I felt prepared! Now? Not so much.I know how i feel is ridiculous and either way, from all accounts, I'm having a healthy baby... but damn it bugs me! I sulked about it all day and to be honest I'm still sulking!

I guess we will just refer to the bump as Mystery Meat from now on,  or MM for short. Sigh.

Anyone else out there desperately wanted to find out the sex and couldn't?

My walking big boy

A couple of weeks ago ZJ just decided to start venturing out on his feet. It was really bizarre as even though hes been pulling himself up, cruising around the furniture and walking if he was holding onto our hands for months, hes been really reluctant to try walking. And to be honest, its not like we were encouraging him... He have our hands full as it is without a baby running around ;)

But one Sunday morning, while I was letting his daddy sleep in and watching Ace of Cakes (I <3 it so much and it is on at the crack of dawn on the weekends - perfect for me!) I was sitting on the floor watchig the box and I stood ZJ up my leg length away and let him go expecting him to giggle [like a maniac] like usual and sit down... but he didn't. He took 3 big steps towards me and fell into my arms.

I had a 'WTF!?' moment but quickly recovered and praised him and tried it again, this time he took 4 steps! At this point i went squeeing into our bedroom to wake Simon up and tell him.

(You guys have no idea how rapt I was that I was the one who got to witness his first steps. Being the working parent and yet the mummy I feel so conflicted about the whole thing and I'm terrified of missing out on these moments.)

The last couple of weeks have been filled with everyone in the house sitting around on the lounge floor playing catch the baby as ZJ toddles between the 4 of us.

This morning, he stood up next to me on the couch and just walked across the room.

Awwe, my little man is growing up.

Dear lord, I have a one year old

Hey bloggerverse! Its hard to imagine that I have a one year old kicking around. It doesn't really seem like that long ago I was laying in a hospital bed, utterly covered in tubes and devices recovering from a traumatic labour and c section. It doesnt feel like a year ago that I was wheeled down to NICU to hold my baby for the very first time.

I remember feeling utter awe and just how wonderful he was.

I remember when I was finally allowed to get out of that hell hole which was hospital and go home with my boys. It was such a lovely couple of weeks and when someone described it as a 'babymoon', I couldn't agree more. I was smitten, my partner was smitten and god we were just so happy. Everything fell into place and my baby thrived.

A now here he is...a year old! Its a such a joy to see him change and grow each day and turn into a little person.

♥

For those who never got to read my baby's birth story which I wrote back in February 2009, here it is....

Spring, sunshine and grass

Our lawn was bad. it was real bad. It was about knee high in grass. Sorry about that Mr Landlord but its been a rainy winter and there is a baby to look after and I work full time and its ....and well, I'm too lazy.

However, it did make a gorgeous photo op, so here is a pic or two of our wee boy enjoying the first days of spring :)

 

  

 

The Noob Parent Technique (NPT)

Hi, my name is Kate. I'm currently around 27 (i can't be sure though, i failed math in two countries) and I live in Auckland, New Zealand. I am a working mum (woohoo fun parent!) to a beautiful boy around 7 months old and my partner is a STAHD - and he loves it.

This is a blog all about us and little things that take my fancy (or cause me to rant). Its also dedicated to what we like to call our Noob Parenting Technique (NPT) way of life... in which we try not to sweat the small stuff or follow any set way of parenting and yet try not to screw up our child either.

NPT? WTF?

Let me explain.

Before I got pregnant, in fact - before I even had Zander, I had no idea about parenting styles. I actually didn't realise there could even be that many styles. Seriously. I had no idea what 'attachment parenting' meant or what the opposite of that is even called, what 'EC' stood for (and now I do, it still doesn't make sense to me), or what the 'cry it out method' was and why that wasn't flavour of the month with so many people yet our dear Plunket endorsed. I had no idea about co-sleeping or 'bed sharing' (and I actually didn't know these were two different things until about a week ago).

Forums posters would talk about their 'DS' or 'DD', how they were BF or [god forbid] FF, there was talk of BFOD, and EBM and now that the babes in our group are a bit older there is talk about 'BLW' their children. All I could do was sit there and go 'WTF?'.

I've since been educated on most of these things but I still feel like a Noob. But you know what? Ignorance was bliss.... I enjoy being a noob! I like the fact we don't have one set technique and feel happy to chop and change between a few. I don't pretend to be an expert on any way - I just know what works for us [right now] and honestly, we have a happy healthy gorgeous wee boy who is just a pleasure to take care of so i guess we must be doing something right.

So thats it, I hope you stick around.