Three Ring Circus

Before Noah had his tongue tie snipped, he said very little. He had a few words but not alot was comprehendable. Afterwards he was trying out every sound possible. It was great. Until he pottered up to us one day…

He patted the lounge…"sh*t" he said

My eyes boggled and my jaw dropped. I looked to David, whose reflection mirrored mine.

"What did you say"? I asked him.

He repeated his action and the statement… "Sh*t". "Sheit".

He couldn’t be… David stuttered.

No, he doesn’t know the meaning, where would he have heard that word? It has to be something else.

Noah was getting frustrated. " Sh*t, Sheit, Sheit, Sh*t"! he exclaimed over and over.

Then it dawned on me.

Sit!

He’s trying to say sit!

Phew!

That was okay.

"Sit, sure, buddy you can sit", I said and pulled him up to the lounge.

He practiced hard to say sit but had not quite mastered it by the time we found ourselves in the doctor’s rooms with gastro.

"Sh*t", he muttered after the doctor had finished examining him, pointing to the chair at the desk. (Not now, Noah, not now).

"What did he say"? the good doctor asked, alarmed.

"SIT", I cried, "he said S.I.T."

"Sure he did" the doctor chuckled.

"Sh*t" said Noah as I sank lower into my own seat.

"That’s what you’ve got"! retorted the doctor and laughed, as my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

 

It’s a good thing that doctor has left town now because when Noah tried to say bucket today, it didn’t come out quite the way it was supposed to…

Who knew you could mistake the ‘b’ sound with an ‘f’ ?!?!?!?

Ivy slept through the night.

 Oh. Yes. She. Did.

Okay, she woke a couple of times and they said there was one episode of apnoea… maybe. They were very non commital about it all.

But for all intensive purposes, she had a great night’s sleep and a great night’s sleep means no tonsilectomy. No tonsilectomy means another year of terrible chronic illness. The truth is, I’m not sure I can cope. There I said it. No super Mum living under this roof.

ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!

The nurse came in at 6am and little miss ‘I never sleep through the night’ was still asleep! She asked me if this was a usual night for Ivy. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Ummm, no, if this was a normal night, I would not be here having a sleep study, I would be at home with the other children. I would not have put my baby through electrodes  being plastered on her scalp and all over her face. I would not have held her down while she screamed blue murder as the oximeter was applied to her toe or the nasal prongs under her nose.

To say I felt like a fool is an understatement. To say I was made to be a liar by my precious daughter, a bigger one.

So we scrub the plaster from her curls and pack ourselves up, hoping to scurry away with tails between legs but we are stopped by the nurse. Don’t worry she says, alot of patients sleep through the first time, it just means she’ll have to repeat the test.

I don’t think so.

We won’t have official results for eight weeks. EIGHT WEEKS! Lucky this isn’t life or death.

I inwardly laugh. Nothing happens quickly around here. Not. A. Thing.

As instructed, we phone the ENT doctor to give him initial results and to talk to him about whether we will go ahead with the adnoidectomy without the tonsilectomy.

I have already discussed this at length with the paediatrician, the afternoon before the study and have decided that it is better the devil you know than the one you don’t and Ivy and I will fumble through another horrible year of illness, wait it out until she is three, an age that is deemed acceptable to perform T & A’s with little risk of bleeding, rather than put the Ivygirl through two general anaesthetics in six months.

Just to add to my merriment David calls to tell me that the ENT doctor has closed his rooms until December.

Why would I expect anything more? (Insert crazy laugh of choice here).

At least the paed appointment was more productive.

So as not to bore you I will put it in point form.

• Ivy’s last lot of bloods came back ok, except for her t cells. Which were low.
• He explained this might indicate immune deficiency (yep, knew that already) but that her
• Ig’s were all normal, so maybe not. He said;
• Ivy was a complicated case,
• he didn’t know what else to do for her at this stage and could we try
• long term low dose antibiotics for a while. (hmmm, I thought we had been on long term antibiotics for oh, say, TWO YEARS already)!
• Anyway, I said I would give it a go because
• Ivy’s bowels and gut are now playing up with the high dose aggressive antibugs
• Ivy has lost close to 700g (by hospital scales) in three weeks (600g by paeds scales).
• She will only eat bland foods and that isn’t helping her to get better, it’s not even helping her bowels.
• She is lethargic and miserable for alot of the time.

The paed’s reasoning is if we can keep infection at bay and not hope for a cure, (because he has seen the light and knows that is not likely to happen) for an extended amount of time, it might give her a chance to pick up her game, start to feel better and therefore give her an increase in appetite and allow her to put on the weight she has lost.

I’m all for wellness at this stage.

• Ivy has had blood tests again (results pending)
• and stool samples have been sent too (pending)
• Low dose Erythromycin started yesterday

This afternoon, she is playing outside, in the grass with Noah and Maddy. It’s nice to hear her laughing for what seems like the first time in ages. She looks… small and tired but play and laughter has gotta be good. In anyone’s books.

As for me, I was as open and honest as I could be. I told him I didn’t know if I could do it for another year, watch Ivy struggle and be helpless in, well, helping her. Nurses and control freaks don’t like not being in control at all and I am both of those. He suggested we limp through 2008 together. Hmmm, I don’t know if I will hold my breath.

I’m thinking an increase in the crazy pills are in order.

I asked him about doctors being friends with clients and all the rest of that stuff that has been bubbling through my mind and blog of late but, as this post is so long, I might have to leave all that for another day.

Oh, pictures of Ivy during sleep study to follow just as soon as I work out how to download from my phone. My husband has seemed mysteriously absent for a large part of this month but I will hit him up for some much needed IT help soon.

* Edited to add, photos now up - thanks Dave, sorry for the poor phone camera quality.

 

Leading up to the birth of Ivy and Noah (part two). Part one here

Wednesday came and I had the infusion. I did feel alot better, in truth but the pain I was complaining about, constantly, had not decreased.

I started to niggle on and off after the infusion but it settled. My fear did not and the gentle pushing from the midwives to have a tour of the NICU was very distressing. The tears fell often. I was classed as antenatally depressed (and I was, I knew it).

I needed to keep it together though so that I could have weekend leave to see the girls’ dance concert on the Sunday. That was my goal.

The Saturday was supposed to be my first ever baby shower. Nothing like doing things backwards.

I had a little mantra that I would chant everyday…just hold on until after the dance concert, just hold on…

After an agressive altercation with a boy and a bus door on Sunday our vacuum cleaner has been on the blink.

David has been fixing it as best he can. (He can feel my panic in not being able to clean for the twins’ party).

Every morning Noah has come in and pointed to the poor plastic heap in the corner of our room.

"Carleener" he states, "Broken".

To which I reply in the affirmative; yes, it is broken.

The boy who is deathly afraid of said ‘Carleener’ (cleaner) would then proceed to give the machine a kiss on the top of it’s body and proclaim it "all better".

For three days this has gone on.

This morning, we limped the vacuum out to de - crunch the floor. As it whirred into action Noah sprang into my arms, shaking and crying. He cuddled in close and, totally believing in the power of the kiss, whispered to me, his eyes as big as saucers,

"I fix it".

Just when I thought it was never going happen.

The Sleep unit called us and Ivy is having  her sleep study tonight!

We came to the top of the cancellation list!

We are going straight after we see our wayward paed.

After two nights of waking up every hour on the hour if she sleeps through tonight, I am going to scream!

Wish us luck.

In preparation for their birthday party, Ivy discovered party bag bling for the girls and took a liking to it. ALL of it

View more Wordless Wednesday here.

Even as their birthday approaches, my head is filled with William. The wonders and the what ifs and the guilt for wanting him here and things to be different. I look at them and my whole self swells with love and pride that they are mine. Would they even be here if William had lived? I’m not sure. Very hard to admit and my heart is heavy for thinking it. I love them but with conditions.

I have re - read their birth story, ready to put on the blog in celebration of these little beings but now I’m not sure. Is it really their tale or just more of William? I don’t think I have debriefed, dealt and celebrated their birth. It all happened so quickly.

Somedays, my body, mind and soul still feels as though it is reeling from the devastation of losing a baby, let alone the whirlwind pregnancy and birth, the whole NICU experience of Ivy and Noah. The thought of it makes me feel shaky and anxious. I wonder if this is a natural response to emotions that lie in the pit of you, festering, unresolved. I can only conclude yes. I have not done this before; grieved a dead baby at term. Miscarriage, yes, even late miscarriage, the baby perfectly formed but not this. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would have had to bury my son.

Lately I have gone in search and found blogs on premature birth, confronting it almost, daring it to come to the surface so that I feel something, anything about their nine weeks in the NICU, instead of feeling numb or worse still having a panic attack - the two extremes of the stick. Instead I stumbled across Sweet/Salty and Crib Chronicles. Two women who are confronting their grief head on in beautiful, heartfelt, heartbreaking words. Words, that could have spilled from my own thoughts.

Last night I cried for a very long time. I cried for the first time in ages, for William, for Ivy and Noah, for the other children and all that they have lost, for the women who I have met, who have gone through the same devastation, for my mum, who has had to do this twice over, in a time when grieving was swept underneath that proverbial carpet and I cried because I am so barren when it comes to writing my feelings down somedays and I know, just know that journalling through this blog is some kind of therapy and that the words  I write and the words that I read will one day set me free.

In the spirit of the upcoming season…

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

two smiling toddlers

a crazy pill and hot cup of tea

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the forth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

four books that were NOT Hairy Maclary…

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me

Five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

seven healthy children,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to  me,

eight previously unwatched eps of House,

seven healthy children,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

$900 to pay the paediatrician’s fee

eight previously unwatched eps of House,

seven healthy children,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

ten minutes for an uninterrupted shower

$900 to pay the paediatrician’s fee

eight previously unwatched eps of House,

seven healthy children,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me,

eleven finished loads of washing,

ten minutes for an uninterrupted shower

$900 to pay the paediatrician’s fee

eight previously unwatched eps of House,

seven healthy children,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me,

twelve unsolicited back rubs,

eleven finished loads of washing,

ten minutes for an uninterrupted shower

$900 to pay the paediatrician’s fee

eight previously unwatched eps of House,

seven healthy children,

six poo - free nappies,

five Hi - 5 DVDs!

four books, NOT hairy maclary,

three days of silence,

two smiling toddlers,

a crazy pill and a hot cup of tea.

Ta Da!

Oh what a weekend we have had, my friends!

On Saturday evening we took part in a fundraiser for Belmont Birthing Service. This is the second year the kids have sung in the choir. It was lovely sitting on the grassed area as the sun slowly set, listening to the beautiful voices of the children reach into the evening sky.

We packed a picnic dinner and talked with friends. So nice and relaxing. So different from our day to day. Time with the family all together, yet as one.

Arrival home was well into the night and so this morning when the children woke with the sun, their eyes were bleary and their faces drawn with exhaustion. Maddy has been battling a cold which had turned into tonsilitis and was feeling a bit worse for wear.

There was no time to rest though because Sunday brought with it the dance concert and there was make up and hair to be done. Costumes to be repaired and last minute rush arounds to make sure all clothing and shoes were packed.

The concert was lovely, the girls wonderful. Our seats were disappointing but you win some, you lose some. The boys behaved well, the babies danced, some slept (not mentioning any names…David, Pop) some wept.

So now we are done for the year. Finally, a time of rest. There are just a few more weeks of school before Christmas.

We travelled home, the light fading fast, tired but happy. My little entertainers having danced their way into our hearts. Memories to hold, photos to cherish, a fleeting moment in their lives.

Thank you my sweet girls. You have given me so much.

Why do babies wait until you’ve put a fresh, clean nappy on them before they do the foulest, sloppiest poo known to man?

My babies have worked out how to hold it in. I know this because I have tried waiting it out for their morning defication. I’ve tried waiting until the nappy is almost falling off them with the weight of the urine. I give up. I change them and then, within seconds, the grunting begins!

Why do husbands suddenly have to go to work/clean the swimming pool/ disappear when pooey nappies need to be changed?

My husband has a gift. A true gift for making himself scarce. I think he needs to rethink his vocation from computer nerd to magician. (He’ll want to disappear - or turn into something cute, when I get a hold of him)!

I see this alot on some of the blogs I frequent;

Ass Hat.

What is an ass hat?

Can some one tell me?

Is it a bonnet worn by a donkey? Is it some sort of outer wear that you place over your backside? Literally a beanie for you bum?

Can someone please explain.

Ivy had a hearing test today and passed. That’s the good news.

When the audiologist checked her ears out she found:

Grommet out on the right side and rip roaring otitis media. (Her ear drum perforated on the way home).

Grommet in on the left side but discharging again.

Poor baby.

The paed is missing, presumed dead.

* Sorry, rant ahead*.

 

It’s November people, November!

Warm weather, hot actually. So why is Ivy still sick? Why, a mere 36 hours after stopping the antibiotics, is her nose running green and her chest sounding like the old rattling carriage of my school train? Why is her temperature high? Why, Why, Why?

Can anyone tell me?

Can anyone explain to me why, when I asked for a word with the doctor yesterday, I got an appointment a week from now and an angry, short response from the ruler of the world (his receptionist)?

Can I tell you how weird and inconvenient that is?

It’s weird because the paed said he didn’t want to see her until Ivy’s birthday or just after because, until that magical day, he can’t prescribe her Singulair (an asthma medication) and it’s weird because in a weeks time, she will not be acutely unwell.

It’s inconvenient because I had actually made an appointment for Imogen and Madeline to see their paed in Sydney next Wednesday, the day I now have an appointment with Ivy and Noah’s paed, in Newcastle. That’s two hours to Sydney and two and a bit hours back to Newcastle in the space of five hours. I don’t think so.

When I explained this to our gate keeper, she said it was that day, that time or nothing. The paed had ‘created’ that appointment for Ivy as it was. *SIGH*

Luckily our Sydney paed was more flexible and our time was changed to the following Thursday.

Thank goodness for friends in high places who have Bactrim on offer!

All I want for Christmas?

Ivy to be well and no need for the paed !

Rant over.

Lily has gone on school camp for three days. It’s her first time to camp and her first time away from us for any length of time. It was bad enough when the big kids went away to Canberra but Lily is on her own. There are no twin sisters or cousins to keep an eye out for her.

I’m sure she will be fine.

On a little tangent, someone once told me that using the word fine was an all encompassing description for feeling insecure, neurotic and emotional without giving anything away. Hmmm…

Anyway, she will be ok. She is a strong, independent, free spirited young girl who is going to have the time of her life but I will miss her. Alot.

The gorgeous Childlife from In The Eyes Of A Child has bestowed upon me this award!

It is an award that was started by Chrissy at Chrissy’s This and That to honour wonderful women and was inspired by a post that her husband wrote about her.

I am truly honoured. Thank you.

If you haven’t had a read of Childlife’s blog, you should pop on over. She is a wonderful writer and her posts can make you laugh out loud, leave you in tears or have you thinking about things for days. One of my favourites! Also an amazing wonder woman!

There are lots of wonderful women out there, whose blogs I have come across. All of them wonder women in their own right. How do you choose?

The very first one who comes to mind is my friend Trish over at My Little Drummer Boys. She has overcome so much and she really is so amazing and generous and kind, in real life and online.

The next wonder woman is Mountainmama over at Careful What You Wish For. Again, another inspirational lady who takes life as it comes and appreciates all she has been given. She is a gifted writer as well.

Finally, Megan at Imagine If. I don’t know Megan very well at all but I love her blog and what her writing represents. I’m not sure what her life has seen but I do know that her want to make Child Protection one of our most important issues stirs alot of emotions in me.

What’s a girl to do?

When you are a shoe hound, like Ivy is and you are going on an excursion out into the front yard and you have just too many shoes to choose from.

You wear one sandal (to show off your toes) and one gumboot (to splash through all the puddles)!

Of course.

See more Wordless Wednesday here

Something a bit lighter for you after a couple of days of heavy stuff.

Noah is your normal rambunctious boy.

He likes to run and play with cars.

He likes to be outside. He rarely plays with stuffed toys, except for ‘Ted’.

He is two this month. (Both Noah and Ted).

Of all our children, he is the only one to be attached to a stuffed toy in such a way that Noah is with ‘Ted’.

Ted is taken to bed, he is stroked until his fur is gone. He has been dragged outside to play in the sand, had his ears sucked on and his clothes pulled off. Ted comes with us to the shops and is often found being pulled around by the boy in his wagon.

He is Noah’s best friend.

I bought Ted for his first birthday. He is designed by Kate Finn. Soft, brown terry towelling - like fur. Just the right size for a little boy. Dressed brightly in a red shirt and red, white and blue pinstriped pants.

He is the perfect companion. A boy and his bear.

I was reading an interesting post by Dr Rob the other day. He was speculating the possibility of doctors and patients being friends and, in that context, disclosing information when having a particularly bad day. He wondered why patient’s asked how he was and attempted to probe into his life outside of his practice. He noted that he felt uncomfortable being dishonest and telling his patients that his life was fine, if it was not but in giving any personal information about himself  asked if that was crossing the line of professionalism.

I haven’t been able to shake this post for several days and have been going through it in my head.

Now, I know I have had a go at our paed for speaking about his hectic week, when mine was falling apart at the seams. I am willing to concede that I was stressed at the time and clearly feeling selfish and sorry for myself. As is usually the case when you are trying to contact a doctor.

I’m sorry for that, I am, because when I thought about it, I would much rather know if the twins’ paed is feeling out of sorts, so I know where we stand. 

I responded to Dr Rob’s post. I said that I knew when our paed was not feeling great because of his body language, his concentration levels and his ability to elaborate on things without being prompted.

Having thought about it, obsessively, for the last 48 hours, I have come to the conclusion that his disclosure of his difficulties and struggle to balance his professional and his home life means alot to me. It kind of puts us on even ground. Makes him human.

I know that we are not friends. We do not socialise but we do have a relationship. We talk. I am very open and honest about how I feel about doctors (he laughts it off). I have to say, I have come to feel comfortable with him, like an old slipper, really. I will question him if I am not sure about what he is proposing and I have sometimes challenged him too (I said sometimes, Mary, Tracey). I am one of the people who ask how he is and, I guess, I do like to get an honest response.

After all, he knows all about my babies. He knows my obstetric history, he knows our family and genetic history. He knows about my parent acopia and he has phoned me in the middle of complete and utter breakdown and listened as I bawled down the phone without hanging up in fear. The other day he saw me in the hospital, in trackies and a spew/snot/tear stained t - shirt with my hair like a birds nest and dark circles of worry under my red rimmed, tear filled eyes.

Now I don’t know about you but there are only a few men who have seen me that way… and he is one of the three on my list.

So to hear a bit about his life seems to balance things out.

This brings me to Andrew. The doctor who was there when William was born and was also the doctor who I trusted with the birth of Ivy and Noah. Things were weird between us for a while. After everything we went through together with William, I considered us friends. We spoke as friends. We shared things that friends would. He knew how I was feeling at a time when I was really bad at letting them show. If we were in town, we would drop in to see him. I have worked with him too as a midwife and we have shared a continuing ‘friendship’ through our work.

When I came to him pregnant with Ivy and Noah we instantly changed back to the professional relationship of doctor and patient. I hated it and all my trust in him evaporated because I thought we were friends and he was clearly not reciprocating. It was getting close to d - day and I was not sure I wanted Andrew to care for me any more because I felt he was putting up a fascade, not being honest with me.

Until there was an intervention by our mutual friend, Carolyn, and Andrew and I actually talked. The relief was instant (for both of us, I think). Things have been ok since and we have been able to find some balance.

Again, with Andrew, we don’t really socialise but I still feel that we are friends; because of what we went through together, because of what I have disclosed to him. So, our relationship is different again from that of the paediatrician. I appreciate him immensely.

What do you think? Is it possible to be friends with a doctor?  Does it change things too much? Should we keep our distance and not ask how our doctor is feeling, want to get to know them in the same way that they know about our lives?

For me, those questions have definately been food for thought.

Just on a side note; I suppose I’m thinking alot about this because I am going to read William’s and my hospital notes today with Andrew and straight after that we have Ivy’s sleep study interview…

Before I throw you into Ivy and Noah’s birth, I thought it would be good to give you a bit of history as to how we got to this point. To understand how I was feeling, I guess you need to know William’s story.

Read it if you like but basically;

I am a midwife.

Imogen and Madeline and Lily were all born by caesarean section.

I made a decision to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean) and researched it for a long time before deciding it was the right thing to do.

In the second stage of labour (the pushing part) my uterus ruptured, along my old scar, a little into the upper segment and down to my cervix.

William was severely compromised because of this.

Although, ultimately, it was found that William had a critcal aortic valve stenosis and some mitral valve abnormalities too, that were undiagnosed on ultrasound, his birth did not do him any favours.

Even though the cardiologist said that Will only had a 10% chance on the operating table (very small as his stenosis was severe) if everything had been perfect and he had received the surgery as soon as he was stabilised, I blame myself.

I will live with this forever.

I still believe and advocate VBAC. Statistically, only .98% of women attempting a ‘trial of scar’ will have uterine rupture. 1:200 births, whether it be after one or two caesars.

William and I were the first uterine rupture with death of a baby in 467 VBACs in our hospital.

 

Misc Mum, Karen, my super - blogging hero has tagged me for a meme!

I am the new meme queen around these parts, me thinks.

Here are the instructions:

Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.

Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.

Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.

Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

 

So here we go; 7 random and/or weird facts about me.

 

1. My name was supposed to be Shirley, or something equally 70’s -  esque but my father renamed me after the 1972 September issue’s Playboy centrefold. I must say, I don’t think I lived up to his standards at all. If I was supposed to turn out like my namesake, I think he was sorely disappointed.

2. I can chomp out the tune of Baa Baa Black Sheep by gnashing my teeth together and shaping my mouth in different ways. (Well? It did say weird, I’m giving you weird).

3. I’m in the genetic group of people who’s second toe is longer than my first. This supposedly means I listen to my heart before I listen to my head.

4. I have phone phobia. I have real trouble phoning anyone and sometimes I struggle with picking the phone up when it is ringing. This started just after William died and is a weird little quirk that I am having trouble shaking.

5. When I was little I had a recurring dream that a funnel web spider was chasing me and no matter what I threw on top of it, it would always just throw it off, re - inflate and continue the pursuit.

6. The first birth I attended was that of my dog’s. Mosby birthed four puppies, the second of which was breech. I helped to ease the pup’s head out (and he survived)!

7.  At 35 years of age I can still do the front/back splits to the floor. I can also hold my heel in my hand and extend my leg fully to behind my ear. Although it is getting harder.

Now I have to tag 7 people, which is almost harder than having to think of 7 random facts. (My husband would beg to differ)!

Careful What You Wish For’s Mountainmama

Veronica from Sleepless Nights. Right back at ya, baby!

Mama Lee from Full Plate.

In The Life Of A Child’s Childlife

Joh Blogs from Because I Can.

The very funny X - Box 4 Nappy Rash man.

Mad Goat Lady, whose last couple of posts have been very thought provoking.

Woohoo peoples! I have been profiled here; On Blogging Australia

A little bit of fame for this humbled blogger. Thank you Andrew!

The lovely Veronica from Sleepless Nights has tagged me for a meme! These challenges are reasonably new to me, so forgive me if I still get excited.

The Big Eight

8 Things I Am Passionate About

1. My children, husband and family. I feel very strongly about this. Keeping connections. making sure they know how much I love and appreciate them.

2. Midwifery/ babies/ holistic care and providing women with the best birth possible.

3. Blogging (obviously).

4. Aquiring the best healthcare for the children. At this stage, especially Ivy.

5. When I have a chance to do it, I am passionate about scrapbooking.

6. Teaching the kids about good choices and bad ones and how these will effect their lives.

7. Ice cream. Yep. Love it. I am (sadly) on hiatus from it at the moment - husband imposed. That doesn’t mean I don’t beg for it everytime I have a conversation with him. It is my depression busting food, my food I turn to when everything else is crap. Yum.

8. Spending as much time with my mum that I can and letting her know how much she means to me.

8 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1. Go to Fiji.

2. Go in a hot air balloon

3. Go to Europe

4. Open a free outreach antenatal service for women. A place where they can come for a cuppa, a check up, a chat. A place to come when they feel scared, alone, worried. A place for other women to connect to each other and share their experiences. Somewhere that will compliment their choice of care, be it midwife based or doctor based

5. See my children happy and healthy.

6. Meet my grandchildren and have a good relationship with them

7. Do my Masters

8. Meet up and spend time with (whether it be here or whether we travel to the U.S.) Liz and her family.

8 Things I Say Often (at the moment)

1. "No! Not Hairy Maclary again!"

2. "Look at this mess!"

3. "No jumpy jumpy on the bed!"

4. "Can we please have a different book? Mummy’s tired of reading Hairy Maclary."

5. "Poo! Stinky!"

6. "Behave yourselves or I’ll have to ring Santa."

7. "I can’t read Hairy maclary, he’s gone on holidays."

8. "I love you"

8 Books I Have Read RecentlyBet you can’t guess!

1. Hairy Maclary and Zachary Quack.

2. Hairy Maclary and Scatter Cat.

3. Hairy Maclary’s Catterwaul Caper.

4. The Five Love Languages of Children (yes, it is an adult’s book).

5. Edward the Emu.

6. Underpants Do’s and Don’ts (don’t ask, it’s supposed to be a children’s book).

7. Hug.

8. Hairy Maclary From Donaldson’s Dairy.

8 Things That Attract Me To My Best Friends

1. Something in common

2. Someone I can talk to in good times and bad

3. A good sense of humour. Maybe a little bit of craziness in there too

4. There is something about them that I am not (usually confident)

gee, this is hard…

5. Accepts me the way I am

6. Doesn’t expect a tidy house when they come over

7. Doesn’t tidy up when I come over

8. Likes (or at least pretends to like) children

8 Songs I Could Listen To Over And Over

1. Send In The Clowns (okay, now you know). Pretty weird, hey? I don’t know who the original singers are.

2. My Man, Cheryl Crowe

3. Godspeed -Dixie Chicks

4. Ordinary Boy -Vanessa Carlton

5. Hallelujah -Rufus Wainwright

6. It Is You -Dana Glover

7. Arms Of The Angels -Sarah McLaughlan

8. Is Forever Enough? -Dixie Chicks

8 People Who Should Totally Do This Meme

Sadly, all the people who I would have tagged have already done this so I’ll put it out there for anyone who’d like to take part. I know a bit of a cop out. Sorry.

Edited to add; I tag Tracey from Why Bother . (She cried when she wasn’t tagged).

I was coming up to 28 weeks of pregnancy. I was scared and I was tired.

My doctor was optomistic that I would make it to at least 34 weeks, if not 36.

My iron levels were very low and I had pain. I was anxious, physically and emotionally drained.

My appointment with the good doctor was awful. I didn’t want him to see me so edgy, out of control, upset.

I considered him a friend as well as my doctor. (More about this interesting topic later).

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I had lost faith in my antenatal care.

David had to do all the talking for me.

I guess it is a hard thing to understand. Not many of you out there, who might be reading this, know how Ivy and Noah came to be with us but if all goes to plan, over the next few weeks, you will.

If I have the strength to tell you. If I have the strength to relive it.

A decision was made between the two men that I would come in the following week for an iron infusion. That would bring me close to 29weeks. From there, it was established that I would stay for the rest of the pregnancy under observation.

With that in place, we knew we had alot of organising to do. With five children already at home and being the end of the year, we had to lay down some firm plans. Five weeks in hospital was a long time. For me, for the children and most importantly, for David.

My toddlers eat really well. Ivy especially.

Can you see my tongue pressed firmly on the inside of my cheek?

Today I made lunch, which Ivy and Noah pulled apart, smeared over themselves and then threw to the ground.

I gave them banana.

Noah told me, in no uncertain terms, that banana was only good for one thing; face masks (and not his own either, mine, in case you were wondering).

I gave them sultanas.

When I responded in the negative to Noah’s query of whether the fruit was chocolate he threw the offending brown pieces at me. Like a seal trainer offering up some fish, or throwing the dog a bone…maybe. That’ll teach me for answering honestly. I need to become a stealth Mummy.

I have come to the conclusion they are existing on chocolate, air and their beloved vanilla flavoured formula ("nilla shake - shake").

Linus the dog sits under the highchairs. He knows where his bread is buttered (pardon the pun).

There is nothing wrong with his appetite, nothing at all.

His girth is ever expanding, thanks to the six extra meals (plus snacks) he is getting.

Perhaps I should be more worried about what he is eating, rather than what the twins are not.

He was originally a mini foxie!

Find more Wordless Wednesday entries here

 

Early morning risers, kisses and cuddles in bed as the sun breaks over the mountains.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Debriefing and discussions about dreams during the night, good or bad.

Shiny, clean faces, at the breakfast table. Easy conversation.

Laughing at jokes that aren’t quite funny. Great big smiles that show teeth.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Standing on the verandah, with little bodies close to my side, waving good bye to school children as they walk up the street calling ‘I love you’s’ until they disappear over the hill.

Morning stories, dancing to The Wiggles, new words, new milestones met. Bright blue eyes and faces turned to the sun as they venture outside. Wonderment as the fluff from a dandelion blower flies into the sky, caught by the morning breeze.

Free spirited, loving life play.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Morning naps, angelic, peaceful faces. (Is any mother not grateful for this?).

Bleary eyed babies stumbling out of bed to climb up onto laps. Nuzzles and snuggles and drifting off again with the warmth of their special person. Deep, sleep filled breathing that relaxes the soul.

Emerging sentences, new understanding, watching them grow and learn through play.

New foods, new experiences, evolving personalities.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Excited faces at the gate, in anticipation of the big kids’ return from school.

Excited faces at the gate, happy to be home with the little ones again.

Stories of their day, their worries and their hopes, what made them laugh and why they felt sad.

The house feeling full, the chaotic noise of seven, the push and pull of siblings.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Squeals of happiness, backyard games of cricket, swimming, playing -  togetherness.

Hugs for no reason, an arm around my shoulder, playful banter, exclaimations of ‘you’re the best, Mummy!’

Sharing bath time with the little ones, even though their bodies are changing. Willingly helping when they see I am flagging.

Excited cries of ‘Daddy’s home!’ Little ones standing at the door waiting.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Dinner compliments, voices too loud, spaghetti sauce chins.

TV wind down time, everyone squeezed onto one lounge, when there are two, dogs between legs with furry heads resting on pyjama clad laps.

Talking while the show is on, asking questions about when we were children, interested wonders of ‘the olden days’. (I am constantly telling them I’m not that old).

Bedtime kisses and last minute, trying to stall, anecdotes, needs for a glass of water and one last call to the toilet before bed.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

Slipping quietly into each bedroom, looking upon them, hoping they have a good life.

Pulling their blankets up under chins, tucking soft toys back into the arms of their owners, turning out lights.

Standing in hallways, listening to the house sigh with peace.

That’s what I’m grateful for.

My children.

They lift me up, fill my day, make everything worthwhile. It’s the everyday things.

I’m grateful for them.

 

This was written for Mamablogga’s November Group Writing Project. Why don’t you give it a try?

Ivy is a bit better today and so, I am too.

Noah hasn’t deleted any email, tried to post his disgust at the lack of attention he felt he was not getting on my blog or in anyone elses comments section, therefore, I have come to the conclusion that he is feeling better about the events of today as well.

We read books. ("No - No, read it Clarey? Yes? Yes?"). Translation: Please read me Hairy Maclary 500 times or until I get bored with it.

We snuggled while Ivy slept from 9 until 12:30.

We watched some Wiggles ("I like it, Mar - mee, the big red car!"). Translation; I do enjoy watching those men driving the big red car.

We danced to the Fisher Price Piggy Bank music.

 

"O - oh, I’m a piggy bank with some coins big and small,

with lots of colours you can learn them all.

We’ve got red and orange, we’ve got yellow and blue!

What’s your favourite colour? We’ve got green one’s too"…

 

I know, I know, I seriously need some adult conversation!

Ivy only grizzled and wanted to be a velcro baby for half the day today (the other half she slept) so I’d have to say a little bit better for the Ivy girl means a whole lot better for everyone else.

Here’s to more ‘a whole lot better’ days.

All I can say is thank goodness I don’t have to listen to that durge anymore.

Maybe go here or here for a more enlightening update on the Australian Idol elimination for tonight.

So long, Marty, my ears feel better already.

I met him when I was seventeen. I was your classic loud, jolly fat girl. Hiding behind an oversized personality.

He saw beyond that.

We were friends first. Soon he knew all my secrets.

He listened but didn’t try to change things.

We talked until the sun came up. He was the first one to accept what I wanted for my adult life.

A family, not a career.

He was not like my father.

Not at all.

My life is so different because I met him and I am grateful for him. I thank the universe everyday for his existence.

Life was dysfunctional. He made everything alright.

We married and settled in together. We were young. Although he was worried about what his parents would think, he honoured our decision.

I became a nurse, he encouraged it, supported me.

We had twins. He took it in his stride. Even though he was exhausted he shared the load of bringing up two and then three little girls.

I became a midwife and he was there, helping me all the way.

He opened his heart and his emotions when William died.

He is so different from any man I have ever known.

We compliment each other. He is my night (knight) and I am his day.

I like to spend money, he likes to save.

I like to take risks, he likes stability.

Between us we have a wonderful balance.

It could have been so different, my life but not better. I couldn’t ask for better.

This was written as part of the November Write Away Contest at another of my favourite blogs, Scribbit. It’s my first attempt. Why don’t you give it a try?

Oh my goodness today was a big day!

Last night Ivy took a backwards slide and decided she would cry all night. I don’t know for sure what was going on but by the morning, her temperature was through the roof again. Come daybreak though she was brighter and I thought the worst had passed.

Sadly I was wrong.

The girls had to be in Newcastle for their full dress rehersal of their dance concert this morning. Early. I found out about this on Friday night when Ivy and I came home from the hospital. I don’t know why I forgot… stupid! Vague headed me.

To say I was in a panic was an understatment. I hadn’t paid for costumes, I had to do full make up for three girls and buns as well.

Anywaaaaaaay.

We made our way into town and Noah was his usual happy, easy going self but Ivy…oh, Ivy! She cried and asked to be picked up and when we picked her up she cried some more. She scowled at anyone who came anywhere near her and smacked out at the other children. She was pale and her nose was running terribly.

We had planned to spend the day in Newcastle but Ivy was so very unwell we decided to go home.

She slept on the way home but woke in an even worse mood.

Poor baby.

She just could not tell us what was wrong. Despite panadol she followed David and I around, everytime we put her down (for a toilet break, to hang out school uniforms, to start preparing dinner) saying … ‘it hurts’. Even taking her outside (her treasured outside) just didn’t cut it today.

I felt so sad  that there was nothing that I could do to make it better for her.

David left to pick up the girls and that is when Ivy really lost it.

It is mentally and emotionally exhausting when she is sick and I would love to just sit and cuddle her all day but I have Noah and the other kids to think about too. Maybe the paediatrician was right. Maybe we should have stayed in the hospital for an extra couple of days.

You’ll all be pleased to know that she is tucked up in bed asleep now, medicated with pain relief, antibiotics and chest rub.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

It has to be.

I have discovered a new blog, Wrapped Emotions, through In The Life Of A Child.

Each week there is a prompt to do something creative. This week participators were asked to enjoy their family;

"Go, spend time with your family. Do one little bitty special thing with your children or your spouse or your mother or your sibling or your pet. Even if it’s just a great big extra squishy hug…do it.

Enjoy your family in some small, yet tremendous moment. Then post a few words, a photo…whatever symbolizes the little joy you shared."

So that’s what I did. Being away from everyone for over three days I wanted to have some quality time with the children this weekend. I needed to get some things done too, like make Ivy and Noah’s birthday party invites and send them. So I printed them off and we all sat around colouring them in. Even David and the littlies joined in. We talked about the up and coming party and coloured in too. It was fun and the kids appreciated the time we spent with them.

Here’s a photo that Dave took as we were all hard at work;

 

and here’s a photo of one of the coloured invites;

 

note the beautiful squiggles of colour artistically placed on the page by Ivy. An artist in the making!

After a few horrible days in the hospital Ivy is home. Re-intergration into the house has not been smooth but we’ll get there. Thank you to everyone who sent their well wishes. It meant alot and helped us to get through.

I know I am a little behind but I need to do a little bit of house keeping.

The 1st of November marked the beginning of NoBloPoMo, which I am taking part in. I haven’t quite worked out everything yet but I do know I’m supposed to post every day of November! So far so good, even if I did have to get the technical consultant/new sub editor to post for me.

The 1st of November also marked our official countdown to Ivy and Noah’s second birthday, which falls on the 30th.

It is one of our busiest months with dance concerts, camps away, end of school activities and that all important lead up to Christmas.

Today is David’s mum’s birthday! Happy Birthday Grandma, hope you have a wonderful day!

Now, back to our regular program!

She sits in the chair of the darkened room, hunched over the small, defeated, ball of her child. She worries over this baby because she is always ill.

The day has been a big one. Crying, clinging and high temperatures. After the first convulsion, the child, a girl, has not moved from her lap until the next fit exploded from her body and left her motionless once again.

She is scared and feels alone in the place where she is. She cannot think who to call for help, except for her husband, who is still two hours away from home. The boy child has pottered around for most of the day, seemingly unnoticed but she has seen him, her heart aches to pick him up and cuddle him. Kiss him and tell him she loves him but for now, it is as if she is bolted to the chair by the weight of the girl, unable to move for fear of another convulsion.

Another daughter has remained home today and she is grateful of the help. She does not think she would have survived this day without her there.

For all the world, she wants someone to take this out of her hands.

Finally the paediatrician calls and the decision is made to go to the hospital.

She has a dislike for hospitals, even though she works in one and her trust for doctors is little but the paed has assured her that she will spend as little time in the emergency room as possible and because the girl child is not recovering well from the last fit and because she feels as though she can do no more for her baby she admits defeat and takes her. For the first time in days feels relief.

The emergency staff are efficient and kind. There are people everywhere, movement and blurs of people striding past in their urgency to provide care. In one booth she and her baby sit; the child is still on her lap but she watches everything. For an instant she wishes she were on the other side, giving the care instead of needing it.

Soon the girl child is ready, is canulated and a drip has been started. During it all the girl only cries a little and while everyone comments that the baby is brave, she knows that the girl is beyond caring.

They arrive in the children’s ward in the early hours of the morning. The nurses are friendly and sweep the pair into their room to sleep for the last few hours before sunlight.

It comes too soon and the girl child remains silent and unmoving. Her eyes have a glassy, vacant stare. Her breath comes in quick, sharp gasps. The child only moves when the nurses come to check her drip. Then she screams.

She is still worried about her baby but now it is a shared concern as the paediatrician arrives and looks her over. Another night, more antibiotics. Another 24 hours and the girl will be fine, he soothes the mother. She looks into his green eyes (had she noticed that before?) and finds reassurance and a kindness for the girl child.

Friends ring and some come to visit. The day is both long and short at once. The girl child picks up when the boy and her daddy arrive but she tires easily and when they are gone she falls asleep.

She can see improvement though and feels in control again as she snuggles next to her baby.

Now another morning is here and the sun is shining in from the window. The girl child has woken, like the day.  Fresh and new.

She smiles for the first time in days and kisses the girl child, who responds with a hug.

It is going to be okay, she thinks as she feels her heart begin to beat once more, as she hears herself exhale from the breath she has been holding.

By the Threeringcircus Technical Consultant, recently promoted to Sub-editor:

Your regular author sends her apologies for being unable to blog today.

Aparently it’s been too long since our last hospital admission. Despite our best efforts at managing the situation, we eventually conceded defeat and young Ivy was presented to hospital late yesterday.

As of this afternoon, things are improving - although I can’t include Ivy’s demeanour in this sweeping statement. She certainly has her mother’s critical eye for healthcare standards.

Unfortunately our insurance does not extend to bedside internet access. Nor did the recalcitrant Technical Consultant make alternative arrangements for same.

As a private patient, Ivy did receive a complimentary newspaper with an interesting cover story. I think the irony was lost on her, as her focus was more on stressing the insult of having an I.V. line in the back of her hand. When Noah took pause from his latest book fixation to inspect Ivy’s bio-enhancement, he was told in no uncertain terms, that the "hurts" was not to be touched. As always, chocolate proved to be the most effective distraction.

Hoping to return the the regular schedule shortly.