labour | Ramblings From A Mum

How brave am I with that Title!

Dislocating my shoulder from patting myself on the back…that’s how much.

No honestly I have read a few blogs (such a blagh word) posts..posts sounds much more dignified, of late and wanted to write the below.

This is Mumsy talking ..honest..straight from the heart …the gut…the soul…

Mums,Moms,mothers..no matter what word you use (now take a deep deep breath in) we are special, we are loving, we are caring, we are nurturing, we are protective, we are consoling, we are advises, we are taxi drivers, we are nurses, we are accountants, we are healers, we are protectors, we are hard task masters, we are insane, we are counsellors, we are time keepers, we are the carers, we are …well just mums.

No one prepares you for mother hood no matter how many books you may read, or what advice is imparted by family, relatives or friends. When I was having my 2nd, I pulled into the driveway to drop off daughter # 1 to be greeted by my mum who said “Hope it’s a boy”… Hmmph well I don’t really care at this point I just want IT OUT!!

You can take in all the advice (especially with your 1st) you absorb and then it’s up to you..plain and simple you are the one having said child.. you are the one that is going to go through unexplainable agony to deliver said child and you are the one to raise said child to the best of your ability.

Prior to having your lovely little one….

Do they tell you that you that in the throes of labour you will hate your other half for getting you into this mess in the first place? No

Do they tell you, even though you may decide on a drug free birth that the pain is so great you may simply relinquish all thoughts of not wanting to possibly inflict any drugs into your baby’s system for taking some? No

Do they tell you that you have to have an enema (why couldn’t I just have had prunes?) and a mini shave? (like OMG what is THAT all about) No

Do they tell you that you have to leave any embarrassment aside that you may feel about having your legs spread wide or in stirrups with bright neon lights shining onto your private bits? No

Do they tell you that you will squat, be on all fours, lay down, toss, turn, sit, pant, breathe heavy,cry? No

Do they tell you, you will feel like you are passing a watermelon and not a small baby? No

Do they tell you when your milk comes in day 3 or 4 that you turn into the devil incarnate? No

Do they tell you that relieving your sore and swollen “boobies” can only be helped by (a) standing under a hot shower (b) putting cabbage leaves across them (such elegance) or expressing? No

Do they tell you if you have had to have an episiotomy that the only cure is a salt bath and a whoopee cushion? No

Do they tell you that yes you may not be able to burp your baby and their lips may turn purple? No

Do they tell you it’s natural for you to run down to the nursery if baby isn’t in the same room with you to check on them every 2 minutes? No

Do they tell you that if your baby doesn’t sleep and you are rocking them, laying them along your arm, feeding them, burping them, laying them on your tummy and you will be so sleep deprived that you feel you want to throw them out the window? No

Do they tell you that they will test your patience, make you cry, make you scream, make you say “Why are you even here?? No

Do they tell you that their first bowel movements may make you gag? No

Do they tell you when you bath them that it is ok and you that you won’t accidentally drown them? No

Do they tell you when you want to cook the dinner that that is the time they will play up and cry and want attention? No

BUT SHOULD THEY TELL YOU

That you will go through the worst pain you have ever experienced in your entire life and be grateful that you did and you won’t remember it.

That you will look upon your newborn child with awe and amazement of how you created this tiny being?

That you will snuggle against your newborns skin and take in their baby smell and realise that is all you have ever wanted or needed in your life.

That you watch them feed and gaze at their sleepy eyes as they close sated with milk.

That you will listen to their first words and think they are the most brilliant child to be born.

That you will watch them take their first steps and be warm,fuzzy and proud inside.

That you will heal their wounds and band aid their cuts when they fall.

That you will treasure the moment they bring home their first piece of art work from kinder and school.

That you will be so excited for them when they have met a friend.

That you will be the shoulder they need to cry on when they have been hurt by someone.

That you will be there to help and guide and protect and nurture them for as long as you live.

That yes there will be testing times and angry times and frustrating times but it’s all part of being a mum.

That you think being a mum for all it’s trials and tribulations is what you have wanted more than anything else in this world.

That the love you feel for them is insurmountable.

That you would lay your life down for them.

Yes that is what is being a mother is all about…here for the long haul through thick and through thin, to encourage, to help, to guide, to mentor, to love.. and truly…I am so happy to be a mum..happy to have these (now adult girls) who will always be ‘my babies’. Proud of their accomplishments and yes can acknowledge their failures or have doubts about how they live their lives. BUT still… seeing a part of me in them for better or worse and being individuals and simply just them being them makes me proud.

Yes they may take a wrong turn, make decisions you aren’t happy with but it’s all part of growing up and they are learning as you continually do.

Embrace your role …I have…I will continue to do so…sometimes it’s difficult, sometimes you want to pull your hair out, sometimes you scream and rant and rave at things they have done…but they are your creation. They are part of you and for me, my 2 daughters are … well…. two human beings that I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever want not be in my life.

I am in awe of them..now and always.

24th March 1983

Here I am lying in bed in the hospital. I am to be induced tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. I have had the obligatory enema and mini shave, thinking, “My God, this is only the beginning of any embarrassment or degradation—tomorrow morning I will bearing much more to the world.

At 5 a.m. on the 25^th March, I woke up in a hospital bed and was served a mandatory cup of tea by a smiling, whispering nurse. By 7.35 a.m. I was wheeled into the delivery room. As I lay on the pristine, starched white sheets, staring at the ceiling and the fluorescent lights above me, my thoughts were ones of terror. I was now scared to death as to what lay before me. To make things worse, the paediatrician who was supposed to guide me through the birth with the hypnotherapy did not arrive, so the prospect of going through childbirth “à la natural” was now frightening me beyond belief.

I was placed on the drip at 8.40 a.m. To the hour, my first contraction hit at 9.40 a.m. Even though the paediatrician had given me a few lessons on self-hypnotherapy, I could not concentrate long enough to guide myself through it. The idea of a needle protruding through my arm now seemed far more preferable to labour.

By 2 p.m., the contractions were physically overpowering me and I didn’t think I could handle much more. I tried everything I could to ease the pain; lying on one side, then on the other, knees bent up to my chest, straightened legs, on all fours, standing leaning over the bed, grabbing hold of the sheets, walking around the bed, squeezing John’s hand till I almost drew blood.

The pain of childbirth, though mercifully and miraculously erased so quickly in one’s mind after the event, looms like an undefeatable spectre when you are in the throes of it. My original intent to try for a drug-free birth ended up with me screaming, “OK, I give in! Give me an epidural!” I don’t even think I said please!

Fortunately for John I didn’t yell abuse at him, as some women are known to do. I pitied him standing beside me. He was helpless, looking upon my writhing body that seemed possessed by demonic forces.

“Do you want ice chips to suck on, darling? Would you like a shoulder rub? A back rub? Or should I just leave the room perhaps and come back when you’re done?”

The straightforward truth is that no matter what a husband might suggest or offer in his endeavor to try and alleviate your misery, he cannot help you. You are alone in the battle. You are the one who is grimacing, panting, squirming and bearing the discomfort and the pain. And when you look up at his unhappy face, knowing that he probably wishes he were anywhere else but watching you, all you can do for each other is hold hands.

The anaesthetist came in; I rolled onto my left side and he inserted a needle into my back. By this stage a small pin-prick in my spine was more inviting than a glass of champers and a full body massage administered by George Clooney. It was miraculous how quickly the epidural took effect. With each contraction, although I felt some sensation, I felt no pain and only the overwhelming desire to push, usually at inappropriate intervals when I should have been panting. My doctor arrived at 4.55 p.m., and with the help of forceps and my legs high in the stirrups, baring all and sundry to the brightly lit room, my baby daughter entered this world, weighing in at 7lb (3.175kgs).

Here was this tiny human being we had created. A miracle, perfection in every way, with ten fingers and ten toes, her head covered with dark hair, her body coated in vernix. I was overcome with a euphoria you feel after you have given birth, one of life’s natural highs that you could never dream to be possible. She was placed on my stomach as I cried tears of excitement, joy and gratitude for how beautiful and perfect she was.

We had decided to call her Lauren, and now that we beheld her tiny face, the name seemed to fit her exactly.

When she was taken away for the “cleaning up” process, John and I were left alone to exchange private words and to somehow articulate the event that had just taken place. In the space of those moments, we tried to come to grips with the fact that we now had a daughter, that we were now not a couple but a family, and to contemplate how our lives would change forever.

Even though I was totally exhausted, I could not settle and was absolutely famished. I tucked into a huge plate of sandwiches and a cup of tea while Lauren was attended to by the nursing staff. She was then brought back to us and shortly afterwards was put to my breast to suckle the colostrum. All I wanted to do from this moment on was to hold her close, look at her, touch her and smell her. I felt an instant and unshakable determination to love this little person unconditionally from the very first time she was handed to me, wrapped snuggly in the baby blankets that I had bought months before. My instinct told me that all I wanted on this earth was to be able to protect her from this day onwards from any harm or misfortune, for as long as humanly possible.