I gave him a bucket and put him to bed.

That evening, when he woke, he was overcome in a hot sweat and couldn’t walk straight. He was so pale, so out of kilter and vomiting. I knew immediately a hospital dash was in order. Panicking, but cool  I woke Monte up and we went up to the hospital.

On the way the orange light (ie – you have no petrol!) came on, but I stayed on track saying silent prayers to the gods of kindness to get us to the hospital.

We made it.

Monte was grizzling that he was freezing, Cowboy complaining that he was hot. We darted into the Emergency Room and we were admitted straight in.

The nurse gave him some needles and had blood taken — we sat there for a few hours.

His dizziness and lightheadedness continued. Each time he tried to get up his world continued to spin. We got the feelings the nurses were in a hurry to rush him out despite Cowboy saying “No, I don’t feel right” They gave him something for vertigo and at 1am we left.

Cowboy wasn’t able to walk  so they popped him in a wheelchair – I fetched the car and picked him up where the ambulances drop off patients.

The orange light was luminous.

We went to get petrol only to discover that every last petrol station had closed.

I had 12kms to get back home, oh and we didn’t have our phone with us either. Cowboy was sweating, nauseous and his world was spinning. Timmet was kicking like a kung-fu trainee and my eyes were begging me for eight to twelve hours of closure.

Monte was delirious “When we get home I want to watch Playschool movies!”

I fanged it (sensibly), this time summoning the gods of ‘don’t give us another kick up the arse please, please please  allow the car to get us home.”

I have never driven with more determination. Constantly fighting off images of us conking out on the road that had little traffic, starring a waddly pregnant lady flagging down a truck, a Cowboy spewing in the background ,Monte asking 1000 questions and my tummy was being used as a pinball machine by it’s 31 week inhabitant.

Aunty Rose’s car proved to us again that she was a true legend.

We made it home, on nothing. Reiterated our love for this car – she survived a flood, now this. If we had the energy we would have kissed her.

Instead, we jumped out and Cowboy vomited.

I put the shadow of his former self to bed.

Monte says “We can’t go to bed now it’s dinner time!”

I pray to  the Gods of “I will never ask another thing, but please, please take mercy on my soul” and he is asleep within no time; we all are.

Though, as always when I sleep there is a thin veil of worry that never lets me go completely under.  I was listening out for Cowboy’s snoring, (he was in the other room, we didn’t want to catch what was going on) and I couldn’t hear it.

I rushed in, he was fast asleep. Exhausted.

I hate seeing him sick.

They said it was a bit of a vertigo thing, not sure – we are off to the Docs tomorrow. Am keeping him in Hydralites and buckets – although that side of things has improved today.

The petrol tank is full as a boot and I think I have exhausted my years supply of prayers to the various gods in my life.

For starters, I don’t really actually want to be in here, it’s making me anxious and I have cabin-fever. However, I refuse to get up for fear I will then have to give up my being waited on rights.

So hear I lie, just cos I can and flick through my Facebook newsfeed and feeling the wave of Mothers Day sweep over me while Timmet inside kicks me excitedly so as to constantly remind me that YES YOU ARE A MOTHER and YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN (mwahahahahaha) !

And this is lovely and frightening and I force myself to enjoy being in bed – ENJOY it. Sleep in it! Don’t worry about housework (I am sure there is something in hormones that makes this happen by the way, because it never used to bother me)

But alas, I cannot sleep – and I cannot just lie here, my mind prepares to-do lists and I read blogs and I think, think, think – when I should be just….. swanning…… from pillow to pillow.

Once upon a time, I had a gift for bed.

I remember getting up at 7pm once for dinner. Then going back to the boudoir. Upon waking the next day I wasn’t sure what day it was, or what meal I was due for – and feeling tired because I had slept too much.

Sad really.

But equally as sad is that Motherhood seems to have robbed me of this gift, a gift I long for but seem to no longer have at my disposal.

Perhaps Timmet will help me find it again, and at the same time she will rob me of the chance to partake in it.

Oh it’s a cruel world.

Happy Mother’s Day!

This is not me, but it could be.

The Supermoon came and went and I didn’t even notice it. Which, is strange because normally when the moon does big things Monte and I spend half the night howling to it or one of us engaging in night terrors.

Nup, it came and went.

Then last night, as I slept next to Monte in his bed – he woke many times screaming and crying for his Noonie (my Mum) – then went back to sleep. I was there consoling him, in all my pregnant I have 2cm on this bed glory, pining for the queen sized bed Cowboy was luxuriously diagonal in.

Those were the days.

When it was time to wake, I had an unwavering sense of the irritable. I believe it comes with the territory of pregnancy and broken sleep and therefore feel I am not allowed to complain about the choices I make – but I am certainly going to have a vent about them.

It is Thursday, childcare day – and this I always dread as well as crave.

He was OK for a while with childcare but lately does NOT want to go, and I can’t tell you how hard he makes it for me.

He screams and cries and then when I take him there clings to me like a koala bear. When his little mates run up to say hello he has taken to screaming and grabbing even tighter onto me.

I cannot get out of the door.

“I want no-body to talk or look at me” he says.

This morning as he clung to me and cried, so did I.

Inability to hold emotions in at present, no matter where!
This felt fabulous with the patronising comments from the 20 year old Childcare lady. Ok, she is nice, but are any of them in there Mothers? I was this big waddling, emotional mess with a three year old begging me to stay after the night we had and today — I had nothing left. I needed to get away – and yeah, of course, I wailed like  a banshee (whatever that is) all the way back to Yenda direct to get a strong latte and crumpets.

I felt I just couldn’t take anymore. I felt run-down from my emotional reponses to him. Why couldn’t I just be one of those Mothers who is able to sometimes ignore her kid? If there was a prize for Attentive Mother of the Year, I would absolutely nail it.

I know each to their own in this game of Motherhood but sometimes I wish I was a Mother who was able to just take a step or two back – not be so emotionally invested in his emotions – not analysing myself or what I need to do with every emotion he faces.

I have this underlying fear of stuffing him up, and probably am.

I am sure there is something that I am compensating for, something I need that makes me so anxiously trying to be the most available person in the world to Monte – but at times, a lot, it is exhausting. Moreso now as I am uncomfortably pregnant.

I am not one of those parents who freaks out if he tries to climb a tree or put a lizard in his mouth, I let him do his thing – it is more – I feel I have to respond to every emotion he has. (and OK the lizard thing is just an example, thankfully I have never witnessed this, but good luck to him if he tried)

It is not Monte’s fault (it never is – Cowboy would probably say) and yes I have become one of those Mothers. Nothing is his fault, I am the leader, if he is too emotionally dependent on me then that is because I allow him to be —

and then.

Then I read all about attachment parenting and how GOOD it is to co-sleep with your child and I follow all these sites and I feel like yes I am doing something right, it is good how I am  — then, if I start thinking about teaching him to sleep in his bed on his own and implement a bit of tough love – I am overcome with guilt and CANNOT FATHOM DOING IT.

I can’t cope either way. I should stop reading.

I don’t know if it is WRONG that I am so available to Monte, I don’t know if I am helping him, I don’t know if my being there all the time is good or bad — I just follow my instincts and my instincts are like an Army Sargeant when it comes to Monte – I am there for every emotional whim even at the expense of my own.

I don’t know what to do – and I don’t want to be told what to do – I just wish I knew, like really knew within myself what to do.

Now pass me the crumpets.

Pregnancy can sure do some wacky things to your nocturnal mind can’t it?

When I was pregnant with Monte I had a most disturbing dream early on that I was gave birth to a Crow. Eek. I shudder just thinking about it, but last night’s dream just made me laugh so much, not sure Cowboy saw the funny side of it.

I won’t go into lengthy detail because no-one wants to hear the long and frickin’ boring details of ANY-ONE’S dream especially the bits where you were at this place, but it wasn’t really this place and it turned into this place…. kind’ve talk!

TO THE CHASE.

I was 8 weeks off having a baby, but it wasn’t Cowboy’s – and I had decided to confront the Daddy and let him know —

WHO WAS IT?

UMMMMMMMMM THE MOST UNLIKELY PERSON EVER WHY THE HELL DID HE ENTER MY HEAD?

None other than Mr Terence Trent D’Arby.

He was pretty happy with the news too – how do I know?

He instantly serenaded me:

“Sign your name across my heart, I want you to have my baby…..”

As you were.

Monte and Rusty from a couple of years ago...

Last weekend Cowboy took one of our dogs, Rusty, over to Hay. A mate of his, also a Cowboy had asked about our dogs as he knew that they were currently out of work. Our three sheep-dogs have been backyard dogs for the last year, and have been going a little bit batty.

So, Rusty was given the opportunity to go and do what he does best – round up some sheep. He may stay with Cowboy’s friend long-term, we don’t know – we will see how it pans out for him over the next couple of weeks.

Today while feeding the remaining dogs – Bowie and Sam – Cowboy explained where Rusty was to Monte.

Oh. Dear.

I didn’t know WHAT had gone on. Monte was bawling his eyes out and was talking one hundred miles an hour at me “I don’t want Rusty to go and do sheep work on another farm, I don’t want somebody to take Rusty, I just want him to stay here with us”

He cried huge, loud, emotional tears. On and on they went, rolling down his face.

We explained that Rusty is a sheep-dog and is off doing what he loves on Dad’s friends farm – this did not matter. He was not here with us.

Our hearts broke watching poor Monte cry, and I knew it was especially hard on Cowboy as he felt sad about it too. I think there was something special in him being able to share that emotion with Monte today. Showing him it was alright to feel sad, and to miss him.

But, that is life isn’t it? It has it’s huge share of  sad, disappointing, heartbreaking things that happen – even when they are for the greater good – they can still hurt.

Things that make us feel sad are part of life. We are best to face them, have a cry, acknowledge how we feel and then move on.

It will be the first of many big emotions that Monte will have to deal with in life , there was no point trying to pretend it was something that it wasn’t.

It was Okay to be sad – all of us, including the other dogs will miss him - but I have no doubt Rusty is beyond stoked to be back in the land of sheep doing what he was born to do.

Me and my 30 week old bump.

30 Weeks I am, well officially on Wednesday, always a couple of days ahead of myself. I’ve hit the 3′s. I could have a new baby in as little as 7 or as many as 10 weeks. Can I get a Holy Crackers?

I am feeling round, getting kicked left right and centre including in important organs. I’m out of breath because I’m sure there is some lung squashage going on, my bladder has been converted into a bench seat and is the chair of choice for my lady in waiting.

I am enjoying bouts of reflux which interfere with my desire to eat.  I walk with a waddle and I groan like an 89 year old when I drop something / roll over / want to get my own way.

I feel enormous, a couple of people have actually said to me “You are tiny” these words do not compute. But thank-you. If I remember correctly the next weeks will see me quadruple in size pretty rapidly. This baby is measuring well and on dates and she is an active son of a gun – well daughter of a gun.

My face is pregnant and has taken on Bert Newton characteristics, my bottom and my legs also somehow got knocked up. But I’m down with it all. This body  knows how to create life and I’m not here to judge it – its gotta do what its gotta do. And it is all pretty marvellous really! Bless it.

The prizes?

1) I am lucky enough to have ANOTHER copy of Lessons from the Monk I Married – by Katherine Jenkins to giveaway

You can read my review of this wonderful book here, you can join Kathy’s Facebook page here 

One copy of this book to giveaway!

AND due to my current nesting and everything needs to be organised within an inch of it’s life – when I came across this little handbag organising beauty I contacted Borne Naked to see if they would be interested in giving one away — they said YES! How nice is that?

One Borne Naked Medium Sized Handbag Organiser to Giveaway!

This has been my handbag SAVIOUR. You should have seen my bag before, actually no, no you probably shouldn’t have. I did plan on taking a before and after photograph but I couldn’t do it honestly, my bag was in shambles.

The beautiful thing about the handbag organiser is if you are a handbag junkie, (in more ways than one) you can easily swap handbags by transferring all your goods from one to the other. This ticked the boxes in my being organised fetish.

I will select the winner on Mama’s Day (if I am not being pampered somewhere, then it will be the next day) actually I’ll get Cowboy to select it so I’m not being biased in any-way. Alright?

Good stuff. Go for gold my friends!

Am in the organising stages for my Blessingway Ceremony. From what I gather these ceremonies are usually for the first-born and act as a bit of a passageway into Motherhood. Had I have known about this when pregnant with Monte I may have considered, but regardless, it feels right for me, now. Really right actually.

A couple of great things happened for me last week and it has reminded me how important it is to set intentions in your life.

As part of my role as Guinea Pig for Think Beautiful, I was asked to write my personal mission statement, (you can read about this next week).

Through this exercise it was interesting what popped up as really important to me.

I realised how much it meant for me to have girlfriends in my life – and I felt although I have many girlfriends – I hadn’t spent as much time with (in 3D anyway) nurturing or feeling nurtured by these relationships – mainly because I have had some hermit-like thing going on and that crazy fear thing.

It sounds basic – but this was an aspect of myself that I have been a bit afraid of in recent years.

I  guess the whole motherhood thing changed my social context and put me in unfamiliar territory.

I have never felt in my element talking babies with Mums as it was a far-cry from bonding over shots at the pub with mates and I have had to work out who I am now.

In doing this I realised how much I missed and needed to feel real friendship with other women.

Not just through a few “likes” on my Facebook Status.

From setting this intention last week some miracles unfolded rapidly.

I was lead to Alice’s blessingway, I had an enthusiastic offer to help with my own from  Sonia from Life in Balance  and  I read about Karly’s experience with a Women’s Circle .

All in the space of a week. (Thank-you Alice, Sonia and Karly for providing my needed inspiration!)

I had voiced my need and it was as if the Universe was saying “HELLLLOOOOOO this is what you need to do – we have made it SUPER EASY FOR YOU! JUST SAY YES! FEEL THE FEAR AND SAY YES!”

So, I’m having a blessingway.

There are so many reasons,why this is important.

I have talked about my fears of giving birth again, I have spoken about my anxiety and I’ve spoken about my fears in having enough love to go around for my family.

Granted, I have talked a lot about my fears.

It has been therapeutic to name them and be aware of them and to acknowledge them.

I have completed this part now – I have laid it all out – I don’t need to rehash them.It is time for me to take a conscious step in my own healing.

I am about to become Mother to a daughter.

A little girl who needs a role-model who is actively involved in creating the life she wants, but also active in healing any past hurts.

She deserves a role model who isn’t afraid of life –  who acknowledges her hard times, and is able to ask for what she needs to get through.

She deserves a Mother who has great aspirations and love and life to live – who trudges like a warrior through the murky parts of it to get to the beautiful fountain on the other side.

The good news is – I can see the fountain – and I now know through what I must tread to reach it.

I know the fountain isn’t the be-all and end-all – there will be a murky swamp nearby, you can bet your butt – but my commitment is to taking the journey – not looking for quick exits.

So, this is the reason for my personal blessingway.

I am taking the reigns on my own healing  and have asked for the support of women I respect to be there for me.

I have been really touched by the support coming from the blogosphere and the lovely emails and comments I have received.

At about 3am last night, I lay awake with “Timmet” doing a triple pike somersault and something slipped into my memory.

I remember years ago borrowing a friend’s jacket to wear to work.

This friend has many traits I admired including absolute self-confidence, a magnetic personality and a fabulous sense of humour – I remember telling her after I wore her jacket for a day that I had literally “taken on” some of her traits that day, just by having a piece of her with me.

By receiving a bead from all the women who inspire me, and wearing it into the birth of my daughter, this is exactly what I will be doing.

I will be taking my little piece of inspiration from each of these women while harnessing my own inner power and I am going to be in the best, most supported, most loved position to start my next role as Mum to both a little boy AND a little girl.

I have put it out there to friends and family near and far — why do I feel so, so scared now?

I think there is  great power in asking for the support of your sisters and family women in such a vulnerable yet important time in my life-  yet it makes me so nervous – I honestly reckon it would be less daunting to say “Come to my baby shower (read: bring me “stuff”)”

What does that say about society when it feels harder to ask for ‘stuff’ than for a bit of love and support?

Or is that just me? It could be just me.

Creating this event for me is very scary, because it is coming out and asking for love — no easy feat.

If you’d like to be involved and send some words and a bead to me I’d love the support of the women in my life, and that includes my bloggy readers who have become friends! I’m really wanting to feel empowered as I become Mum to a little girl and I think this is a really important part of my healing process – because lets face it I’ve had an anxious old pregnancy so far. I want to do something positive and I need to take on the spirit of wonderful women in both my 3D and bloggy life.

If you want to be involved drop me a comment and I”ll let you know where you can send your words and bead to.

SEE UNCOMFORTABLE AGAIN? ASKING PEOPLE TO SEND ME THEIR BLESSING – OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE – BUT DOING IT ANYWAY!

Off to rock in the fetal position after feeling the fear and doing it anyway!

As you were :-)

:-)

I have written much about my friend Alice Grist over the years, and she has written many guest pieces for this website. She is the spiritual gal in the high heels who dabbles with the kooky in a down to earth fashion.

She is a published author with two fantastic books and one on the way (in more ways than one) I am looking forward to reading Dear Poppyseed, A Soulful Momma’s Journal when it hits the press. 

She is a couple of months ahead of me with her pregnancy (due this month) , also with a daughter and she told me about a most beautiful ceremony she had with all the women in her life to celebrate her passageway into Motherhood and the upcoming birthing experience.

So taken was I about her meaningful ceremony I asked if she would share a piece with my readers, and you know what I feel quite compelled to have a similar for mine — love to know what you think of it all after you have had a read. 

My Baby Blessingway – An Alternative Baby Shower Report.

By Alice Grist

Having a baby shower was not for me. I toyed with the idea, was encouraged by some, and even got as far as setting a date and venue. But the thing is, despite me being half American and having ‘baby showers’ in my blood, I could not justify the fact that in having a shower I was essentially asking for presents. Being also half British it seemed there was something terribly vulgar about it. Indeed my spiritual and soulful inclinations were not content that the first event I would ever hold for my unborn child was one so very much centered on fueling rampant consumerism.

As a result I quit my baby shower plans and started to think of an alternative. This was when I found the wonderful, slightly hippy event that has come to be known as a Blessingway Ceremony. A Blessingway is loosely based around ancient Navajo female tradition and ritual, though has been broadly interpreted by a generation of women who may wear moccasins, but, only as part of a fashion trend and who would prefer pink frosted cupcakes to signify closure of a ritual to the latter day alternative of smoking a peace pipe.

A Blessingway ticks many of the boxes of a baby shower. It’s a gals event only. We all gather together under one roof, food and drink are partaken of and afterward much chatter and gossip indulged. The massive and most important difference however is that no gifts are requested or exchanged. The only thing I requested my females bring to me was a blessing, a candle and a bead.

Here is where the ritual averse amongst you might switch off, but let me assure you, the girls I invited to the Blessingway are not soulful hippy trippy divas like me. They are normal, everyday ladies whose idea of ritual most likely extends only to their daily cleanliness and beauty routine. Yet despite this, they all turned up, they all came well prepared to read aloud in front of a group, and they did it because, well because they are clearly awesome and they sincerely care. This is just the first blessing I received that day.

The beautiful Alice

Once all the women were gathered the most important thing to undertake was the blessing ceremony itself. I kept it fairly informal and we went round the group reading out blessings that are aimed at blessing the path of my baby into the world, but also celebrating my leap into motherhood. Some of these were written personally for me, others were sourced from favorite poems or quotes. Either way each reading was hugely meaningful and heartfelt, far more than I think anyone expected. My mother sobbed her way through her reading and when I turned to view the room, there was not a dry eye or tissueless hand in the house. I haven’t seen my Mum cry since… well probably since the eighties. To say that the blessings were emotional is probably a little bit of an underestimation on my part.

Alongside the blessings we all lit a candle each. Each candle was taken home with the lady it came with and when I go into labour I will send a text asking them to light the candle and send me some happy thoughts. This continues the Blessingway magic right up to when the power of it is needed and helps me to feel supported whilst undertaking the physical challenges of birth.

Before the gossiping and eating commenced there was only one last ‘ritual’ to perform. I had asked everyone to bring me a bead. I collected them all up, a real crazy, colourful assortment of course, and had my stepmum string them up for me. Each bead represents the spirit of the Woman who gave it to me, and I will pack these in my hospital bag and wear the beads whilst birthing. The nicest thing about the beads is that I have been able to request beads from family and friends far afield who were unable to attend. As such I am currently awaiting beads from the US, Tokyo and Australia. When I go into labour I will literally have the whole world at my back!

As far as I am concerned blessings and beads beat bunting and baby gifts any day! Whilst I am of course not averse to gifts being bought, it’s only right that they are given without request. All a Blessingway does is asks for a little love, and whilst I only expected a little I actually got a whole lot. I feel so lucky to have such beautiful friends and family who are willing to submit to a little ritual to show they care. Baby’s way has been thoroughly blessed and my heart is literally singing with the kindnesses and warmth I received that day.

 I am very happy that I posted a bead with my blessing to Alice in the UK yesterday, I just hope it arrives in time for her birthing experience and that my bead can be added! I just think this is such a beautiful, meaningful thing to do and am thinking about having my own. I love that she asked for a little love as her gift and received it in loads. Something very special about harnessing the power of the special females in your life at this time – don’t you think?