On Thursday I turned 33. The day before heralded a new week of pregnancy – week 33.

Never one to be too excited by birthdays, I was surprised that I felt light and free – not 33 in either sense.

An old friend was staying with us all the way from Dublin. We worked together for a short time in Sydney and caught up briefly a year later in Dublin and London and kept in touch somewhat sporadically in the intervening years. The last time we saw each other I was just 23.

When I heard he was coming to Australia, I admit I had a few fretful moments – so much time had passed and my life now bore no resemblence to my life then. Our whole friendship had been a blur of happy hours and hungover workplace camaraderie, I wondered if we’d still share the same bond we did then. I worried he would find me boring and a pregnant party pooper.

But I needn’t have worried. In that way that true friendship bends and shifts with time, I found that the years had not changed us as much as they had smoothed off our edges. We laughed at the dramas we created in our 20s and lamented at how those dramas were self-sabotaging and seemed created to prevent our own happiness.

Now as we navigate our way through the mid-thirties, our passage seems smoother and less stormy leaving us each feeling more content with our lives. A timely birthday reminder.

My actual birthday was spent with a leisurely brunch and then a wander through South Bank to GoMA. The sun was shining and the sub-tropical humidity built up dark storm clouds in the distance. A typical Brisbane summer day.

Dinner was spent at my favourite Greek taverna with a group of my favourite people stuffing ourselves full of the most delicious and fresh food (I’m still having fetta-based flash backs). I even dragged my pregnant self around to a couple of bars for a celebratory cranberry and soda!

So far, thirty three is shaping up pretty well.

How about you? Do you relish another year ‘older and wiser’ or do you want to turn back time?

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Post tags: birthday, celebrations, greek food, pregnancy

I’ve been thinking alot lately about my inner fears, those tip-tapping thoughts have kept me awake some nights during this pregnancy.

The fears that probably stop me writing about my hopes and dreams for this pregnancy and the baby boy I’ll be welcoming in around eight weeks time.

You see, last pregnancy I felt like a goddess. I was blooming, full of hope and wonder about what my body was doing and was capable of. I went to yoga weekly and got in touch with my baby from early on in the pregnancy, I read about pregnancy and birth and I felt educated and in awe of this life-changing event that was taking place.

This time, not so much. Sure, I’ve felt well for the majority of the time and at 32 weeks I don’t yet feel too massive and have been taking walks around my neighbourhood, while work and running after the boy keeps me busy.

But the fear, it’s always there. The fear, not of the birth itself – though that is sometimes there too – but of the aftermath … replaying in my head the moment that I found out that my perfect baby boy that I’d held in my arms for a few hours at that point wasn’t as perfect as I thought.

Memory flashbulbs click: the paediatrician looks him over while I fuss over packing my bag to leave. Trivial things. My hindsight marvels at how confident I was that all was well. He leaves, says he needs to discuss something with his superior. I think nothing. He mentioned that we had different blood types and we’ll probably have to stay in.

FLASH. A perky female paediatrician walks in with a team of student doctors and asks if I mind if they come in to discuss my son. Thinking it’s about the different blood type thing I agree.

FLASH. She holds my son and begins pointing out his face to the students, discussing its asymmetry and mentioning Sly Stallone.

FLASH. I look at my baby boy and for the first time see what they are seeing. I look helplessly at Mr P who looks helplessly back and I wonder if they can tell by my face that this is the first I had heard about this. That I never saw it, that my love for him was so instant and blinding that I never for a second thought there could be anything wrong.

FLASH. They are gone as quickly as they arrived and I remember us both shedding tears and hugging, confused as to what this meant, while we waited for word that Dr Superior could see us and tell us more.

FLASH. Dr Superior is busy so we’re asked to walk down to Special Care to meet him there. We push our baby boy down in one of those see-through baby bed trolleys, while he screams.

Mr Superior greets us and is joined by the perky paediatrician and her army of students. He is straight into business, inspecting our son while firing questions at the students about ‘upper and lower movement’ and other things that seem straight out of an episode of House. I cry silent tears, while I watch on. My baby held aloft. Scrutinised. He calls off the questioning and speaks to us matter-of-factly. I don’t think he names it at that point, but tells us the right side of our baby’s face is not moving. There are two possible outcomes: that the right facial nerve was damaged during the birth and would come good in a few weeks, or that it is a congenital problem that would be here to stay.

I remember the bulk of the students seemed awkward and said nothing to us, but one of the young female students touched my arm and said ‘Bells Palsy or no Bells Palsy, he is radiant’. Well that’s the closest to a direct quote my hazy mind allows. I know the word she chose was an unusual one and that it was instantly comforting. I felt in that moment that she could see what I saw – a beautiful and healthy baby boy.

Although not life threatening, a permanent and noticable difference like facial palsy has the potential to be life defining. I worry that J will struggle for acceptance among peers, that in a world obsessed with the external that he’ll be harshly judged or overlooked. I worry most about what he’ll grow to think of himself and hope he doesn’t grow to hate his smile, learning to hide it out of fear of what others will say.

It took me a long while to embrace these as legitimate fears – I was told ‘it could be so much worse’, that ‘at least he’s healthy’, that ‘it’s barely noticeable’. Words of comfort that only served to intensify my guilt and concern, while I smiled and pretended it was fine.

And now more than two years on, it mostly is.

Learning that there is something ‘wrong’ with your baby just after birth is not something anyone is ever prepared for. In so many ways, in those first hours you are left wide open and vulnerable, so opened up with love for this little person that such news delivers a powerful sucker punch leaving you wounded and confused and so, so scared.

And I’m scared of that happening again – I’m scared instead of welcoming my new boy with that all-consuming love that I did with my first born, that instead I will be consumed with fear, looking him over and bracing for that first check-up.

But in writing these fears down and sending them out into the ether, my hope is that they won’t weigh as heavy on me and this little one who will soon be here. This little one who has also chosen me to be his mother for some crazy reason, just like his brother before him. I wonder what this little soul has been sent to teach me?

And in that thought I realise how open my heart still is. And in the emotion version of paper, rock, scissors, an open heart beats fear every time.

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Post tags: facial palsy, pregnancy fears

The last week has been action-packed, but restorative. I enjoyed a child-free day on Monday that saw our tax finally completed for 2011 which I celebrated by taking myself off for a solo movie date to see the Descendants (loved!).

It was around that time that the raining began, and it’s been raining without much break since. Following the floods last summer, so much rain seemed even more disconcerting than usual. Summer rain, relentless and humidity-inducing. Yet, for me whether by coincidence or reason the rain brought with it more clarity, washing away some fears that have been plaguing me and I could see my path, lit and clear in front of me.

I laughed and ate delicious food with friends on a week night and came home to my boy waking to the sound of my voice, wanting a hug and for me to sit by him while he drifted back to sleep.

I listened to the Hottest 100, while enjoying a BBQ with family and made mental lists of the songs that weren’t on my iPod and should be.

I had a midwife appointment and heard my little boy’s heartbeat, while my big boy looked on and I felt excited and in awe about welcoming him in around nine weeks.

We took J to the GP to get a referral to a speech pathologist and it didn’t feel scary or anxiety inducing.

My mum and I went to see Mary Poppins and it was magical – reminding me of the importance of living your life with joy and purpose.

I finally set my Mum up with a blog as she’s been pestering me to do this for ages (you can read her first post here). I was avoiding it – worried about what she would write and what affect it would have on me (ego, anyone?).

In setting up her blog, I’ve realised how much I’ve learned since setting mine up almost two years ago. She wants to be ‘big’ and ‘get lots of comments’ and wondered how she should achieve this. I shrugged and said ‘it’s time consuming and there’s no guarantees. You really have to be writing for yourself.’

She didn’t seem happy with that. ‘Why bother if noone is going to read it?’, she asked.

I’ve asked myself the same thing in many different ways, at many different times at countless forks in the road.

I’ve agonised over stats, tried to prod myself into interacting with the twitterverse more often (while feeling ignored most of the time) and in doing so compared my worth to people I don’t know and who I probably have nothing in common with.

I haven’t asked the ‘why bother’ question as much lately and in doing so have found myself connecting with my own worth and purpose.

I bother because I enjoy it. I bother because I feel I have something to say. I bother because I need to write to release my internal chatter and pressure valve. I bother because I want to hear from others that are experiencing the same thoughts and feelings I am. I bother because to not bother would be the worst thing of all.

Here’s to bothering and all the potential it brings!

How do you inspire yourself to keep bothering (with blogging, or whatever else floats your boat)?

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Post tags: getting on track, inspiration, rainy weeks, why bother blogging, why I blog

Our backyard is small but perfectly formed.

Although we live in a house, our backyard is more a paved courtyard with all our grassiness at the front.

A legacy of sub-dividing our city’s middle suburbs, our block was cut in two before us and now a house occupies the space where the sprawling block used to be. But moving from the inner suburbs to be here, it still feels so roomy – like all the possible space we have, works harder somehow.

There is still room for a covered entertainment area (an Aussie backyard must), a 3×3 garden shed and the obligatory hills-hoist.

The sides of the yard were pebbled by a previous owner rendering them mostly inhabitable and a trap for a curious toddler who grew to love popping said pebbles in his mouth. I never took a photo of the pebbled areas, possibly because I disliked them so much.

But a couple of months ago, after a protacted decision making process we decided to get rid of those pebbles and lay down some Sir Walter turf.

Now, thanks to almost compulsive attention from Mr P (I call him the grass whisperer), the grass is thriving and our backyard seems bigger and friendlier with room for kids to kick a ball and roll in the lush grassiness while cold drinks are sipped in late afternoon shade.

There is still more to be done, a few more plants here and there and I dream of a stripey, french awning to protect us from some of the harsh, summer sun. But from where I sit, it’s pretty close to perfect.

STIHL is celebrating the Aussie Backyard this Australia Day in recognition that each and every backyard – from tiny courtyard or balcony, to 100 acre property represents the Australian way of life. Visit their page to check out the STIHL Backyard Heroes enjoying their backyard, and click over to like the Facebook page.

So, tell me about your backyard and what you love about it. What shenanigans you have planned for Australia Day this week? (there could even be a STIHL cap in it for you or the grass whisperer in your life!)

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Post tags: backyard, home improvement, STIHL backyard heroes

I had just started a post against the wall of sound of wailing toddler, lamenting everything that was hard right now. I am tired, the boy is tantruming and waking at night shaken, my attempts to toilet train have thus far proved ineffective and baby number two will be here in just over 10 weeks.

But then my computer miraculously rebooted and I lost that post. The boy is now sitting here on my lap watching television quietly and my morning too feels like its received a reboot.

The feeling remains though. I sometimes feel like I suck at this parenting gig. And maybe that’s worth sharing.

I know I’m not a bad parent. I love my son, I do everything within my power to keep him safe, show him my love, feed him, clothe him, play with him. Why do I feel that this effort isn’t enough sometimes?

It all doesn’t really come naturally to me. I can’t just shrug off a tantrum or night waking as a developmental milestone, even though I try. I question why this is happening, what I can be doing to fix this, why I can’t just fix it all.

I don’t expect things to be easy. But some days I wish they were easier and I struggle against that feeling. I have so much to feel grateful for, why is it the hard things that remain at the top of my mind as I struggle through it? I’ve never been too good at hard things. They are things to hide from and avoid at all costs. Maybe this is my lesson here?

It’s important to me to be a positive influence on my son and my effort to stay positive sometimes takes every inch of my soul to muster. I don’t want to be one of those whinging mums who go on about all the hard things, but I’m definitely not one who wants to pretend that my son’s shit smells of roses and that in mothering I’ve found my true life calling.

My reality lies in the grey areas in between – sometimes there is light and sometimes there is dark. This is my truth. I just need to remind myself that there is no shame in admitting it.

Photo: Even the frozen yoghurt lid is telling me to smile! A shot of lightness amongst darkness.

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Post tags: Losing it, staying positive, sucky parenting, tantrums

My boy, your smile has such power and such joy. May you always believe in it and never be ashamed to let it light up someone’s life. As it does mine.

Linking up with Aussie Wordless Wednesday @ My Little Drummer Boys

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Post tags: courage to smile, joy, love, my boy with the crooked smile

Happy new year! Well it’s almost two weeks in already, but better late than never hey? Tardiness has become somewhat of a lifestyle here at Save Mum’s Sanity lately.

I’m blaming pregnancy and holiday mode mentality primarily, but with the onset of a new year comes a new resolve. Yes, you guessed it – resolution time.

In recent years I haven’t really done the resolution thing, preferring a casual review and reflect type thing: a few mental notes here, a scrawling in a notebook there.

But last year particularly I felt I’d lost my way somehow and this year I’ve decided to be more proactive in steering my life’s ship in the right direction.

So this will be my first in a series of new year resolution posts this month. Outlining a few of my big and small resolutions that all aim to get me back on track.

Resolution #1 is partaking in a new ritual of the Sunday night facial. This is a chance to take time out, relax and pamper myself in preparation for the week ahead.

Last night was my first facial of the year. I cleansed, I exfoliated and then retreated to my bedroom with a face masque applied and book in hand and I did what every nutty blogger would do and captured my attractive look with an Instagram pic.

It was blissful! This simple act helped me prepare for my return to work today and my skin feels so soft and smooth. This is just one of the small ways I intend on nurturing myself this year and I’m excited to share a few more in the next couple of weeks.

How do you aim to take care of yourself in 2012?

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Post tags: Me time, pampering, resolution 2012, sanity savers

A night off from cooking has always been an exciting treat around these parts. Friday night always seemed the most appropriate night, a week of work was done and the weekend stretched out in front of us glimmering of freedom and opportunity.

Since becoming parents, the occasional take away night has become something even more. With going out for dinner a very rare treat these days, takeaway nights have taken on a more important role. A time to kick back as a family, enjoy each other’s company and after tucking J into bed we’ll enjoy a movie or favourite television series on DVD. It doesn’t seem like much, but its a sufficient shift in routine to recharge the batteries.

So, when I was offered a ‘Family Night In’ pack a couple of weeks ago from Crust Pizza, to celebrate the launch of their kids meal range, I didn’t need to think very hard. The offered pizza voucher, DVD and pack of uno cards sounded just like a good night in for us. And I’ve never been one to turn down pizza!

The pack turned up on my doorstep in a Crust pizza box, and on reviewing the voucher I thought there might be a bit too much food for our little family of three,  so I decided to tee up our ‘night in’ over at a good friend’s house so we could all catch up, not worry about cooking and the three boys could all have a great time playing and sharing their pizzas.

Even better than a night in as a family is a night in with another family! With everyone stretched this time of year for time and energy, catching up around a pizza sounded like a great idea.

The kids splashed in the blowup pool and then as early dinner time beckoned we started to review the Crust menu.

The menu was extensive and everything sounded delicious. We opted for the Moroccan Lamb and Sausage Duo ‘Upper Crust’ Pizzas and the Ham & Pineapple and Chicken & Pineapple pizzas for the kids. Each ‘Kids Meal’ pizza is accompanied by a ‘Whole Kids’ Organic Apple Juice. We also ordered Rocket Leaf & Parmesan salad and for dessert sampled the Tiramisu and Chocolate Mousse.

The men-folk went down the road to collect the pizza and were soon back with the boxes of yumminess.

The kids were soon very excited to be tucking into their own pizzas and the juice was a big hit too.

Our pizzas looked delectable.

And the salad made me feel like I was actually being pretty healthy!

A great night really was had by all.

And even better is that I’m offering you lovely readers a chance to have a great night in as well. Courtesy of Crust Pizza, you’ll receive the same family night in pack that we all enjoyed.

The pack features a Family Night In voucher from Crust entitling you to 2 x Crust Kids Meals, 2 x Upper Crust Pizzas, salad, 1.25L drink and 4 x desserts of your choice. For after your meal there is a DVD and a pack of Uno cards to enjoy. Pack is valued at around $120. To find your nearest Crust store, click here.

For a chance to win, just follow me on facebook (if you’re not already) and tell me in the comments below about your ultimate night in in 25 words or less.

Most creative answer will be judged the winner. Competition closes 5pm, Sunday December 18, 2011. Winner will be notified via email. Competition open to Australian residents only.

Hosted by Three Lil Princesses

© savemumsanity for Save Mum's Sanity, 2011. | Permalink | 14 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Crust Kids Meals, Crust pizza, night in, relaxing with friends

When we moved into our home almost a year ago, among the bits and bobs left to us by the previous owners, among the paint can of exterior colour, spare keys to the french doors and excess smoke alarms, was a pack of unopened pregnancy oracle cards.

I often mused about why they were left to me – unused gift or a need sensed? I guess I’ll never know, but last week I remembered the gift and busted them out and they have so far provided a comfort to me as I connect with this little baby growing inside me.

With the boy asleep, I settled in for a three card reading and drew the cards above. They made sense to me on a variety of levels.

This year has been a testing time emotionally for me – for reasons I don’t quite understand or can explain easily. I’ve just felt off kilter, separated from my essense, sick in spirit. I’ve been hiding somewhere in the day to day necessities, cutting myself off from those special to me outside my immediate home zone.

So this one little line hit home and made me take a good look at how I’ve been doing things:

“Everything can be fun. See the light and joy in everything you do today.”

My light had felt extinguished and joy was something far too fleeting these days.

So, since the reading I’ve been embarking on a change. Instead of only tackling the essential day-to-day tasks, I stop and think how I can inject some fun into them. A shopping trip is accompanied by a milk shake with the boy. Hanging out the washing incorporates a peg game with my little helper and when watering the garden I leave time to let him splash around in his blow-up pool.

I’m trying to slow down, live in the moment instead of escaping it and use my time more effectively so there is some time for me to ‘just be’.

How about you? How do you inject joyfulness and fun into your day-to-day life?

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Post tags: finding joy, fun, pregnancy oracle cards, slowing down

The way a woman chooses to give birth is in today’s society a hotly discussed topic. It seems it’s now a no holds barred conversation piece, with even strangers unafraid to ask ‘natural or caesar?’ ‘drugs or no drugs?’ ‘public or private?’ in the name of small talk.

It’s a good thing that birthing has been brought out of the closest, so to speak, but these discussions have now lead to simplistic conclusions related to the mother’s choice or circumstance of the birth and with them latent judgements.

You’ve had an elective caesarean? You must be ‘too posh to push’. Vaginal birth, but with an epidural? Well, that’s cheating. Emergency caesarean? Must have been caused by the ‘cascade of intervention’ in a hospital environment. Vaginal birth, no drugs? Well, you must just be plain crazy.

With my first pregnancy, I elected to go public and entered the ballot for birth centre care at the Royal Brisbane Women Hospital, Brisbane. With demand outstripping places available, it really is a like entering a raffle. So I honestly felt like I’d won the lotto when I found out I got in at the 16 week mark.

The RBWH Birth Centre is the only place in Brisbane where you can labour and birth in water if you so choose. It’s a midwife led model of care for low risk women who desire a natural drug-free birth in a homely environment but with full medical care close at hand.

I got met with my mixed bag of ‘are you crazy?’ type reactions as well as positive encouragement when I told people about my choice to try for a drug-free birth. But as I started attending my appointments and meeting my team of three midwives I felt confident that however my birth went down, that I was where I needed to be and was receiving the best possible care for me.

And that’s just it, we’re all different. What’s feels right for me, won’t feel right for the next woman.

As it turned out my birth didn’t go entirely to plan, and I was transferred up to Birth Suite for some fluids and a syntocin drip to speed things along.

With my known midwife by my side, I didn’t hesitate when she gently suggested transferring and despite a few dramas along the way, including an almost emergency caesarean when it was thought my baby was in distress, I managed to push by 8lb, 13 oz baby boy out without pain relief drugs.

My answers to some of the ‘probing post labour’ enquiries seemed to illicit strong views on either side of the fence ‘why did they let you labour so long?’ asked some, others seemed concerned with the interventions I agreed to and expressed disappointment that I had to transfer.

Suddenly my labour, which I was happy with, had been incorrectly interpreted by people who weren’t even there. Sure it was long, sure there were a few decisions to be made along the way and a few scary moments but it was my journey and I was proud.

So with that in mind, I didn’t hesitate to put my name down for birth centre care again this time around and am very happy to report I got in!

As my midwife said last week at my first appointment, the labour process is not just one day – it’s the support you receive along the way and after the event that’s the most important.

And how each woman wishes to be supported is such an individual consideration. So let’s support other women in their birth choices and leave the judgement behind  – and that goes for the self-judgement too. Labour doesn’t always go to plan and not everyone’s plans need to be the same. Whatever gets you through, I say!

What choices did you make for your births? Did you ever feel judged for your choice?

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Post tags: birth centre care, birth choices, RBWH birth centre