m i a o w

–YOU KNOW YOU KNEAD IT–

Category: Pikelet (Page 1 of 19)

Hello, Pikelet!

It’s not that I’ve been putting off posting this, it’s just that I wanted to do it right. And doing it ‘right’ takes time. Time? I don’t actually have any, so I’ll just post it anyway. I am almost 15 weeks PREGNANT. Wow. It feels kind of odd to even type it! Meet the Pikelet…

Thumbsucker

I feel some people out there slowly shaking their heads. How could someone so sleep deprived, whose life has taken on a completely different and barely socialising shape over the past two years actually choose to do it all again? Erm…he slipped? Sorry. No. A few reasons. One being that if we were going to create new spawn, now is the time to do it. We are living in suburban bliss near the beach, I continue to work my sucky job with a good hourly rate two days a week and M is available for mental health days as required.

In a few years time we don’t know where we will be, and this is a GREAT feeling! But I would rather be toting around a two year old than a newborn at that time. For some reason after about six months or so, Small Z didn’t feel like she was going to be an only child. There was something missing. The other thing is, OMG – I know SO much more this time around. I worked so hard, SO HARD to get a few chapters of the ‘Having a Baby’ manual worked out that all that knowledge would be lost if I didn’t get to try and actually USE it again.

The other thing is, if I actually made it out of the sleep deprived haze I continue to live in (and this is not due to much to Small Z, who is now slumbering better than I had ever dared hope even a month ago, but due to my weirdarse pregnant insomnia) I doubt I would be able to go back. No really. If I got a taste of my former sleep filled existence, it would be waaaay too tempting to remain there.

And, just one more thing, during the ultrasound Pikelet had to be CONVINCED TO WAKE UP. I had to be sent to the loo and made to cough, and cough again. Small Z’s ultrasound was all waving and kicking and dancing to the beat. This one’s going to be a sleeper. I just know it.

It won’t be at home

At 7am yesterday morning I eased my way out of bed into my clothes, washed my face, buttered two hot-cross-buns and was gathering a few essentials when I heard Small Z wake and cry plaintively, “Where’s mama? Where’s mama gone?” She would not be consoled, and in the end it was easier to put in her in the car with me.

I was going to an 8am appointment to meet my prospective midwife. Small Z was told that if she came along she had to stay quiet, because I needed to talk with Jane. Evilly, I expected the worst, but she was quite angelic. I don’t think I have mentioned this before, but when I found out about Pikelet I was determined to return to Casey Hospital where Small Z was born. Which left me horrified to find out that in the intervening couple of years, the ‘zoning boundaries’ for the hospital had changed and I was no longer in their ‘catchment area’.

This is despite the fact that I remained in the same postcode. I was supposed to drive 30min to Frankston Hospital rather than 20min to Casey. The length of the journey wasn’t really an issue, it’s just that I wanted to go back to the place that I was familiar with, I did NOT want to go to Frankston Hospital, which has no birth centre, and I wanted to participate in the home birth pilot project, which is going ahead at Casey.

I made it my mission to make sure I would be having Pikelet at Casey Hospital. I called many people, begged, harrassed and hissed. In the end it was my keeness to be involved in the home birth trial that swung it for me. Then we had to move house. Out of the area. AAAAAHHHHHhhhhh!! I tried to cover this eventuality by redirecting our mail for a year and not telling any relevant organisations that we had moved.

I hoped that I could just wing it. I am not sure how. But anyway, this morning Small Z and I met Jane, and asked her ‘if’ I moved house, would I still be able to have a home birth? (Because I had lied and said I had not moved yet, but might be moving soon…) She went and asked the right people. The right people said no. You can’t bugger around with a pilot program. So there you go. I gave in gracefully, particularly in light of the fact that now I’m ‘booked in’ there, that’s where Pikelet will be born. Waterbirth again. And that’s fine by me.

Jane was someone who I felt very comfortable with and she and Small Z got on well, which was a bonus. We listened to Pikelet’s heart and Small Z got to hold the doppler thing, and then, because she was so interested, we listened to her heart too. We drew the line when she wanted to use it to listen to (her toy train) James’s boiler. But you get the idea. We discussed what I wanted, which is basically the same as last time, and I met a few other members of the team there – if Jane is hit by a meteor, or has just attended a 12 hour labour, she won’t be able to be with me and I’ll have one of the others from the group – there’s five of them.

And finally a little teary moment where we met Colleen, one of the midwives who was there when Small Z was born. I was so excited, squeaking “Zoe! Zoe!! This is Colleen who saw you born!!” She was lovely and said Small Z was beautiful and was very happy that we were coming back. I was in such a state of post-birthing shock the last time I saw her, it was so odd and uplifting to see her again.

So Jane and I both mourned the loss of the homebirth option. I could still pursue it and go private – but it costs money that we don’t really have. Although I love the idea, because I had a good experience at the birth centre last time, I’m happy to return there. It’s just that I wanted Pikelet to be born and then just be able to be. Just BE. Be at home, in my own bed, with nowhere to go, no one to bother me, no one to tell me to wake the baby and feed it. But anyway, with experience comes knowledge, and I’ll be able to use what I learnt last time around.

Smalls

One lovely thing about the impending Pikelet is going op-shopping with Small Z. If I offer her a choice between the playground or the op-shop, she inevitably chooses the latter. Yesterday we went to one we hadn’t been to before, and it was having a sale. We began looking at tiny newborn clothes…

“Ohhhh,” cooed Small Z, “Sooooo cuuuute. Pikelet would like this one!”

I picked up tiny mittens, remembering when she was born that we didn’t know about such things until we had to buy some from the reception at the birth centre when she began scratching her face. She jams them on to her hands, digs through another basket, coming up with a hat…

“Pikelet would be really happy of this one,” she said, putting into our pile.

I showed her a tiny onesie.

“A little suit mama!!” she squeaked. “Tiny for Pikelet!!”

We found some socks, another suit and a tiny kimono snap long sleeved top. I have vivid memories of having drawers full of tiny 000 sized clothes and finding that all of them were too big and/or too fiddly for our tiny baby. So now I’m looking for 0000 sized clothes, none of which have to be pulled over a little head. It’s SO nice to have some hindsight!

Shopping for smalls
Socks and hat

Limp

I try and not be too much of a sooker. But last night the numbed out pain in my left calf (radiating to the arch of the foot and toes with associated paraesthesia – yep, that was a work sentence) got on top of me and I had a lovely big cry. Cleansing. And then spent the best part of an hour trying to get comfortable in bed, while Small Z slumbered a foot away, oblivious.

In the end I couldn’t find the position, although I briefly had a window where circulation came back to my leg and my left foot (should that be My Left Foot?) got warm. Deliciously. Anyway, I just tried to think of anything besides the ache in my left hip/butt cheek and watched three episodes of 30Rock – bringing me to the end of my fourth season episodes (have to check with my dealer…maybe there are more?!) and was so weary that I passed out until 4am.

This morning I acted against my previously espoused wisdom and attended a chiropractor. I’ve always been more of an osteopath person, but this chiro specialises in kids and pregnant people…and is two minutes drive away. The good news is that it is not, contrary to my GID (google inspired diagnosis) sciatica. Woo!

So what is it? Hips and pelvic bones out of alignment and squishing some nerves, which is why my left leg is numb, painful and my foot is icy. I got poked, prodded, and ice packed for 20 minutes out the back under a big soft blanket. Then I stood on a hydraulic massage table thing and it gently made me horizontal and I got poked a bit more. (There was a gap for Pikelet in it, thankfully…)

It was the prodding of my left calf that was the hardest to take – but both times I got down from the table it was obviously easier to walk. I was instructed to spend as much time as I could lying on my side on a firm surface with a pillow between my knees and my hips aligned, to take the pressure of the nerve/s. And to buy an icepack to try and bring down the inflammation.

M has been cast in the role of carer, which he is doing with perfection. Apparently it thrills him to see me forcibly relaxing. And me? I am a convert to this particular chiropractor, particularly after she said I could call her out of hours on Friday or Saturday if things got worse. It’s good to have a fallback… Meanwhile, it’s great to know what the actual problem is, and I can alleviate it fairly well by lying on my side in the required position. Once this thing improves? There will be ongoing maintenance…

Pack Ice….

Pack Ice.

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