I haven't done it for ages, partly because I haven't been able to properly write for a few years now but also, I'm no longer breastfeeding. Times have moved on, the girls are older but their basic needs and wants havent changed. I just can't fix everything so easily with my amazing boobs!!
Meltdowns are pretty much a normal every day occurrence now with 3 kids, a busy life and not everyone's needs and wants always being met. With eldest's diagnosis of Aspergers those earlier meltdowns make much more sense and I am thankful for reading The Continuum Concept by Jean Leidloff as my starter book for understanding my baby's needs and wants. 
Breastfeeding: After almost 4500 days of constant (often hourly and sometimes continuously for hours) breastfeeding, my boobs are now mine again. I'm quite happy for my hubby to enjoy them again too!! 𝩀 I don't feel like my boobs have had enough touching, sucking, pawing and exposing or if you even look at my boobs Mr Hubby, you'll be for it. They did feel like that sometimes, especially when I was tandem feeding. 
I have to say though I'm not too sure with having a radical since it has such a negative connotation these days. With the actual definition of radical though, I'm happy with that. 
This increased awareness and knowledge is all well and good but right now, to me, it just feels like a huge dump of information at a time when my child is at her most vulnerable and a lot of jumping on the bandwagon. It's such a difficult situation to explain without sounding homophobic or unacceptable or in the wrong, its a minefield.
I really feel Ellie has been massively influenced by it all as she entered high school but I don't know how to speak about it without sounding wrong. I need to be clear that I have no issues with whatever my kids eventually identifies as, I'm just saying I find it all so intense and as an up and coming female ASD teenager, I can see how easily influenced she can be and how the need to be accepted is paramount.
She had absolutely no awareness or interest in anything to do with gender or sexuality or relationships prior to high school, she never talked about any of it, never indicated any preference or anything like that and now she hardly talks of anything else unless it's gender or sexuality related. I feel she has suddenly been bombarded with it at school and because its a marginalised society and because she is on the spectrum, and so very easily influenced by her peers, this group feels accepting of her differences as an ASD teenager since they are all kind of struggling with feeling 'different' too. They are more tolerant of her idiosyncrasies.
As it is, they are getting to that age where acceptance and tolerance over anything, not just gender and sexuality, are the most difficult.
Maybe I'm worrying over nothing, maybe there should be a term for us parents who experiences this entirely new situation. I am delighted she has finally found a group of accepting and kind friends. I do know it's all going to be OK whatever she eventually decides and we will support her all the way.
It's just so full on and she told me she only went over to the stand because of the colourful rainbow flag.
How could I be so insensitive and selfish and greedy and self-absorbed and stupid and crazy and delusional and ungrateful?
I sometimes feel people are thinking these thing's or variations of these when they see me with three kids already but wanting another baby. All part of sentences some people say and things I have heard. Insensitive to those who can't, should be grateful for what I have, selfish for wanting to add to population, crazy for wanting another. I feel guilty for wanting and terrible for obsessing, I feel desperate and scared, I feel useless and over needed, I feel aimless and stuck. I'm overwhelmed with all of it and it's constantly changing. I feel all over wrong for everything.
Now what?
1.1.19
Even though I'm not thinking about it. Even though I'm working on not obsessing on it. Even though I know my period ended a few days ago and even though I'm not counting or working things out and even though I know my 24-48 hour window of fertility is coming up very soon and even though I am not peeing on the ovulation stick every morning, night and a few of the hours in between and even though I am trying not to let my anxiety take over and even though I'm trying to reduce my stress levels and even though I am not looking at my fertility app two or three times a day and even though I know it says I will ovulate tomorrow and even though I am not not not obsessing and focusing all my nervous energy on consciously conceiving and even though none of this is happening and I'm not doing any of it and even though I know that my due date this time around might be my mums bday not because I look at the due date calculator web page every other day.
Even though I know and don't know any of this, I don't and I'm not because I'm not letting it take over my thoughts or life or anything that ridiculous.
#notdoingthat
#notthinkingaboutit
#notobsessing
#honest
The wail was primal, it was from somewhere else. I could feel it but I couldn't hear it, it was coming from me. I had just been told my baby, my newborn, not yet a week old baby had to go back to hospital again as her jaundice levels had shot up. We had only just returned home and were settling cosily back to home life. Let me start at the beginning.
Natural, earth-mother, secure, safe and home, these were the thoughts I had for my birth and my baby. Due on the 21st December, we had a whole month to organise the house, to 'nest' and to be completely satisfied that our home was going to be the best environment to bring our baby into this world. But of course nature works its wondrous ways and decided that our baby was arriving sooner. Barry & I had had a house warming party the night before, the house was looking amazing, it was cosy, it was comforting, it was warmed by all our family and friends, who joked about how big I was and how earth mother I looked and how ready to drop, till well after midnight.
We did a quick tidy up and went to bed at 3am, feeling happy and contented that we had hosted a wonderful and fun house warming party. In actual fact it turned out to be a baby warming party…the next morning at 10am, I woke up and 'woooosh' my waters broke, I stood up and was still leaking. Not believing that I could have wet myself, I woke Barry and told him. He seemed quite calm about it and said shall we phone the hospital – his stock response for the past few months to any ache or twinge! I, of course, took myself off to the toilet, still quite calm and not quite sure if this was happening. Next came the mucous plug... with slight tinges of blood, nothing worrying there either. This all seemed a bit textbook to me, I know the plug can go and there can be delays, I know the waters can break and still nothing can happen. But for waters first, then plug... next would be contractions I thought... wouldn't that be hilarious!! Wouldn't that be real? But I was only 36+3, I wasn't ready, the house wasn't ready, the pool wasn't ready. If it hadn't been for me pushing to get various things over the past few months, we would have had nothing.
I telephoned my sister (who was a midwife) and told her what had happened, for the next hour or so, I tried to explain what was happening, the consistency of mucus, the amount of blood, the amount of leakage. She asked me if I was having any pain. Pain? I thought as in back pain or ... oh hang on what was that... that felt tight across the bottom of my belly. I shall call these tightenings, not contractions, they can't be contractions, it just feels a bit tight.
I checked the baby's heartbeat and my temperature and my heartbeat in case of infection. This I did hourly from about 11am till 6pm. All was within normal ranges. I charted my 'tightenings' which were every 5-10mins for maximum a minute at a time. All the while I was talking to my sister on the phone letting her know the readings and confirming that things were still ok. By now it was pretty clear that this was not false labour and Barry had taken himself off to B&Q to sort out the pipes for the birth pool and Mothercare to get a floating temp gauge. He managed to take a wrong turn on the way home and ended up on the motorway to London. He was most upset and ended up over an hour late coming back.
I meanwhile was permanently ensconced on our porta-potti as the baby was permanently ensconced on my bladder. That porta-potti turned out to be best thing we got for this labour. Every time I tried to move about I need to pee! It was so frustrating... .all my pre-natal yoga moves and aqua-natal practice was going to waste, I couldn't be in any other position except sat on the potti slumped forward on a big cushion propped on a chair!! But boy was I pleased I didn't have to traipse upstairs. In between peeing and 'tightenings', I fashioned myself a wee nest in the living room beside the heater with cushions and towels. I had a gathering of candles, light boxes and oil burners, which I had been collecting over the past weeks, and I laid them out in the back room where the pool was going to be. The pool which was still deflated, still empty but had at least been taken out its box (it needs to 'breathe' for 2hours before use, something we thankfully found out the week before).
During this time, I began calling my tightenings by their full and proper title. Contractions. When did that happen? Barry noticed it first and pointed it out to me. This was it I thought this is real. The pool was inflating and Barry was fixing taps onto hoses and hoses onto walls and I was still on my potti!
By 6pm, the pool was filling and things seemed to be going smoothly. Barry and I were timing contractions, which by now were longer and stronger. I called the hospital and told them I was in labour and they needed to send someone out. They tried to persuade me to come in to the hospital (because it was before 37 weeks), but I stood my ground and they said they would get back to me. How good of them, I thought!
Then disaster... .Barry forgot to turn off the tap in the pool and had it been running cold water for ages. The pool was almost half full, of cold water. This is when I began to panic, become upset and think this is not going to happen, whilst writhing on my 'nest'. This is when Barry started to panic inwardly, frantically empty the pool bucket by bucket and boil the kettle. All the while telling me things will be perfect, it's not a problem and he can fix it. And fix it he did. Phoning our best friend, who went to the supermarket and bought 4 kettles, he set to work boiling kettles and pots in order to refill the pool, whilst trying to be with me and help me through my contractions.
At 9pm the doorbell went and in walked the midwives. They said their obligatory 'we think you should go to the hospital' speech and, realising it wasn't going to happen, settled in for the duration.
(Note from Angela at Home Birth UK: Miriam's sister reports that Miriam actually responded "Thanks for your opinion; you will find me at home", which I think is an excellent way of dealing with the situation! The same midwife later told Miriam "You are too early in gestation for a waterbirth", to which she responded "Thanks for your opinion; you will find me in the pool".)
I obtained timings and figures later from my midwife as during the rest of the evening, I lost all concept of time and space. I was checked at 9.20pm and found to be 3cm dilated, cervix almost effaced and V+ 0-1.
For the next hour, I remained on my 'nest' and was mainly on my hands and knees, grasping Barry's hand and making incredible noises. I found that if I made moaning and groaning noises it helped the pain, so I did this for all I was worth. There was no high pitched screaming, just low guttural moaning, grunting and baying noises.
The pool was finally ready for me at 10.30pm and I was straight in there. Being the organised person I am, I had the previous day, sorted out what music I wanted for my labour. I opted for the drum and rain music and with my glowing light boxes and candles, the room was amazingly peaceful. I for one was not!!!!
This stage was the hardest, I was told not to push and it would increase my risk of tearing and so I had to blow out my contractions instead of pushing. Barry was incredible at this point and almost fainted himself with panting!! Every time I said I can't do this he was there saying I can. Every time I needed him to give me strength he was right there passing it to me.
At 00.30am I had strong rectal pressure and the midwives asked me to come out as I had been in the pool for two hours. They checked me and found I was fully dilated, V+0+1. They tried to ask me to stay out of the water as they were not comfortable with me giving birth in the water, saying don't you care about your baby, I politely declined, called her mean and 'ran' straight back in to the pool!!
I asked how long this next stage was going to be and when she told me it could be an hour I thought NOOOOoo way. So very soon after I felt a slight bulge and excitedly guided Barry's hand to touch it. He was astounded, I was astounded. It was amazing.
Then at 1.05am with one almighty push, the widest eyes I have ever made with the most astonished feeling I have ever felt, Ellie Rebecca slipped gently into the water. I remember seeing her in the water and my mind stopped. Everything literally stopped. For that split moment, nothing mattered, nothing moved, time was immobile. I gently scooped her up and cradled her in my arms. I blew gently into her face, she raised her eyebrows at me and gasped her first ever breath. In that moment Barry and I gasped our first ever breath too. I was so overawed I didn't even think to find out if she was a boy or girl. She lay peacefully in my arms until the cord stopped pulsating and was clamped by daddy Barry as he has now become.
I came out of the pool and thankfully delivered my placenta by 1.18am with no fuss whatsoever, the midwife gently pulled and out it came. Ellie weighed 6lb 11oz and had Apgar scores of 9/1 and 10/5. I had estimated blood loss 250ml, no tears.
Our first night in our own bed with Ellie Rebecca in between us was magical. We just could not believe what we had created.
Unfortunately, being early, Ellie had trouble feeding and became jaundiced, and we had to go to hospital the following day and we then spent the next week and half in and out of hospital with her having light treatment. As is the way in my life, it was one extreme to the other. All that I hoped and wished for with her birth was now the complete opposite. She was in a hospital environment, she was having blood taken, she had to feed every three hours because of the fear of dehydration and the all important skin to skin contact was drastically reduced. We were taken care of wonderfully in the hospital and we made the best of it was we could, letting Ellie know we were there for her all the way. Soon she was allowed home and the fun of babies begins
How ironic that on my birthday I will be spending the day with the woman who gave birth to me as she goes to an appointment that will likely tell us that pretty soon she won't remember who I am.
This woman who gave birth to me, who will definitely not remember she has the appointment or that it's my birthday or that it's such a significant day for all of us.
This woman who is slowly forgetting, slowly declining, slowly disappearing into herself.
This woman who is becoming more tactile and grateful for my presence and who will soon forget all her criticising and her Jewish Mother guilt.
This woman who I've attributed most of my neurosis to and my naturally smooth skin and whose relationship with myself I've analyzed extensively and who has provided my blog with many a crazy story.
This woman who made me this strong, determined, neurotic, anxious, wild and fun woman.
This woman. This mother. This woman. My mother, My mum.
💜 Happy Birthing Day Mum 💜
Platitudes platitudes. There really is very little to say. If you can't think of anything. Say that. Don't platitudes.
Don't say.
You can have another one. I know that. I want the little girl I had. Don't you see the difference? You can have another one. I know that. But do I? No one knows that. What if I can't.
You can have another one. Maybe, but I'm in pain now.
Right now is what matters. Its a platitude, it's insensitive and it doesn't work.
Don't say.
At least you have your other three. Yes but I wanted *her* to be my 4th. She was wanted. I meant be thankful for your other three. Are you implying I ought to be satisfied with what I have? That I am not already thankful for them and love them?
I meant they must be keeping you busy. I don't want to be busy. I'm always busy. I want to switch off for a while.
Don't say.
Cheer up why don't you smile. Why don't you fuck off. I'm not in the mood for smiling. Of course I feel depressed. Do you know what's just happened? Don't be insensitive. Don't be ignorant . It's not my job right now to ease your awkwardness.
Don't say.
How are you? Unless you really want the answer. Because I will tell you. Even though I have no proper words to describe how awful I feel, if you ask I won't say fine. Be prepared for a raw answer.
My raw self can't handle platitudes. My raw self feels everything. My raw self reacts massively.
Don't say anything.
If you don't know what to say. Just let me know you're here for me and you are sorry for my loss. A hug usually helps too.
Meltdowns - sooooo many
Losing the Plot - just the will to get out of bed
Breastfeeding - too tired and forgot that's 2 nights in a row
We've been watching family films a lot this weekend. I've been trying to keep us close as a family in the evenings just before bed instead of our separate screens.
I went through Netflix and added a number of 80's films that were classics and I remembered enjoying and thought the kids would like them too.
The first one we watched was Look Who's Talking. I remembered there was a kid talking to himself (we could hear it as audience) and that it was quite funny and probably what swayed me then and now, was that it had Bruce Willis's voice in it.
First off, I forgot about the whole conception scene at the beginning, the animated talking sperm and egg scene and then I forgot about there being scenes of an animated fetus from inside the mothers belly. Honest to G-d I pretty much forgot the entire first part of the film consisted of mostly pregnancy and fetusbaby and birth related stuff.
I almost freaked the fuck out and panicked that the kids were going to be really upset about seeing it. They didn't seem to be and I stifled the way my heart jumped into my mouth when the fetusbaby started thinking and talking. Completely forgot about that part too. *sigh*
Aside from that, the rest of the film was sweet and funny in places and terribly outdated in others. And yes I did shout at the TV during some of the birth scenes and yes my hubby did shout at the TV for them going back and forward to baby's room instead of cosleeping.
I watched Fools Rush In - didn't know there was a miscarriage scene (which actually turned out not to be) which caught me by surprise, made me cry and had me cursing my stupid choice of films this weekend.
We then watched as a family, Look Who's Talking too because the kids enjoyed the first one. The beginning was similar but I was more prepared and anyway it was mostly missed because Millie was insisting there were two babies and was becoming upset with me for saying there was only one. It was that becoming upset way I recognised as the...about to explode and NEVER recover..kind of upset. I negotiated my way out of that meltdown like a pro.
The next one I watched alone was Philomena but what I thought was going to be a quirky slow film about two mismatched sad people turned out to be the true story of this tragic tale of woe about the practice of the Catholic church in Ireland at the time, forcing unwed mothers in their care to give up their children for adoption. This particular mother had been looking for her son for 50 years but in the end he had died but it turned out he had wanted to be buried back in Ireland where he was born in case his mother ever came looking for him. Every time the mother had gone to the home to look for him, she had been fobbed off and told lies. He once went there from America, on his almost deathbed, and he was also told lies and that his mother wasn't looking for him. You know real high end never ending tragedy.
Netflix really does give ridiculous descriptions for the films and I often just go by name and the picture. I had a rough idea of the genre, family based or funny. But OMG they were crazy choices!!
It seems no matter what film I pick there is some reference or scene about miscarriage or pregnancy or those kinds of things. It's like some weird cruel coincidence joke that's not really that funny.
Meltdowns - a few
Losing the Plot - I don't have the energy to be shouty
Breastfeeding - she didn't ask tonight!
I went to EPAS (early pregnancy assessment suite) today. EPAS is where we went the day after Neshama was born. We took her and her placenta there to be looked over to make sure she was all intact and nothing was left inside me. I didn't take much in when we were there initially and she said it was clear I had been in shock.
I am thankful for this thoughtful caring midwife who took the time to sit and talk with me.
I needed to talk to the midwife who attended to me to clarify some things for me. I needed to hear from someone who last saw her. I needed to cry.
I just turned up and asked if she was a available and we sat in a private room and chatted for about an hour. She took the time to listen and answer all my questions and we chatted, about inane things and also about her stillbirth at 36 weeks and how things were so different back then. Losing a baby later on in pregnancy must be a billion times worse than this feeling, I don't know how I could recover from that.
I really just wanted to know how old she thought Neshama was and why there weren't any signs or why I didn't notice or feel the moment she passed. I knew she couldn't really answer the other questions but knowing her approximate age felt important. One of those math absolute number things. A quantifiable known.
I also needed some confirmation about how quickly things went wrong and that there wasn't anything I could have done. She said that If I had gone for any scans, they would have all shown a healthy growing baby and somehow I think it would have been even worse to go from the excitement of passing the so called worrisome stage to losing her after. It would also have been even worse to have known she had passed and then have to wait for her to be born, not knowing for sure or knowing it could happen at any time but not knowing when. Too many unknowns.
We talked about what will happen if we try again. If there is anything different I need to do. Am I too old now? She said there were more 'older' mothers nowadays. She said I would more than likely be very worried and I can come and be scanned early or be seen at any time. Do I want that though? What if it happens again, I just can't imagine wanting to know early on with the having to wait around in the agonising limbo phase.
She gave me a pregnancy test to take at the 3 week mark to check my hormone levels and that everything has completely passed.
I don't know if I can bring myself to do it. There is really something desperately tragic about taking a pregnancy test to check I am completely empty.
I keep wondering if there is bleeding quotient, like they say you usually bleed for 6 weeks lochia for full term so is it 40 divided by 6, which is about 6.6 but is that days or what and then I don't know how to convert that to the relative weeks. I want a smart clever little formula.
Then I realise that all women are different and experience physical things differently. It's probably not possible to quantify that kind of physiological response. Most information sites say anything from few days to few weeks but a lot of forums with posts from real people talk about bleeding still after 6 weeks.
I'm not worried about my bleeding as it has been tailing off and only coming back if I exert. The clots are now small and the pain is usually minimal.
I just want it to be a tangible exact quantifiable known. I have this need for something solid and undeniable. It's as if having this handy mathematical way of working it out means something makes real sense. Quantifiable sense. I am useless with numbers and hate maths but I know it's absolute. I know certain formulas are always one way. Pi is always Pi. Speed is always distance over time. Bleeding will last x amount of time.
Instead it's all just full of unknowns and smattered with possibles and maybe. Its hard to find something to hold me down.
I'm always all about feelings and emotions and I don't understand why I'm suddenly desperate for a math sum! It's weird.
Meltdowns - mainly due to physical pains
Losing the Plot - not so much
Breastfeeding - one thumb for right two thumbs for left...just a little morning and in the night
Space between the moments.
That's what I dread. Those moments when I'm not busy being busy or when I'm not needed for anything. That's when the fragmented moments of time have a chance to settle in my mind. The unsettling ones that remind me of the shock and disbelief of that night. The ones that take me straight to that shattering sinking moment when all hope had gone.
We've been away for 3 nights. A Camping Wedding!! We weren't sure if it was a good idea to go or not. It was a long journey, we were both still in shock and it seemed like a huge effort but I was so looking forward to seeing my friend get married after all her adversity. I also knew it would be such a fun and lovely wedding and it would do us good to be living communally amongst friends. The tent was already set up for us, which was a huge load off. We also, thankfully had real beds not mats on the ground. There were 4 or 5 other families, loads of kids and some of the couples family.
The couple are the most laid back, beautiful, wonderful, fun family ever. The whole wedding was just super. And, it was entirely a field!! It was so hard to leave. I don't want to return to real life.
It was really satisfying watching the kids all playing out in nature (despite the occasional upset). It was also just great having my friends around me. Friends who knew, that even though I was loudly and enthusiastically introducing myself to others (but not fully present during chatty times)and even though I was busily organising various things (but not wanting to deal with kid conflict issues or not handling it when things went slightly awry) and even though I was dancing like a whirling dervish at the evening party (knowing it would set off my bleeding again but not caring because..dancing), they knew, that there was still that space between the moments.
