Yesterday was Mother’s Day and once I had gotten both babies to sleep I opted to try and catch a few extra zzzzs rather than write this post (it didn’t work by the way, I am eternally short on zzzzs). So here is my big shout out to all the mummies, albeit a day late. Mums rock.
Pleasantries aside, let me tell you about my Mother’s Day.
It all started with a crying baby. Nothing unusual there. I dragged myself out of bed to nurse H. She went back to sleep so I fell back into bed. Cue T waking up. Wonderful husband hops up to get T out of bed and leaves me to try and get some more of those elusive zzzzs. So far so good, I like the way this Mother’s Day is starting.
H doesn’t sleep for too long before she is up and ready to start the day, but that is ok. Both the big boys are on the computer playing Minecraft. They say happy Mother’s Day to me without taking their eyes from the computer screen. Again, nothing unusual there. We have a couple of Minecraft addicts. K especially.
Anywhoo, D is giving T his breakfast so I make a coffee and go to join them. I get plenty of MD love and cuddles from D, and from T I get a vegemite smear on my pyjamas. D disappears for a moment to I assume round up the boys to come and give me my gazillion presents but comes back alone and annoyed.
It seems that when tapped on the shoulder (he was wearing headphones), K slammed down the headphones, swung around all angry like with eyes glaring and says, ‘WHAT?!’ Then realising that he was going to get into some serious trouble followed it up with a hundred I’m sorrys and ran off to his room upset with himself for ruining Mother’s Day.
You see, In days gone by we have had many an issue with the boys regarding computer games. They get all consumed by them and can’t think about anything but. There have been plenty of games that we have banned and deleted when they got too wrapped up in them and were unable to function as normal human beings. They cannot handle the frustrations when they die/can’t get to the next level/lose and get angry and flip out.
We originally liked Minecraft because you it wasn’t competitive, you couldn’t die, there is no nudity or swearing and no blood and guts. You just walked around and built shit and planted trees and played with pigs. But over time they have founds ways to make it a drama for our household. Now they play Minecraft survival games on servers and watch Minecraft videos on YouTube and read forums. We have again found ourselves dealing with banging mouses and kicking the back of the computer desks and little eyes that well up with tears of pre-pubescent angst.
Yesterday morning was like that, except K knows that we are on the verge of pulling the Minecraft pin and seriously his world would IMPLODE so he is trying to be super happy and calm to trick us into thinking that he is coping well. However sometimes (like yesterday) he blows that cool facade which in turn makes Mumma Bear mad.
I found him upset in his room beating himself up for ruining my day, which of course he didn’t. We had a little heart to heart and have put a halt on playing on the servers and gave him a massive warning that he’s on his last Minecraft chance. I left him to contemplate his actions and a little while later he emerges from his room with a letter…
Fucking priceless. I love that kid!
D and the boys then presented me with my present. I am now the proud owner of an ALDI coffee machine and it, even though it is not a big ticket machine it makes a damn good cuppa. Everyone I know that has one loves it and I was jealous of them. I feel all posh and shit when I make my morning coffee now.
Aside from a coffee machine I told D what I really wanted for Mother’s Day was to have a family photo take with us ALL in it. Grudgingly he agreed, so in the afternoon when all the mums in my family came over for an afternoon tea, I had my brother take a few photos of us in the back yard. It wasn’t easy, but after a whole heap of photos with at least one of the boys pulling a stupid face we finally got a half decent photo of our family.
We had a lovely afternoon tea with my Mum, my mother-in-law, my brother and sister-in-law and their baby. Of course it was loud and crazy and messy, but the best times often are and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Well maybe it would be super unicorn awesome if cleaning fairies came but we all know that they do not exist. The only cleaning fairies I know are mums. Happy (late) Mother’s Day!
I have had both. I’ve had 2 emergency c-sections and an elective. I now consider myself to be an expert in all things caesarean. I haven’t actually had any real medical training but I’m on a first name basis with Dr Google and I think that is just as good. Go ahead, you can ask me anything. In fact, I think I could even perform a caesarean because I took this tutorial.
Here are my comparisons between T’s section and H’s.
1. The lead up.
As you all know, T’s birth was an attempted VBAC, so the lead up to his birth was one of anticipation. Will I go overdue? Will I be on time? Will he come out of my VJJ? Will I tear from asshole to belly button? Or will it be magical and will everyone sing Kum Ba Yah when he slides out of my front bottom and takes his first breath?
K was 10 days overdue and as the days ticked past T’s due date I started to get impatient. In the end he came on the 5th day past, but that is one of the things that going for a vaginal birth is all about. Suspense. The unknown. You don’t know when it is going to happen.
But the lead up to an emergency section is more than waiting for your waters to break with baited breath or your contractions to start. Oh yes, that’s right, before you get cut open you have to endure hours upon hours of excruciating labour hell before it is decided for whatever reason you need to get the baby out ASAP. So how is that for a roller coaster ride of a lead up? Waiting, excitement, torture, surgery. Not my ideal way to spend a Sunday.
Now, on the other, the lead up to an elective c-section goes like this -
Dr: Your baby will be born on this day.
Dr: Here are your instructions. Do this, wash that. Be here at this time – zingity bing, it’s a 2 hour turn around!
Me: I love you.
Yes, as ‘the day’ approaches you are still filled with anticipation. Yes, it is still exciting. But you can (if you are able to) get a full night sleep and be as fresh as the daisies on your operation day. You can wear make-up even if you are not supposed to – just try to make it look natural so they don’t know, but you still look decent in the photos (no blue eye shadow please).
Best part about the lead up to an elective is that it doesn’t hurt.
2. The operation.
There was not a great deal of difference between the two operations. The main thing to note however was how much more laid back the elective was. Everyone was happy and smiling and we had cool music playing throughout. Hazel’s birth song is Boys Don’t Cry, by The Cure. I had already met my surgeons and my anaesthetist earlier that morning so they were familiar to me which was comforting in a scary situation. Doesn’t matter how much ‘better’ you pitch an elective it is still scary shit.
The administering of the epi/spinal was a big difference. With my emergencies I was given an epi during my labours so, as I mentioned during my birth story, these all just happened in between contractions without too much thought process. Getting the needle in the spine while alert, conscious and not on a multitude of drugs was pretty darn freaky, although truth be told, it didn’t really hurt as they do numb the area first.
I was warned that my 3rd section might take noticeably longer as they have to cut through more scar tissue but I honestly don’t think it did. It actually seemed quicker. This might have had something to do with the fact that T’s head was stuck in my pelvis and it took two surgeons a long time and a lot of pulling and pushing to free his boof head. This may well be another thing to consider when comparing the two c-sections – the further the head goes down into your vagiburger, the longer it will take to get out. That being said, H’s head was also pretty engaged and she required forceps.
The shakes. Got them something horrendous after T was born, and for freaking ages afterwards. Only got the shakes a little right after H was born and then only while they were stitching me back up, they were gone by the time we went to recovery. Why was this? NFI.
The itches. Got them something horrendous after all 3 c-sections, so no difference there and also no surprise considering I’m generally a pretty itchy person. I get itchy eyes, nose, throat, skin, ears on a daily basis and live on antihistamines. I was expecting this side effect.
In regards to the how H and I were treated following the birth I really cannot fault my hospital. I have read about how mothers and babies are separated after caesareans in other parts of the world and I was worried about how that part was going to go down here. When K was born via c-section a million years ago, I only saw him for a split second as they held him up over the sheet. He was then whisked away with my mother to the maternity ward where she had the first cuddles and gave him his first bath, while I was stitched up alone and sent to recovery. It was a lonely and sad experience. I was ecstatic to have just had a baby, yet devastated that I hadn’t the opportunity to hold him and look at him and breathe him in.
I was pretty apprehensive going into my emergency section with T that this was going to be the case again, but my hospital had changed the way they did things since then thank goodness. Both births with T and H were as natural and beautiful as they could be. I had almost immediate skin on skin (after a quick wipe over and check) and was able to nurse my babies as soon as they were ready. I was never parted from them. Thank you hospital for coming out of the dark ages.
4. The recovery.
I really am only comparing T and H’s births as they are both fresh in my mind. Also K’s was born when I was young and spritely. Recovery was pretty easy as far as I can remember. With T, recovery was a hard-faced bitch.
Horrible, terrible, nasty, bad pain for the first few days. Seriously unable to move for the first day, even raising and lowering the backrest on the bed was agony. I couldn’t do a thing for T for nearly a full 24 hours, it was not good. He was born around midnight and the following night after visiting hours had finished did they finally allow me to get up and shower.
It was HARD. I had never experienced anything like it. I felt like my stomach was going to split open. I couldn’t stand up straight, I am talking serious hunchback. I almost fainted in the shower and bled like a mother fucker. My insides were recovering from 20 hours of hard labour and my stomach was recovering from being cut open, uterus emptied and stitched back up again. I took all the pain killers available and almost completely lost my mind as a result.
Whether on not the following has to do with them being in more of a hurry to get inside or not, I am not sure but the healing of my incision was not great. Not so much the scar itself but more so the flesh/muscle/tissue surrounding was all hard and lumpy. I was left with a bit of a puffy overhang and no feeling in my stomach from under my belly button, down to the cut.
Awful, dreadful, horrible pain for the first day but I was able to get up and shower the first morning. It was hard to stand up but once I was up I was quite surprised to discover that I could stand up nearly straight. I was steady on my feet in the shower and while in pain, felt ok. I needed and took all my painkillers.
On the second night H was hard to settle and I subsequently didn’t get very much sleep. One of the painkillers I was taking was making me sooooo tired but because I couldn’t sleep I started to hallucinate. Those Endone do not agree with me at all. The next day, I was able to take myself off the Endone and just use the other painkillers available to me. I was in a bit of pain but at least I could think properly again. By the third night I was even able to get on and off the bed somewhat gracefully and lie slightly on my side. It took over a week to be able to do that after T.
Now, the most incredible part of my elective recovery is my incision healing. The hard and lumpy scar tissue was cut out and my scar now sits almost flat. While I still have a bit of an overhang, I don’t think that can be avoided after 3 caesareans it is LESS than it was after T was born! Also, and I do not know how this has happened – my stomach that was still numb and tingly has regained feeling! I now only have slight loss of feeling at the actual incision site. My good caesarean repaired the damage of my crap caesarean! Can you believe it!
5. My vagina.
My vagina is, was and will always be honeymoon fresh.
To conclude, my elective caesarean totally kicked my emergency caesarean’s flabby old butt.
I had known right from the day I discovered we were expecting again that the baby would be born via scheduled c-section. Both K and T were emergency caesarean babies due to a ‘failure to progress’. Man, I hate that saying because it sounds as if you have failed at your very first job as a mother – to birth your babies. Let’s just say, my boys preferred to exit through the alternate route as they cared so deeply for their mother, that they wanted to ensure her vagina remained unscathed. Thanks boys, my vagiburger is very much obliged indeed. D thanks you too.
Caesarean births can be beautiful too, it’s all in your mindset. You need to be focussed on your goal. Whether you planned to fall pregnant or had a happy surprise, what were you looking forward to? What did you dream of during your 9 months? What did you foresee as the end result? Was it to have a baby to love and nurture? Were you looking forward to being a parent and raising a child to become an independent, responsible and caring young man or woman? Or was your sole purpose in getting pregnant to have a vaginal birth – end of story? Of course not, the birth is just a blip in time. A means to an end. If your goal was to mother a child, and love her and wrap yourself up in all of her glory for the rest of your life, then does it really matter through which hole she came?
T’s labour was a horrendous ordeal, I remember saying after he was born, if I was to ever EVER have another baby there would be none of that labour bullshit! One attempt at a VBAC was enough for me and certainly enough for D. Thank goodness my hospital took that same stance. Fine by me.
I was all booked in for my section on Thursday 11th April. I finally packed my hospital bag and put the car seat in the van the day before, so on Wednesday night all I had to do was wash my hair and read the admission information about a dozen times. I laid out my clothes to wear, put my special surgical sponge in the shower for the morning, wrote a list of last minute things to pack and put it on top of my hospital bag. I set my alarm for 5 and went to bed.
Woken by the alarm, I jump out of bed and immediately want a coffee more than I have ever wanted a coffee before in my life. Goddammit, water is going to have to suffice. I am not supposed to have anything to drink from 4am onwards, but I figure that there is no way the hospital is going to be on time so I have a glass anyway, and thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster I did, because it was the only thing that passed my lips for 20 hours.
I get ready, I kiss D and the boys goodbye and my dad takes me to the hospital where I check myself in to be admitted. I am sent up to the maternity ward to wait for ‘someone’ to collect me. They direct myself and another mum-to-be to sit in the corridor. We have no idea who is coming for us so every time someone walks past, we look up in anticipation, only to be disappointed when they shuffle by without so much as a smile. One nurse walks past and says, ‘Hope you ladies have brought your own beds!’ WTF?
Turns out to be a super busy night/day to be popping out babies with not a single bed left in the maternity ward OR the labour ward! I was starting to worry that they were going to send me home to come back the next day. Finally a super lovely and cheerful surgery nurse comes to collect us and takes us up to the ‘pre-maternity’ room where she gives us the run down on what is going to happen and reassures me that I WILL have my baby that day, as mums are being moved and beds are being cleared. She tells me that I am second on the c-section list and to get D up by 9:30 ready to go at 10, but we could still be waiting for a while should an emergency bump me from the queue. I’m given my super sexy gown to wear (no undies) and a comfy reclining armchair to wait in.
D arrive and sure enough 10:00 comes and goes. Murphy’s Law prevails in that as soon as D goes downstairs to get a drink, friendly nurse comes back to get me around midday. So we head off all the while calling D, who for some unknown reason is not answering his phone! I ring, I leave messages. Where the F are you? Get your ass down to the surgery ward!!!!!
I let the team know that my husband is MIA and if they see a slightly bald but super sexy man with a beard wandering around looking lost, send him my way.
Once inside the operating theatre, the anaesthetist gives me the low down on the spinal and we get that under way. Freaky. During the agony of labour, the administering of an epidural just ‘happens’ in a blur of pain and emotion, but in the calm and quiet of the theatre you get to overthink every. single. thing. They are going to stick a fucking needle into my SPINE! I watched my heart rate on the monitor going up and down with my mini freakouts.
Once the spinal was in and beginning to work I was laid down and it was the surgeons turn to talk with me. They went over the details of the caesarean and the tubal ligation. (Yes, I had my tubes tied. We are done at four.) They asked me once more if I was certain I wanted to go ahead with the tubal, to which I replied, ‘Yes, I’m sure, but if she comes out with a doodle, you better check with me again!’ Cue chuckles from the team. But I was serious!
I am finally all numbed up and ready to go so they bring D (they found him) in to sit by my head. This is when I really start freaking out. I am really scared. I’m scared of dying. I’m scared something is still wrong with LSP. I’m scared of the baby with eye protrusion I saw on YouTube. I’m scared to see another doodle. I’m scared they will cut my bladder or my bowel and spill my poo all over the table and inside my open uterus and LSP will ingest it and she will die or at least turn into a massive poo baby herself. I’m scared that 4 children will make me crazy. OK, I’m crazy already but I’m scared. I’m just scared.
D strokes my head and he calms me down.
I can feel the surgeons pushing, prodding and pulling but I can’t feel the pain. I can literally feel them really pushing hard on the top of my tummy but nothing, nadda – no pain. It’s very weird. Then I feel lighter, emptier and they tell us to get ready. We hear our baby let out a cry, the most amazing cry. It was strong and loud. They lower the sheet and lift this little, wailing, beautiful baby up for us to see. She is divine. She is also covered in blood, and D who just DOES NOT DO blood, guts, gore, needles, medical stuff, yelled out something along the line of, ‘Oh god, put it away!’ as he ducked for cover and averted his eyes.
D isn’t going to like this picture because it is a bit bloody but I think it is incredible. My first look at our daughter. I wish I could put it into one of those spoiler boxes so the squirmier peeps, like D, don’t have to see but I can’t so if you need to, close your eyes and scroll down.
From here they whisked her over to the cart for her quick checks and a wipe over. They offered D to cut the cord, to which he replied an emphatic, ‘Hell no!’. Her APGAR scores were 9 and 9. She was almost a perfect 10 out of 10, but for her little purple hands. A teeny tiny little nugget at 2910 grams (6lb 6oz) and 51 centimetres. Born at 12:54pm. She was only out of sight for a minute and then brought over to us for skin on skin.
They tucked her into my hospital gown right onto my chest and wrapped a nice warm blankie over us both. This is where we could get a really good look at her and we both just sobbed and wept tears of joy to be holding our little princess (yes, it was a girl) and she really REALLY was perfect. We cried words of love and adoration for each other and for her. Her face was perfect, her eyes were perfect, her palate was perfect, her everything was perfect. Our lives were perfect. She was everything I had longed for and so much more. My heart was swelled with pride and love for this little tiny girl. My future shopping companion.
We have a daughter.
She was such a little champion. She began to make motions of sucking pretty much right away so we followed her lead and let her have her first breastfeed right there in the operating room while they stitched me up.
Tubal and Caesarean complete, we all wheeled off together to the recovery room, where Hazel (this is where we had to stop calling her LSP), after a little snooze, has another feed and I finally get to have a drink. Cool refreshing lemonade never tasted so good.
D and I, and the boys are completely in love with Hazel. She is the apple of our eye. All I can say is thank ‘whoever you thank in your universe’ that the pill, breastfeeding and lazy sperm failed us as contraception methods. We are thankful. We are happy. We are complete.
*** Disclaimer – This nursery is a random mismatch of new, second hand and home made stuff. Nothing really matches. If you want to see a picture perfect nursery where everything is beautiful you won’t find that here because quite frankly, those nurseries cost the Earth. Even those who are super super crafty and can make shit to match, either spend a fortune on fabrics and things or don’t have 3 other children to run around after while decorating said nursery.
OK. This is it. I really like what I have created in Hazel’s room. It’s pretty, it’s colourful and it is functional. As I have said in my disclaimer – nothing matches. I wish I had enough money to decorate the nursery of my dreams, but hey if I had that much cashola I wouldn’t have grey hair, wrinkles or Kmart bras.
This nursery was buuuuuudget. Some things were reused, some super cheap eBay scores, some freebies, some random bits and bobs I found here and there, some gifts, some things I made and a few things were bought new. A source list will follow the pics. Keep in mind that we are renting so I was not able to make a crappy room better with a lick of paint. Why is it landlords would rather you keep their house ugly instead of making it look better for them for free?
I had to also keep in mind that T is going to be moving into this room sometime down the track when both babies are sleeping perfectly and that will allow the big boys to finally have their own bedrooms again. You have to remember that K and J are entering their teenage angst years where they need their own space to wank in private. Because this is going to eventually be a shared boy/girl room I couldn’t go too overboard pinky pink pink. I decided to go with a colour scheme that I can work with for both kids. I have chosen aqua as a main colour that will tie in for both. H’s side will be aqua and pink, while T’s side will be aqua and orange. Gawd, I hope it will work as well as it does in my head!
Hold on to your hats – here it is…
The Owl Lamp and the Butterfly Light. These are awesome, the lamp especially. It changes to 16 colours and is operated by remote. You can set the colour or do colour change. It has a timer and a sleep function. It gives of just the perfect amount of light for night feeds and nappy changes. I have a Giraffe Lamp in T’s room. I did not want any other night light, these, in my humblest Taco opinion are THE BESTEST. They are from I Love Lights. Huge Range. I highly recommend!
Butterflies. I bought these from Adairs Kids. There were 4 sheets of butterflies in 3 sizes which I used to make the dingle dangle butterfly strings. I just stuck the 3 butterfly sizes together and glued them onto curling ribbon. I weighed them down with crystal beads. I used the left over butterflies on the wall, door and her name. Total cost – Butterflies were $10 and the crystals were $7.
Wall Stickers. These were a splurge purchase from Cut and Paste Shop on Etsy. I got these aqua and pink for H’s side of the room and I also have ready to put up some aqua and orange stickers in a more masculine pattern on T’s side of the window when the time comes.
Bunting. Another Etsy purchase from A Bunting We Will Go. Beautifully hand made and affordable. $24 for 12 flags. Definitely more than $24 worth of work in them I think.
Stuff from Ikea. The owl wall picture was a gift from my mother for my baby sprinkle. The cube storage unit was made possible by a very generous present of an Ikea gift card from a beautiful friend. The pink storage boxes are from Bunnings – they have quite a range of coloured storage boxes for future reference, if you are ever looking for them. Blanket covering the change table mat and the blanket covering the chair. Cushions.
Oink Money Box. We all have these. D and I have a leopard patterned one, K has a Millionaire in the Making pig, J has a purple spotty pig, T has a bumble bee and now H has the ladybird. I love a good theme and I love things that match. Now when family give Christmas and birthday money I have somewhere to put it.
Pig mat – a gift
Sheets – $10 a set from Target
If there is anything else that I have forgotten to list which is of interest, let me know. Hopefully I’ll finish off that last section soon, but I kind of ran out of time and money
Just a quickie.
Born today at some time around 1pm, a teeny little 2.9kg (6lb6oz) of absolute perfection, Hazel Amity Marini.
We are so in love with our daughter. Of course the full birth story will come but right now I’m doped up on painkillers and my eyes just want to close.
Hazel nursed like a champ after birth and has been enjoying some well earned rest.
Here is our beauty.
To be perfectly honest, last night I was just really tired and went to bed early without my obligatory nightly post. Soz (as J would say). I had some pretty intense Darrel Braxtons (what I call Braxton Hicks contractions – if you love Home and Away, like me, you’ll get it), but they were irregular and usually just coincided with me having to get up to either go to the toilet or chase the cat with the water spray.
Cat training, by the way is not going to well. First night or two I thought I was onto a winner, but since then he has ramped up the crazy tenfold. Now he not only meows and scratches and whines at stupid o’clock down at our bedroom, but when he realises that it is going to get him nothing more than a water spray in the face, he goes and pulls the same tricks down the other end of the hall outside all the boys’ bedrooms.
This behaviour still has me getting out of bed 496 times a night and quite simply cannot go on. Time is up. Drastic measures from now on. This morning he had me up and down constantly from 4am – 5:15am, by then I was so cranky that I kicked him. I meant to kick his butt, however in the dark, I kicked him right in the face. I felt awful but he let me get back to sleep for half an hour. Don’t worry peeps, he got his own back. While I was giving him an ‘I’m sorry for being a bitch cuddle’ earlier, he reached up and swiped me fair in the face too. Payback.
He eventually got D up out of bed, who was also pretty angry with the cat. Neither of us has had a decent night sleep for weeks. As soon as we (mainly me) hear his little bell jingling, we think, here we go again… And then game is on. Perhaps he is reacting to the change which is about to happen at home, or perhaps he is just a naughty cat at night but last nights cat-scepades were the last straw.
Tonight, he gets locked in the garage.
He likes the garage, he goes in there all the time. We have a storage room off the back which we will set up his bed and food in. He’ll probably hate us for a while but this shit cannot go on. I don’t see this as a permanent solution. I’m hoping that he’ll calm down and we can trail run him back in the main part of the house in the future but for now this is what we must do. Please don’t send me hate mail. We love Chum-Lee, but we also need to sleep and he needs to learn that he is not the boss of our house. Dinner time and breakfast time is set by us and not him.
LSP will be evicted tomorrow.
Here for you now is a sneak peak at her nursery. The full reveal will happen after her birth. Possibly from the hospital if she lets me have enough rest and I can manage posting from the iPad, but more likely when I get home.
I’ll try and post tonight but I cannot promise anything. What I can tell you is that I have to get up early tomorrow morning and shower with a special hospital antiseptic sponge. My Dad is going to drop me off at 6:30 and I’ll go and get myself admitted and settled in. They begin the surgeries at 8 so Dave is just going to come up then. His time is better served at home getting T up and feeding him breakfast before my mother-in-law comes to watch him. And besides D doesn’t do hospitals well, so the last thing I need is to hear him bitching and moaning about how bored and creeped out he is. I could even go back to sleep for a bit. Can’t say for sure what time I will be going in for my surgery as emergencies get to cut in the surgery line so it’s kind of a play it by ear deal.
Dudes, we have a problem.
My blog is called Four Doodles and a Taco, named so when there was not going to be any further additions to my family.
What do I do with the blog now? Do I go through all the BS associated with changing the name and risk losing the few people who read it, or do I keep the name the same and adapt the subheading? I done the reading on what you have to do to change the blog name and domain and while I ‘think’ it can be done I am pretty scared that I will F it up and have to start from scratch all over again.
I need your help peeps. Help me decide what to do. I will present you with my options, if you wouldn’t mind casting your vote on what you think I should do I would certainly appreciate it.
Much love and thanks xxx
Just got something to say – 2 DAYS TO GO!!!!! Completely finished LSP’s room today. Will photograph it tomorrow and start drafting a post about it, but remember I am not going to reveal until after she is born or you will know her name (it’s on the wall). Still haven’t packed the bag or installed the seat….
Pre-op appointment at the hospital tomorrow. Methinks I am going to have a baby, like, really freaking soon!
Before you ask, no, I haven’t packed my bag and no, we didn’t clean out the van and put the car seat in. Just wanted to get that out of the way. Felt rather slobby and lazy today and didn’t fancy doing a great deal to be honest. I did however THINK about doing those jobs and that is almost as good as actually doing them. Everything is becoming so much more difficult. I think I have expanded even more in the last couple of days to the point where I don’t think I can stretch another inch. I am FULL of baby and she is pushing and prodding every single GD nerve in my butt and vagina and grinding her head right down there in my pelvis. Unpleasant to say the least. The very least.
Took K to the Dr today. He brought back the most horrendous hacking cough from school camp that is just getting worse and worse. I took him to the Dr with me last week to check on the cough and she (not my usual Dr George, who had the nerve to go on a weeks holiday!) said his chest and everything was clear and that he must have had a virus and it will take a few weeks for the cough to clear. Then he started near vomiting and retching with his coughing fits. So back to the Dr we went.
He has now been given some hard core antibiotics and redipred which should for sure clear him up quickly. I really want all the sick out of this house before Thursday! And more than anything I sure as hell don’t want to catch any sick, days before I have abdominal surgery!
I have never been so aware of the ‘sick’ in doctors waiting rooms until today. Holy crapballs, there was some sick floating around today. The waiting room was jam packed full of sick. K and I sat right at the back and thank goodness I picked a spot where no one could sit next to me. K fell asleep which is an indication of how long we had to sit amongst the sick.
Every cough and sneeze made my skin crawl. I almost wrapped my cardigan around my mouth and nose to fashion a makeshift germ mask. I glared at anyone who dared to not shield their hacking coughs and splutters with their hand/arm/magazine. I visualised little particles of spit and snot flying through the air infecting the already infected, where the viruses would morph into super bugs ready to decimate the population. More importantly, those germs could have landed on me.
Seriously, if I get sick now, I will be soooooooooo pissed off.
I’ve always been pretty blasé about germs before. Like, whatever, the sick is unavoidable. If you get it, you get it. Probably far more likely to catch shit being a germaphobe, than allowing yourself to build up a good natural resistance against bugs by getting down and dirty. That is how I have always operated with K anyway. Apart from his asthma which is totally manageable (except right now) he is pretty much one of the healthiest kids I know, but also the filthiest child on the planet. I am sure he could come in contact with the bubonic plague and not catch it. In fact the bubonic plague would probably run and hide from K.
You never really think about the germs and the sick until it really matters. Today it mattered. Tomorrow it matters. This week it matters, it really really matters! I do not want to be coughing and spluttering after having my gut sliced open, emptied and sown back together. No thank you.
There was a father and son in the waiting room. The boy couldn’t have been older than 3. He was on the other couch, away from us. He was jumping on and jumping off, and going over to look at the books and magazines and touch the toys. He was pretty cute so got a fair bit of attention from the sick oldies in the room. After we saw the doctor and went to the chemist to fill our scripts, the father and son came in. The father was pretty oblivious and the boy was walking around touching stuff and going up to people. I happened to walk past the father and noticed the information sheet the doctor had given him while he was standing looking at the wound dressings. Impetigo. School sores! Shit, more sick! I grabbed K and made him stand with me and wait as far away as we could for our scripts to be ready.
On Sunday afternoons, my brother usually comes for a visit with my little nephew. He text me today and asked if I was up to a visit today. First thing I needed to know – is his conjunctivitis cleared up? Does he have a cold? No? Ok, I suppose you can come.
I am so paranoid! I’m like a woman obsessed. Must avoid germs at all costs!