Worry over Nothing

We were driving 2 kilometres to Grandma's house. I repeat: 2 kilometres. That's around about 1.2 miles. Okay? That's all.



Me: Oh, look, we're getting low on fuel (gas) - we'll have to fill up soon.

Sonny Ma-Jiminy: Or will the car stop?

Me: Well yes, I guess so, but we have about 50 km left to go, so that's a long way before the car would run out. It's like ... oh, halfway to WARWICK!

SMJ: And then would we be stopped beside the road?

Me: If we were silly and forgot to refuel, yes, I guess we would.

SMJ: And we'd have to push the car all the rest of the way?

Me, hugely pregnant with the SIJ issue, placenta praevia and blood-pressure problems, recurrent tonsillitis and not getting much sleep: No way! We'd call someone to come and put enough fuel in so we could get to a fuel station, then we'd fill up once we were there.

...Pause...

SMJ in a worried voice from the back of the car: Are we nearly at Warwick?

Me: Son! We are not going to Warwick on an empty tank! We're nearly at Grandma's house. Two kilometres! We'll make it EASILY! Then I will go and fill up! Promise!

Forgetting

Sometimes I leave a shop with the vague feeling I've left something behind ... something small usually, like my purse or -ahem- the item I just BOUGHT. Today I left the pharmacy with the same feeling. But today the item I'd left behind was one whole giant shopping trolley complete with the groceries I'd just gone to the bother to BUY. I'll post a picture to show you that it wasn't a small item.

Miraculously, I remembered the children.

Is that an OTOSCOPE which I see before me?

I mentioned that Smoochy Girl has a phobia of the OTOSCOPE. That's the little light they look in your ears with at the doctor's.



Granted, she did have a raging ear infection soon after we moved here and the doctor did need to confirm this by doing the unthinkable: Looking In Her Ears. But her fear is excessive, and completely irrational. It's pretty cute too.

Scenario 1
Sitting in the doctor's office, Smoochy looks around and gradually becomes aware that it is, in fact, a doctor's office. She plants her hands firmly over her ears and wails, "No No No No NO!! Hurt-a ears!!! NO NO!!!" After the appointment the receptionists look sympathetically at her. "Oh dear, was it immunisations today?" "No," I reply, "They looked in her ears with a torch."

Scenario 2
Daddy is at the doctor's office, for ElbaPlague has claimed him and he is very sick. After an eternity of waiting, Smoochy Girl falls asleep lying in my arms like a little baby. She is hot and feverish herself. The nurse comes for Daddy who is so sick he is semi-passed-out on the bench seat in the waiting room. Daddy shuffles into the doctor's consulting room and as the nurse passes Smoochy, she gently brushes the tiny child's forehead and asks how she is. Smoochy wakes out of a fitful sleep and clamps her hands over her ears. "No! No hurt-a ears! No no no!"

Scenario 3
Mr de Elba and Smoochy came with me to my appointment with the doctor once we found out that I would be needing a caesarean (I usually go solo to all my appointments.) I looked across at Smoochy.


Hm. They are about to surgically de-pregnate me while I lie flat on my back like a beetle on a card, and she is worried they may look in her ears with a tiny little torch. Hm.

My life keeps getting weirder

This one is sorta funny.

So I loved all your comments after I hit "publish" - wow you guys were quick off the mark! I do a "Not Me Monday" and you read, smile and pass on. I blog about sexy granny undies and the comments flood in rapidly! I think I know where to focus my bloggy efforts if I want maximum feedback.

So to Virtual Quilter, Hippomanic Jen and Swift Jan who all asked for photographic proof (though not necessarily modelled by me) I went to take pictures. They aren't black (which is what I was looking for) they are really quite lovely colours - rose, forest green and silver.

I took a few pics and then realised there was no card in my camera. So I can't blog the pictures.

Now of course I have to get the pictures off the internal memory of my camera, otherwise one day someone will be messing around with my camera and wonder why I have pictures of sexy granny undies on there.

And, predictably, I can't work out how.

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Addendum: I worked it out. But for a while there, things were pretty embarrassing.

Wrapping my head around it all

I nearly had a "teary" today. (It's when you get all teary, okay?)

This teary I nearly had was nearly had in K-Mart.

In the change rooms.

There are a lot of reasons why sitting partially naked and hugely pregnant, white and wobbly in front of a few horribly-placed mirrors under fluorescent lights can make a woman teary.

But today, all that ghastliness paled into the background. The issue taking precendence today was that I was there to buy ...

... against my will ...

... against my judgment ...

... against my sense of fashion ...

GRANNY UNDIES.

Which is what we Aussie girls call high-waisted full briefs that you have to wear after a caesarean.

I guess that many women wear high-waisted briefs every day and now you're mad at me for calling your knickers of choice "Granny Undies." I'm really sorry for that. Pretend I never spoke.

But I just wanted to tell you all:

1. I bought 6 pairs to help me emotionally prepare for it all
2. I nearly had a teary in the change rooms
3. I didn't actually have the teary
4. But in a fit of rebellion, I bought SEXY Granny Undies.

True story. They have a pretty little bow and some lace.

Not Me!

I've never done a "Not-Me Monday." It's about time.

Welcome to "Not Me! Monday!" This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

Well, here's what I have NOT been up to.

Well to start with, I did NOT lose my head when I learned that I have placenta praevia. Oh no, I kept my head and abandoned all those idealistic ideas of birth that my last two deliveries have tempted me to crave more of. And I did NOT cry about this, not once. What a waste of time that would have been.

But I did on the other hand receive much support and love from friends here and far away, in the form of comments. However I did NOT fail to thank them all individually and personally, visit their own blogs and show that I care about each and every one of the kind people who spend time making this Aussie gal a little bit cheery. No way, I would NEVER fail to do something like that.

I did NOT continue the DVD marathon, sticking my dear little children in front of the TV while I got my head around things, while I did housework, and while I needed a few quiet moments for myself. I just don't do that sort of thing.

I did NOT neglect the dog again. I think I must have exercised her every day, hmm, maybe I even did it twice a day. Oh yes, I'm sure I did NOT fail to do that.

I did NOT ruin my sister-in-law's new carpet by dragging a mattress with broken spring protruding across it. I would never be so clumsy.

I did NOT continue to use the dryer to dry loads and loads of laundry, when God provided perfectly good sunshine with which to dry them. Can you picture standing before God at the end of your life and hearing Him say, "You have been a good and faithful servant, but on the other hand, you DID use the dryer instead of the sunshine I provided. So depart from me." No? Neither can I. Build a bridge and get over it.

I did NOT wear the same clothes for too many days straight, despite the fact that nobody's very sweaty up here in Winter. Oh no, I had clean fresh clothes every day of the week. Cos yeah, I actually OWN enough clothes (that fit me) to do that and I'm so totally on top of my laundry.

Good on me for NOT doing those things. Head on over to MckMama, not least because she's a mystifying blogger with twice the number of small children I have (one of whom has a chronic health condition) yet she blogs four times as often with ten times the interest level and a thousand times the photographic quality than I've ever achieved, but also because it is she who hosts this bloggy carnival she calls "Not Me Monday" and she's cool.

A Walk In The Forest

One of the coolest things about our new house is that we back onto a nature reserve. The kids call it "The Forest."

This is tree outside our back fence. Overhanging branches were cut off years ago making many knot holes in the trunk where native birds live.

And this is the gate in the back fence that leads out into our forest. From the other side it just looks like a high fence, you can't tell there's a gate in it at all.

Now here's a cool kid who likes to walk beside Daddy or lead the dog:

and so he gets his money's worth from "a walk in the forest" as we call it.

This kid, however, does not like to walk, and does a lot of this sort of stuff:

in order to:

get carried all around the forest by Daddy.

We love our little "forest" behind our new house!

Conversation with a Two Year Old

2yo: Mummy, What's datt?

Me: It's the basket for the cutle-

2yo: Mummy, What's datt?

Me: It's the dishwasher baske-

2yo: Mummy, What's datt?

Me: It's the -

2yo: Mummy, What's datt?

Me: SWEETHEART, LISTEN, it's for the cutler-

2yo: Mummy, What's datt?

Me: A meat pie.

2yo: (pause) Meat pie?

The Good News is it's DEFINITELY Bad News

Sometimes it's easier to definitely know that it's bad news, than to wonder if you need to worry in the first place.

Did you read YESTERDAY? If not, you're going to need to if you want to wade through TODAY.

Today I saw the obstetrician at the hospital. Here is what I learned, and what I achieved today:

☺ I learned from the obstetrician that there is no other way to birth this baby - if I attempt to deliver naturally, there is a 100% chance this baby will die. He said, "I'm sorry, but your decision is taken away from you." In a funny sort of way, it was good to know I will never look back and wish I'd tried this one naturally.

☺ I learned the same from a very sympathetic, very natural-birth-oriented midwife. Having someone as natural-birth as I am saying -again- there is no other way to birth Thingamababy and the decision is taken away from me helped me realise it's not a case of Surgical Cowboys vs. Natural-Birth Midwives. It's real. That will help me accept it. And it's okay.

☺ I cried like crazy in front of the obstetrician. He said, "You will have a caesarean section. Your baby will be healthy and completely fine. And you will be happy." And strangely I found that comforting. I joked with him, "You're going to make me be happy?" And he reminded me he'd just told me that my blood pressure was 130/75, and I agreed with him: he did have the power to force me to be happy.

He also said that I needed to stop being upset because when I am upset, the baby is upset, and that's not good. Well, perhaps he doesn't quite get how things work in the world of hormones and hard times and disappearing dreams. But I liked his approach. He was like that because we get along well. And I think he knew that I was not going to stop being upset just because he told me to!

☺ I cried like crazy in front of the midwife. She was terribly compassionate as I cried, and she said things like, "I am so sorry. I am very, very sorry. I know how desperately you wanted a natural birth. I had two natural births myself, and the very thought of a caesarean scares me!" And she seems to really understand, deep down, how I feel.

And although I liked the obstetrician's bossy style, the midwife's style was even better for me.

☺ I got to chat through some of my birth plan issues with the midwife. I don't have to lose control over absolutely everything. Just 98% of things. That's all.

☺ I am not on bed rest! (But thanks so much Jen for your email.) "Taking it easy" is a good idea, but there's no need for me to stop doing everything I do just yet. I am SO RELIEVED!

☺ Then I had a jab of steroids to develop the baby's lungs more, and will have another tomorrow. This is so that if I find myself in the next few weeks somewhere -say- lying in a hammock quietly sipping an iced tea with a little cocktail umbrella in it, and all of a sudden -KAZAM- I suffer a massive bleed and can get to hospital quickly for an emergency caesarean, the baby's lungs will be more developed and he/she will be better prepared. (For the Toowoomba Winter, presumably.)

Because all of you know how I like my births to be all quick and spontaneous and exciting.

☺ And I also had a blood test so they can be prepared in case I do suffer a massive life-threatening bleed and require an emergency blood transfusion.

So that's all sorted too.

Geez, I DO like having things all neat and tidy and prepared.

Sorry. If you can't hear that I am oozing Flippancy & Sarcasm here, perhaps you should be reading a different blog.

Hmm. Do you think they could give me a leetle bit of lipo around the tummy and hips while they're down there? Perhaps pump some 'Selleys No-More-Gaps' into the sacro-iliac joint?

Sorry. Can't help myself!

Thanks for the jokes, people! Keep them coming! Better give it a rest right after major abdominal surgery, but until that happens (when?) I'm good to laugh! I didn't even need the maternity pad. Perhaps having a c-section allows your 'birth virginity' to ... umm, grow back?

Sorry again! I cannot turn the Flippancy & Sarcasm off! Someone find the switch!

Lots of Grumpiness, and an Open Call for JOKES!

So there are worse things in life. Much worse things. But I can't stop crying, and I feel a total schmuck because of that.

I have had my ultrasound.

I have placenta previa.

And it's a pretty convincing placenta previa.

I will be having a caesarean.

I am devastated.

And I can't stop crying.

And that's stupid, because this dear little baby, the one who jumps around inside me all day and night, the one we have looked forward to for ages, the one I've been bonding with in between moving house and being sick and getting Sonny Ma-Jiminy to kindy - this baby will LIVE!

Not only that - I have met many good bloggy friends over the last few years who have stories much sadder or much scarier than mine. Right now, a good bloggy friend is going through a very difficult time in her much-wanted pregnancy. Six and a half years ago, another great friend lost her much-waited-for little girl, stillborn at 36 weeks. My heart goes out to them, in a less cliched way than I composed this stupid sentence.

How could I possibly waste time crying because more intervention was needed in my birth than I wanted?

They told me that I have to get as much rest as I can until the birth. I laughed. Do they not KNOW what even my Minimum-Standards Days involve? And anyway, my identity is wrapped up in what I achieve for my family on a day-to-day basis. How could I possibly outsource MY work onto my husband or my mother? (Sorry, Mum, bet you wished you stayed on holidays a little longer now!) Who do I become then?

And why am I upset about 4 to 5 weeks of rest when another great bloggy friend was put on complete bed rest for 14 weeks before (and probably 6 weeks after) her triplets were born? Jen, email me and tell me how "bed rest" even WORKS.

Then - wow. A caesarean. Don't wanna tell you my thoughts on that.

Then apparently, I will have to rest for 6 weeks after the caesar.

Thingamababy will live because I am fortunate enough to have a healthy growing baby in there, because I am fortunate enough to live in a country where I can nourish myself and my family, because I am fortunate enough to live in a country where Medical Care can say, "Aha! Placenta previa. We'll do a caesarean so that the baby doesn't bleed to death before it can breathe."

How fortunate am I?

And how thankless am I that I can't stop crying? That I can't see my keyboard for the tears, that I am devastated at the loss of another exhilarating birth scenario like the one I had with Smoochy Girl? That was better than winning big on a huge game show, more exhilarating than the biggest rollercoaster in the world, more satisfying than serving a massive dinner to huge acclamation. After Smoochy blasted out of me, I jumped off the bed, had a shower, put my comfy exercise gear back on and wheeled my baby right outta there.

This time?

I hardly know what to expect (even though I technically KNOW what to EXPECT.)

Just bear with me until sometime in August or September when I'm all healed and fully functioning again, holding a tiny-small Blue One or Pink One in my arms, wondering why I wasted these tears in the first place.

Just ... bear with me.

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In the meantime - I have a need. A need that each one of you can help with. I need to LAUGH - I need to laugh out loud and the funniest, silliest jokes you've heard recently. Ask your spouses, ask your kids, ask your neighbours (but don't bother asking your Dads): tell them that crazy pregnant lady is in need of light entertainment and SEND THE JOKES MY WAY! Leave them in the comments or email me: ukulelefly AT gmail DOT com. If need be, I'll wear a maternity pad. I just need the laugh!