It’s so hard to believe already a week has past since Madeline graced us with her presence!  This time last week I was lying in a hospital bed, numbed with an epidural, waiting to become fully dilated.   We were discharged from the ward on Monday evening and finally allowed to go home.

Being on the ward as a new mom is hard.  Visitors were instructed to leave at 8:30pm, leaving us to fend for ourselves in this new state of being.  Nights were long, and oftentimes I was awoken several times an hour by various babies crying on the ward.  If it wasn’t the cries, it was the anxiety: the need to watch Maddie to make sure she was breathing, or to check her to make sure she wasn’t too hot or too cold.  To be in that position, a new mother with a new baby and left to simply “get on with it” was very scary for me.  My mom was in town to help me and teach me how to do this but even she had to leave with the other visitors.  Mornings were a relief as the midwives started coming around again and visitors were allow back on the ward.

Monday we got to come home and what a relief that was.  And Maddie is such a good baby.  She feeds twice during the night, and my  mom wakes up for each feeding with me to lend support. Maddie and I had a bit of trouble with breastfeeding initially, but got it down to an art by day 5 and eliminated the need for formula completely.

It’s amazing to watch her look at things and try to figure them out.  I love looking into her little face and her big blue eyes and kissing her little cheeks and nose. I love the little flirty faces she pulls when looking at you. I love the soft coos she makes when feeding.   And I am in such awe at just how big a change this has been in our lives, and grateful my mom has been here to help me get used to it.

I am still healing.  To use mom’s terminology, I ripped “from bow to stern,” which makes walking and going from sitting to standing painful.  I have my emotional ups and downs, and my body is still forever changing as my uterus continues to shrink.   It will take a while still to heal but she is so worth it all.

Click the photos to enlarge.

Share on Facebook ]]> http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/index.php/archives/madeline-one-week/feed 0 http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/index.php/archives/madelines-birth-story http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/index.php/archives/madelines-birth-story#comments Thu, 29 Jul 2010 15:21:53 +0000 Nicky http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/?p=733

The day of Maddie’s birth is one I had been picturing ever since those two blue lines appeared on a pregnancy test the morning of Mark’s 31st birthday.  As my bump grew in size, as I passed all the milestones of first scans, first kicks, and first contractions, I have imagined what the day would be like that I got to first hold our daughter in my arms.

That day came on July 24, 2010.

I had been expecting her for weeks.  Contractions came and went, I drank my red raspberry leaf tea and religiously sat bouncing on my yoga ball.  But the day came where I was in the waiting room at my GP’s office, about to attend a midwife appointment I hoped to not make it to: the one five days past the due date.   There, I was scheduled for an induction, almost two weeks past my due date.  Still, I hoped to go into labor naturally before then.

Mark and I picked my mom up from the airport on the 16th. She would be in town for three weeks to help with everything and luckily timed her trip just right to be here for the birth.  We waited and, when I didn’t go into labor on my own, reported for our induction at the hospital at 6pm on July 22nd.

I was admitted to a ward which held several other women and given a prostaglandin to help my cervix thin out and, once visiting hours were over and Mark and Mom forced to leave, left to wait for the dose to take effect.  I slept until around 4 am the next morning, when I felt my very first real contraction.

At 10 visitors were allowed back on the ward and thus Mark and Mom returned. By then the contractions were regular at about one every ten minutes and starting to get uncomfortable.  I kept busy.  We played cards, took walks around the labor and delivery ward, etc.  Sometime that afternoon, they became strong enough that I could no longer talk through them and instead had to focus on getting past the pain and discomfort.  At this point I was still ready to do this without any medication.  Then my waters broke on their own (and I was shocked at just how much comes out!) and the contractions became unbearable.

Maddie, seconds after birth.

I walked around the ward with my mom and up and down stairs trying to help labor progress, stopping every five minutes as each contraction rolled through me.  I was having terrible back labor, and it felt as though my lower spine was about to snap in half with each one.  When I could no longer manage walking, I took to kneeling on all fours in the hospital bed, receiving back rubs from my husband.   That evening, the pain became unbearable. I was moaning / screaming / crying loudly in the ward with the other women there waiting to go into labor, almost surely putting them off of idea.  I wanted to be checked for progress so I could be moved to my own room in Labor and Delivery, and I wanted to be checked to be told the contractions were doing their job.  The midwife came, and she checked, and as she did I thought to myself “I can do this without the drugs, they will check and I will be at least halfway to fully dilated and I can get through this from there.”

I was 2 cm.

I begged for the epidural.

So they moved me up to the next floor and into a delivery room, where I waited for the relief to come.  Each contraction rolled through me, starting at the front of my uterus and quickly enveloping my entire midsection and lower back.  The lower back pain was the worst of it, as it felt like I might be snapped in half.  At long last, the anesthesiologist came into the room like an angel.  I was afraid of the epidural, but I was more afraid of having to continue laboring in the amount of pain I was in.  In between the contractions, which were coming every 3 minutes now,  she worked her magic and got the epidural in place.  When finished, I sat back and waited for the relief to come.

It didn’t.

I was the 1 in 20 women who needed to have the epidural repositioned.  The anesthesiologist removed it and started again.  “Installing” the epi take about five minutes and, for the most part, they can stop any time you get a contraction and resume once the pain recedes.  However, at one point you must remain still as they cannot stop and continue.  I got a contraction right at that point and remaining still was the hardest thing in the world to do, but I did.  The new epi worked fantastically.  And there, in the wee hours of the morning of July 24th, I was able to finally sleep and get some rest.

Sleeping peacefully (The mark on her face is from the foreceps).

Mark and Mom never left. They slept in the room with me, kept me company, and supported me the entire way.  A midwife was always in the labor room as well, even while we slept, watching over me and my baby.  I slept off and on throughout the day, exhausted from the day before.

At some point Saturday afternoon, my epidural became unattached.  We didn’t know this, however, and as the pain started seeping back in, the midwife topped up the dosage in order to help. Of course it didn’t as it wasn’t attached and in just a short time I was screaming in agony.  The anesthesiologist was in the operating theatre and would take about 10 minutes to come. The pain was unlike anything I had ever felt in my life.  This was the full blown labor, the contractions enhanced by the induction.  My spine felt ready to break into a thousand pieces.  The contractions were on top of one another, as one ended a second and a third began with no breaks in between.  I was delirious with pain and could be heard in every room on the entire floor I screamed so loud.  By the time the anesthesiologist came in, I was begging for a c-section, anything to put an end to the pain.  He injected some sort of epidural cocktail down my line as a quick fix, and within minutes I was numb again.  The line was reestablished and the epidural back in working order.

As a result, I checked the connection in the line every so often the rest of the day out of paranoia.

At 7pm I was fully dilated and allowed to push.  I pushed with each contraction for an hour, thinking only of meeting our daughter.  After an hour, the doctor came in and told us Maddie wasn’t handling the contractions well and wasn’t making enough progress.  I would be prepped and moved to theatre where I would be given one last shot with foreceps before needing a c -section. Admittingly, I cried.  It wasn’t how things were supposed to go, and hearing Maddie wasn’t handling it well was hard news.

Mark h0lding Maddie for the first time.

I was wheeled in on my bed, now completely numbed with a spinal block.  I was prepped and told to push and  I pushed with all my strength.  Even in my numbed state I could still feel the pressure of my baby as she was pulled out with the foreceps. Suddenly, she was laid upon my chest for a brief moment before being whisked away again for checks.  I will never forget that moment: those deep blue eyes, the head of hair, and the feeling of being completely in awe of just how beautiful she was.  When I had her back again, I cried.  I loved her immediately and fully.  I loved her tiny hands, her button nose, her pouty lips.  She didn’t cry, she only laid there and looked into my eyes and I looked back.   Mark had tears in his eyes as he sat next to me, and I knew this is what love was.  Through all the pain, the 41 hours of labor, the stitches… it was all worth it in the end.  All of it was worth those few first seconds with Madeline.  Nothing could have prepared my heart for those seconds, for how full I would feel with love for this new human being.  The tiny baby whose little feet kicked inside me for months, whose hiccups could be felt resonating in the womb, who we have thought about and dreamed about for the better part of a year… was finally here with us. And we love her so much.

Introducing our most beautiful daughter, Madeline.

She was born on July 24th at 9:39pm weighing 8 pounds, 9 ounces.  I was in labor for 41 hours.  In the end I was prepped for a c-section but given one last go and, with the help of foreceps, she was born.

But it’s a story for another day, a tale of her birth.  For now I am exhausted, and there is a cute little lady calling me.

As per my previous post, we are back in the housing market.  Between the previous search and this one, our viewing total has reached something in the range of over 40 properties.  Luckily, there seems to be better stuff on the market this time around, and we found a few places we really like: one being a three bedroom house right across from a great primary school.

This little house was one my faves because it had an outdoor garden, three bedrooms, and was in a great location. The school, literally directly opposite, has fantastic ratings and would be a great place for Maddie.  The house is well kept and would require little upon moving in.  And the location was close to local shops. Mark and I went to see it, and we scheduled a second viewing for his dad just four days later.

On a separate property viewing excursion myself, my mom (who is in town for 3 weeks!) and my stepmother-in-law Brigid drove by to have a look at the outside of the property.  Brigid’s only concern, and rightfully so, was what was going to happen to the unused shop next to the house.  As she pointed out, it wouldn’t be very desirable if something like a liquor store were to go in there and be open into the wee hours of the morning, selling booze to late night patrons.  Jokingly, I added “or a porn shop.”

Yesterday my mom, Simon, and I went to view the property for the 2nd time.  Simon noted the drawn curtains above the shop and the possibility that someone rented the space.  He then made his way over to the local video store to inquire about the neighborhood.

The 30 something year old guy behind the counter was very helpful, he described bits of the neighborhood, what it was like, and what could be expected.  Then, Simon asked what the unused shop across the way used to be.

“It’s a brothel.” The store clerk replied, unphased.

Mom and I laughed, thinking it was a joke.  Apparently not.  Apparently, the “unused shop” and the flat space above it has been and continues to be a house of ill repute.  The clerk knew the guy who ran the brothel as well, as he was a patron of the video rental store.  Apparently, pimps also enjoy renting movies when they are not… you know… pimping.

The clerk even knew the couple who owned the prospective property on a first name basis, and knew that they knew about the hookers next door as well.  This was infuriating.  How dare they let me fall in love with their house, only to simply forget the fact of mentioning “oh, by the way, there is a whore house next door.”  What the fuck?

My question was how could such a thing exist across from a primary school?  The clerk replied that occasionally new people move into the neighborhood, find out what it is, and bring around a petition to be signed in order to try to get rid of the brothel, but nothing ever becomes of it. So there it stays.

We humored the estate agent by looking a second time nonetheless and, when prompted about the unused shop, he claimed the planning permission stated it was to become a “washing machine repair shop.”

Cue eyeroll.  He knows, how could you not?

At the end of the day the place was in a great location and right across from a school that would’ve served Maddie well. But, in raising a child and especially a daughter, it was all moot thanks to the whore house operating right next door.  And as Simon pointed out, it wasn’t so much the girls and the sex but the types of men the place would attract, as well as the other things that tend to go along with such a business… such as drugs and violence.

At the end of the day, it really is all about location location location.

Back to the drawing board, but hey… we got a funny story out of it.

It’s been a frustrating week, which is why I probably haven’t gone into labor yet.   We were set to close on a property, and it should’ve been done mid June, end of June at the latest as agreed upon by the vendor… just in time for the baby to arrive.  Everything was in place, the survey done, the mortgage ready.   We had even begun to pack up little bits around the flat in preparation for the closing.  Then, without warning, the vendor stopped responding.  The estate agency could no longer get ahold of him, and the property sale came to a halt.

Yesterday we received the news that the estate agency dropped him as a client, on account of the fact he could be heard in the background saying “Tell them I’m not here” when they called his place of employment as a final effort to get a hold of him.  Turns out, he never had any intention of selling his property.  It came to light there was a lean on the property with a debt collection agency and, in order to prevent repossession of the property, he had to at least appear to be trying to sell.  In reality, it was a game he was playing to avoid the collectors… a game which has cost money in solicitor and survey fees, and four months of our time.

But this isn’t over.  We called the collection agency and let them know of the scam.  They agreed quite openly they were holding off waiting for our sale to go through.  Now, he will have the collectors at his door once more. And that’s not the end of it.  He will rue the day he fucked us about.

So the situation has left us at square one just as the baby is due to arrive.  We have to begin the property hunt all over again, only this time with a newborn.  Our current tiny, one bedroom flat will be good until Maddie outgrows the moses basket and needs a proper crib (which we have, collecting dust at Mark’s father’s house).  Given the property size, we have nowhere we can put a crib.  All the baby and nursery stuff I had bought now collects dust instead of being used, and the beautiful nursery I had in mind for Maddie is no longer within reach.

But I am going to try to remain positive and simply think that perhaps there was an even better property out there we were destined to find, and all of this had to happen so that we would be in the right place at the right time in order to find it.

We had 14 property viewings scheduled today.  We’ve seen 10 thus far and have 4 more to  go later this evening. I am exhausted and, to top it off, had a midwife appointment this afternoon among viewings.

I’m 5 days past due now, and my midwife attempted to do a membrane sweep on me in order to hopefully get things to kick off, but was only able to do a partial sweep due to the fact my cervix is still high up.  Yep, high.  And doing nothing I might add, I am not dilated at all. Not even one lousy centimeter.  It’s disheartening, because it feels like my body is a lame duck, unable to go through with this on it’s own, naturally.

So I am scheduled in at the hospital next week to begin other induction techniques.  If the inserted capsules they will try next do not work to soften and open the cervix, I will have to go in for a c-section.

What. The. Fuck.

I feel like the whole situation is being taken away from me.  I wanted a natural birth, I wanted to give birth vaginally, and it feels like the power (so to speak) of the experience is being stolen from me.  I don’t want to recover from major surgery on top of learning how to care for a newborn.  I don’t want to risk being paralyzed for life from an epidural.  I wanted to do this on my own and unless I go into labor in the next 6 days it’s all going to be taken from me.  I know the positive, at the end of the day, the baby will come out and I will have this beautiful, perfect newborn of my own.  But you know what? I am 41 weeks pregnant, I am hormonal, emotional, and crabby and it’s just how I feel right now.

So there.

Share on Facebook ]]> http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/index.php/archives/frustrating-week/feed 1 http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/index.php/archives/countryside http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/index.php/archives/countryside#comments Sun, 11 Jul 2010 20:32:58 +0000 Nicky http://www.awesomeville.co.uk/?p=702

Drinks (not mine, obviously) in the country.

(yes. I am still pregnant)

Dearest Maddie,

Today is July 10, 2010, better known as your due date.   I’ve been counting down each and every day until this date for well over 150 days now, and I even put up a countdown so others could expect your arrival as well.  Now the timer is up and here we are, still waiting.  Right now I can feel you as your little body shakes with each hiccup, and I continue to wonder: will today be the day?  When will we finally get to meet you?  We found out about you on your father’s birthday and you are a well overdue little present, just waiting to be unwrapped.

So, unless you plan on arriving in the next 5.5 hours, you are going to be officially late.  I realize it is probably quite cozy in there, but I assure you it’s great out here as well and you have many people who have been waiting to meet you here, your father and I the most anxious and excited of them all.

So please, can we forgo you being fashionably late?  We are so excited, and the waiting is killing us!

Love,

mom and dad

Because boobs should only be exposed when you are using them to further your “career” as a no talent assclown, AMIRITE?!?!

Alternative blog title: Why some people should be both muted and sterilized.

Come out Maddie!

It always starts innocently enough:  you belong to a community of people online, and as you browse the various recent forum topics you come across an off topic post, a debate about the new Arizona law enforcing spot check ID sessions for anyone who looks like an illegal immigrant.   Cautiously you may even open the thread and have a look at the responses people have given, but by then it’s too late: you’re going to post and your blood pressure is already on the rise.

I’ve been apart of this debate many times before in different settings with different people and it never turns out any differently.  My argument is well tuned: I’ve got the facts, figures, and links all to hand.  As one who is an immigrant, I can provide insight into a system most people don’t know a thing about…. and I do.  I first read the points others have made… if you can call them points.  Mostly it’s parroting of conservative media propaganda: Mexicans take our jobs, they ride the welfare and benefits system, they choose to come here illegally as opposed to legally.

So I lay my argument out: 99.9% of Mexican migrants do not qualify for any of the US visas which would allow them to live and work in the country legally.  The current systems needs to undergo reform so that we may ensure wages are taxed correctly, that equal wages are being given for equal work (most illegal immigrants make far less than minimum wage… which is why companies hire them), and have a means by which to track who is working.  Illegal immigrants are unable to claim for or file for any government assistance programs, and the statistics even show that there are far more  white, able bodied Americans taking advantage of the government welfare system than any other ethnic group.

So what am I countered with?  Not logical thought, facts, and sources but thinly veiled racism / xenophobia, outlandish claims based on what an individual has “seen” or “witnessed” and little gems of intelligence such as: “They come over here and have 5 or 6 kids each. And don’t tell me that’s their culture… they are trying to take over the country!”  And I hang my head in shame.  I love my home country. I have alot of pride for America and I try to defend America and Americans at any cost especially since living abroad, but comments like the aforementioned one make me so ashamed of my fellow countrymen.

And I thought that this being a DEBATE people would be on the same page: a coherent stance on an issue backed with actual facts and logical arguments.  But sadly this is “TEH INTERWEBZ, LULZ!” and such a thing doesn’t exist.  Instead it was page after page of the most ignorant opinions I have ever had the displeasure of reading… and it wasn’t the STANCE of the opinion that forces me to say that, but rather that most of the people in the debate could not form complete sentences with proper grammar let alone a coherent argument.

But I digress, this post isn’t actually ABOUT the debate itself.

Later that night I run the debate by my husband as we are lying in bed so I could at least salvage an intellectual conversation about the topic from the experience.  And he brought up the most interesting stance of all:  The way these people feel, the racism, the fear, the mere parroting of conservative scaremongering, was natural. It was more than that: it’s evolutionary.  We are nothing more than a group of monkeys and we have food, water, land and mates that we perceive this other group of monkeys (illegal immigrants) as wanting to come and take from us.  It’s us against them and we are primordially programmed to fear those different than us for the fear that what we have, now, will be overtaken.

“But if that’s the case that makes us no better than crapping in our hand and throwing it.”  I argued.

“Exactly.” Mark mused.

The thought certainly bothered me: all the evolution we’ve undergone, all the things we’ve accomplished as a species, ages of literature and thinkers and scientists and yet still all the average person can muster isn’t but a step ahead of flinging one’s own shit in self defense.   At the same time it made perfect sense: we’re nothing more than animals ourselves really, why should I expect us to rise above such primal dividers such as territory and race?

But I did have an answer to the question that had been bothering me:  Why, when you present someone with logic, reasoning, and facts, can you not change their minds?  The answer is simply because we are not programmed at a primal level to see beyond the Monkeysphere. We are a group, a clan, and we  have things we perceive others want to steal from us.  So we bear our teeth in a threatening display and raise the alarm, which will be heard and repeated by all the other monkeys.

Then, we fling our shit.  And it’s never going to get any more advanced than that.