3 is NOT the magic number!

This year we celebrated Molly's third birthday. I was heavily pregnant with Harriet at the time, hence no earlier post on the party. We had a joint party with two of Molly's best mates, whose mums (my good friends) were also heavily pregnant and had just had their second baby. We divided up the responsibilities so none of us had too much to do, which worked beautifully for us. The party itself was fantastic and all the kids had a wonderful day. It was what had begun just before Molly turned 2 and continued into her turning 3 that has slowly driven me to madness.

The cake I made for their Peppa Pig party

People constantly talk about the "terrible twos", but let me tell you something, it begins before they turn two and progressively gets worse. The most horrendous moments come during the age of 3. I'm sure that having a new sibling hasn't helped much, but my sweet little monkey has literally become Reagan from The Exorcist. As I sit here and write this, she is currently giving herself home tattoos with black and brown textas.

I am really battling with her on a daily basis. She is like a buzzard around Harriet, always wanting to kiss, cuddle and hold her, which can be very sweet, but she gets right up in her face. I try so hard to be patient, but after asking Molly not to touch her sisters head for the gazillionth time I tend to lose it. It's at these moments when my patience becomes non-existent that I really feel like the worst mum in the world. I hate snapping at her and losing my cool. I have to remind myself that she is only a 3 year old child...a CHILD. Molly seems so much more grown up and her language is so advanced that it's easy to forget that she is only 3. On top of that, her whole world has just been turned on it's head and here I am screaming the roof down at her because I am essentially just really bloody tired. I honestly don't know how people cope with more than two children. Molly was enough of a handful on her own, now she's a truckload hahaha!

This photo says it all hahaha!

When I was in hospital after having Harri, Molly would cry every time she had to leave me. It broke my heart, and I really hated being apart from her. Then the other night when she got into trouble, she turned around to me and shouted, "I want you to go back to hospital!", what a cow! Or if she gets mad with me she will shout "I'm very angry with you right now!" and then do a high pitched scream which I am sure sends all the cats and dogs in the neighbourhood running. 

I have to say that she still has her moments of hilarity and joy in between her moments of insanity. I just hope that she grows out of this attitude soon, because that's exactly what it is, attitude. My daughter is a princess, and not in the elegant royal way.

I guess we're a work in progress and all we can do is work towards shaping Molly in to a well adjusted and loving young lady who so happens to also have fiery temper. My advice to anyone who will encounter my Molly, don't piss her off.....I have felt the wrath of my 3 year old and it burns hahaha!

Natural Birth: My journey on the road to the burning ring of fire....

It's official, I am now a mum of two! After what seemed like the longest pregnancy in history, I finally gave birth to my second daughter Harriet, on her actual due date of July 20th. Now, I am about to tell you the detailed events that led up to Harri's birth and I must warn that I am not going to hold back. READER WARNING: This is going to be hectic!

I'll begin on Wednesday the 17th of July. I was 39 weeks and 4 days. I had my weekly midwives clinic appointment at 3:10 pm. All through my pregnancy my blood pressure had been perfect, but after what happened when I had Molly (my blood pressure escalated during birth) I forever had a dark cloud looming within me waiting for it to happen again. So I went to my appointment feeling as heavy as a whale carrying triplets. The moment she took my blood pressure she looked me dead in the eyes and said, "it's not good". Panic immediately ensued. I had to have bloods done, do several urine samples, then an ultrasound and then I was hooked up to a fetal monitor to make sure Harri was OK. After all the tests and being at the hospital for over 4 hours I was taken down to labour ward where an Obstetrician advised me I was being kept in overnight to be monitored and that they wanted me back on Saturday morning to be induced. I felt like I had been smacked in the face with a baseball bat. I started to cry and get quite upset as I wouldn't see Molly that night and I wasn't prepared for that just yet. I was discharged the following day and able to go home and prepare for my induction on Saturday.

We had to be at the hospital for 7 am on Saturday morning, so Molly had to have her first ever sleep over with her grandparents on the Friday night. I didn't realize how hard it was going to be for me, being away from my Molly. With that we began the journey to meeting our new addition.

Induction is a 3 step process:

1. Cervidil is inserted (This is a slow release Prostaglandin. It contains a hormone similar to those produced naturally by your body which helps to stimulate labour. It helps prepare your cervix for labour (this is known as “cervical ripening”). Apparently this will do nothing for a 1/3 of women, for another 1/3 labour will begin but die off and the last 1/3 will go into full scale labour.
2. The following day small inflatable balloons are inserted to shake up the membranes.
3. Syntocinon is administered. This increases the contractions.

The Cervidil was was given to me and they advised me to go for a long walk. I asked if it would be OK if my husband and I walked up to King Street to Burger Fuel and Max Brenner as we were both starving. The midwives said, they preferred patients to stay on hospital grounds but that we wouldn't be too far so it should be OK. On the walk up to King Street I had to stop at a bus stop as I felt a mild contraction. At this point I looked at Jonathan and said "I think she's going to come today". We laughed and smiled and continued on. We had lunch at Burger Fuel and my mum came and met us with Molly as I was eager to see her one last time before her sister arrived. I had a couple of small contractions while at lunch so thought we should head back to the hospital. My mum drove us back and Jonathan headed home to feed the cats and do some bits and bobs. It was to be a fleeting visit home for him. I rang Jon crying begging him to come back straight away, to which he jumped on his motorbike and did so. He was pulled over by police who said he was driving aggressively. He told them I was in labour and they said he hadn't done anything wrong he was just driving aggressively and to just get to the hospital. So as it turns out, I am part of the 1/3 of women who go into full scale labour.

So labour really kicked off at about 2:30pm and I was certainly feeling it. At the last check I was already 3cm dilated so they took me straight down to labour ward, where I was wheeled into the very same room that I gave birth to Molly on. I was so happy to be in the same place. My midwife was a stunning woman named Alex. She had the most flawless skin I had ever seen, perfect teeth and a smile to match. She was also extremely lovely. I also had a student midwife named Kate who was also very pretty and super nice. 

Alex asked me what kind of pain relief I would like if I wanted any. I said I had had an epidural with Molly and was looking for the same right now as I was in a fair bit of pain. She went off to organize an anaesthetist for me and I was prepped with a cannula ready for my epidural. In the meantime I was sucking down hard on the gas. At this point things got quite hectic. I was then advised that the anaesthetist had been called off to an emergency caesarean and my epidural would be little longer than anticipated. This happened several times and then it happened. I never knew that sensation of wanting push because I had an epidural with Molly, but all of sudden there it was and I was freaking out. I started shouting "please tell me she's not posterior!"...and from that my language took a downward spiral. I screamed that I needed to push, however there was still some cervix over Harri's head so my midwife had to move it....while I was having a contraction. Sweet Jesus, the pain was HORRIFIC! I began screaming "I am going to s**t myself!!!!" and "I'm going to vomit!!!" I had never experienced pain so severe that it made me feel sick until then...and of course "I want my f***ing epidural!!!" which of course I knew I was never going to get.

Jonathan held my hand through it all, holding up the sick bag when I thought I was going to vomit and just generally being my rock solid man. Then the burning ring of fire hit me and I started screaming out "THE BURNING!!! THE BURNING!!!". At this point I was just screaming like a maniac and then finally I was crying and pleading "I can't do it...I can't do it!"....and with a final big push Harriet was born and relief hit me like a tsunami. Relief that my baby was here and safe, and relief that the most horrendous pain I had ever felt was finally over.  And let me tell you something, giving birth with no pain relief is not empowering or invigorating. I guess a sense of empowerment can be felt in hindsight, but in the moment of it all it's messy, painful and frightening. I wanted that epidural more than I can express. I wouldn't allow my cats to feel pain like that so why would I put myself through it?! The only thing that I truly felt was relief. Harriet was born at 7:17pm. When they weighed her I almost fell off my my bed. She came in at a whopping 4.045Kg!!! I exclaimed "Are you telling me I just pushed out a 4Kg baby with no pain relief?!". Then came the news...second degree tears again...so the repair work began while I held my beautiful baby girl and talked candidly about the UK with my husband and new midwife who was stitching me up, she was from Lancashire. It had been a long 5 hours.

Jonathan told me that I had made noises that he'd never heard me make before. Apparently at one stage I even made a noise like Xena Warrior Princess, with that kind of yodel, except I wasn't using my tongue to create the noise, it was my throat reverberating through my screams.

The following day Molly met her baby sister for the first time. Her eyes lit up and she exclaimed "she's so beautiful!". She held Harriet and was completely smitten as we all are. Now we embark on the journey of two children. Where's the manual for these kids again? Hahahahahaha!