His face pulled away from mine reluctantly, and I could tell from his eyes that he was smiling. My heart pounded, my face was flushed, and my legs seemed to have stopped working.
It was the perfect first kiss.
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Thursday, 3 January 2019
Thursday, 13 September 2018
What sadness can bring
Mr M lost a very close friend a week ago. It was an unexpected and tragic death, and he leaves behind his wife and toddler, and a small community of family and friends struggling to comprehend what's happened.
Death and grief are two of my all-time least favourite subjects (and I don't think I'm alone in this). I have a tendency to run away from death and grief in the hopes that they will never touch my life; I know, I know, dumb and impossible.
But, Mr M has been utterly devastated by this loss and I am proud to say that even with my aversion, I have fully stepped up to help him through this sad and painful time.
I NEVER confront death. If the thought of it enters my head, my brain scrunches its eyes shut tight, holds its hands up to its ears and sings "LAH LAH LAH, I CAN'T HEAR YOU" ever so loudly. But this time, I told my brain to stop. I'm not wallowing in my emotions, but I am sitting with them; welcoming them into my heart, acknowledging them and allowing them the time to be processed appropriately. I respect this man too much to ignore my hubands (and my own!) feelings on the sadness of his passing.
(Huh. It seems that I may have grown up somewhat... well, that and a few years of therapy!)
With this newfound sense of acceptance, I have also broken through my fear of visiting with our friend's wife. I was terrified that I would do something wrong, or say something stupid and thoughtless in my awkward uncomfortableness with the enormity of the situation. But in the face of her all-consuming grief, a grief that I cannot even begin to fathom (thanks to my never entertaining the thought of such a loss), I stared down my fear and reached out to her with an gigantic hug and a heart full of love. And from her reaction, I did good.
Side-note: I'm a great hugger, it's kind of my signature move.
As usually happens in the aftermath of a tragedy, the truly important things in your life tend to pop out in stark contrast to the mundane and ordinary things; the things that seem to consume all your time and energy but aren't really as important as they pretend to be.
Through the (far too) few times we have spent time together, and stories from Mr M, I know that his friend was funny, insightful, spiritual (though not religious), a very devoted husband and father, generous - he was a giver (of time, energy, and things when required), a super talented cinematographer, a writer, a refugee, a pain in the ass sometimes (aren't we all!), a dream chaser, a lover of animals, open-minded (and even when he was being a judgmental jerk, he was still open to the alternative view), an amazing friend to Mr M (with a fantastically eclectic bunch of friends), and a real go-getter; if he said he was going to do something, he went and did it. No exceptions. And everything that he did, he approached with an open heart ready to accept the adventure ahead.
Because of his friendship with Mr M, and with his passing, this man has become an inspiration to me. His heartbreakingly early death has reminded me that life is waaaaay to short to be fucking around with things that make me feel "meh" or make me unhappy. He was prolific with the work that he created, writing a feature film about his family's life and their ordeal to seek asylum in Australia in the 70s, whilst at the same time working on a documentary about an orchestra from his home country, and filming artistic adverts for international fashion houses.
Death and grief are two of my all-time least favourite subjects (and I don't think I'm alone in this). I have a tendency to run away from death and grief in the hopes that they will never touch my life; I know, I know, dumb and impossible.
But, Mr M has been utterly devastated by this loss and I am proud to say that even with my aversion, I have fully stepped up to help him through this sad and painful time.
I NEVER confront death. If the thought of it enters my head, my brain scrunches its eyes shut tight, holds its hands up to its ears and sings "LAH LAH LAH, I CAN'T HEAR YOU" ever so loudly. But this time, I told my brain to stop. I'm not wallowing in my emotions, but I am sitting with them; welcoming them into my heart, acknowledging them and allowing them the time to be processed appropriately. I respect this man too much to ignore my hubands (and my own!) feelings on the sadness of his passing.
(Huh. It seems that I may have grown up somewhat... well, that and a few years of therapy!)
With this newfound sense of acceptance, I have also broken through my fear of visiting with our friend's wife. I was terrified that I would do something wrong, or say something stupid and thoughtless in my awkward uncomfortableness with the enormity of the situation. But in the face of her all-consuming grief, a grief that I cannot even begin to fathom (thanks to my never entertaining the thought of such a loss), I stared down my fear and reached out to her with an gigantic hug and a heart full of love. And from her reaction, I did good.
Side-note: I'm a great hugger, it's kind of my signature move.
~*~*~*~*~
As usually happens in the aftermath of a tragedy, the truly important things in your life tend to pop out in stark contrast to the mundane and ordinary things; the things that seem to consume all your time and energy but aren't really as important as they pretend to be.
Through the (far too) few times we have spent time together, and stories from Mr M, I know that his friend was funny, insightful, spiritual (though not religious), a very devoted husband and father, generous - he was a giver (of time, energy, and things when required), a super talented cinematographer, a writer, a refugee, a pain in the ass sometimes (aren't we all!), a dream chaser, a lover of animals, open-minded (and even when he was being a judgmental jerk, he was still open to the alternative view), an amazing friend to Mr M (with a fantastically eclectic bunch of friends), and a real go-getter; if he said he was going to do something, he went and did it. No exceptions. And everything that he did, he approached with an open heart ready to accept the adventure ahead.
Because of his friendship with Mr M, and with his passing, this man has become an inspiration to me. His heartbreakingly early death has reminded me that life is waaaaay to short to be fucking around with things that make me feel "meh" or make me unhappy. He was prolific with the work that he created, writing a feature film about his family's life and their ordeal to seek asylum in Australia in the 70s, whilst at the same time working on a documentary about an orchestra from his home country, and filming artistic adverts for international fashion houses.
He was living every single, day doing what he was passionate about and enjoying every moment. Yes there were bad times for him, and unpleasant interactions that impacted on him. But they never stopped him from pursuing what he wanted.
A few days after his death, I wrote a list: "Things that need to happen". Some of the things on the list are chores that I should have done ages ago (contact a financial advisor); some are things that are super important to do ASAFP, especially now that I know that any moment could be my last (write a will! This also falls under the should have done ages ago section); and some are things that I have been meaning to put effort into, but just never find (make!) the time to do.... such as writing and finding a side hustle.
To honour the life of this talented mo-fo, I have decided to live my life more fully. Concentrate on the things and people that fill my heart with love and joy. Dedicate some time each day to writing, and to find the joy in learning the craft. And together, Mr M and I have decided to live the life that we want to live; to pursue a lifestyle that results in our family's happiness.
Hold your loved ones close, and connect with those who mean the most to you, tell them WHY they mean so much to you. Try not to take anyone for granted, for who knows when they won't be there anymore.
Big love.
Monday, 7 November 2016
Gratitude Project - 7th November
I've been finding Monday's such a draaaag these last few weeks - probably because of the time of year, and the general exhaustion I think nearly everyone feels around now.
But every three months, I have to attend a two-hour meeting that seems to make the day infinitely longer. And then I have to experience it again when I write up the minutes; like it's not bad enough that I had to live through it the first time....
Today's meeting was in a room over looking a communal area, with a gorgeous jacaranda in the corner. Have I ever told you how much I love jacarandas?
I'm also excited that Mr M is home today. I love the solo time when he goes (trashy tv is my favourite!), but I love snuggling with him more, and I can't sleep without him... oh, that is almost vomit-inducing HAHAHA
Things I am grateful for today:
1. A summer breeze. There's a smell about summer, and an excitement that comes with it. Even though I'm a lifetime out of school, the smell of summer makes me think of looong school holiday and the joy of youth/young adulthood....
2. Chocolate. About an hour before my meeting this afternoon, I realised that I was going to need an energy boost. Now I could have been sensible and had a banana or some other healthy option.... but I ended up with a twix and a cuppa. It was perfect.
3. Leftovers! Even though Mr M was away last night, I (reluctantly!) made dinner as if he were home. And tonight, I reaped the benefits! A delicious dinner with next to no effort - my favoutire kind of meal!
But every three months, I have to attend a two-hour meeting that seems to make the day infinitely longer. And then I have to experience it again when I write up the minutes; like it's not bad enough that I had to live through it the first time....
Today's meeting was in a room over looking a communal area, with a gorgeous jacaranda in the corner. Have I ever told you how much I love jacarandas?
I'm also excited that Mr M is home today. I love the solo time when he goes (trashy tv is my favourite!), but I love snuggling with him more, and I can't sleep without him... oh, that is almost vomit-inducing HAHAHA
Things I am grateful for today:
1. A summer breeze. There's a smell about summer, and an excitement that comes with it. Even though I'm a lifetime out of school, the smell of summer makes me think of looong school holiday and the joy of youth/young adulthood....
2. Chocolate. About an hour before my meeting this afternoon, I realised that I was going to need an energy boost. Now I could have been sensible and had a banana or some other healthy option.... but I ended up with a twix and a cuppa. It was perfect.
3. Leftovers! Even though Mr M was away last night, I (reluctantly!) made dinner as if he were home. And tonight, I reaped the benefits! A delicious dinner with next to no effort - my favoutire kind of meal!
What's your naughty go to snack - please don't let me be the only person who hits the chocolate!
Friday, 17 April 2015
Gratitude Project - 17 April 2015 - including Friday Feels!
Things I am grateful for today:
1. Family, family, family! Both sets of grandparents have been freaking amazeballs about helping out with Mac (& sometimes Warrie) during our first ever school holidays. I have no words to express my thanks, but I think (hope!) they know
2. A glass (or three!) of wine tonight. I know the standing joke is "I'm a mother, I don't get weekends", but I still enjoy my Friday night wind downs... Sure it's not the clubbing and boozy nights of my 20's, but they work for me. And I can still wake up and cope with the kids - well, most Saturday's!
3. Tight finances. I know that sounds funny, but having some slight financial worries for the last few weeks has really made me better able to focus on what is vital to our family. I'm proud to say that I've managed to cut our weekly food shop by nearly $100!!
Seeing:
I have had a couple of opportunities this week to indulge in a guilty pleasure of watching some trashy TV... Don't judge, but I love "Once Upon a Time"!
Hearing:
When I was with my brother last month (was it really last month!?!) he reminded me of how much we used to listen to Paul Simon's Graceland album as kids. I've now got in on my trusty Spotify account, and have been listening to it pretty much on repeat for the whole week. I've subjected Mac and Warrie to it too, and I think they enjoy it
{youtube clip}
Taste:
Last weekend, I came home from my parents place with a large bag of frozen meats, included some huge and delicious spicey sausages. I made my weekly favourite of toad in the hole, and devoured a very healthy portion. So much yum!
Smell:
I have a slight obsession with food, and my next door neighbour (the Pool Neighbour) has a wonderful habit of frying off onions and garlic first time in the morning - I think she might be a home catering company, I've just not had the guts to find out... Yet!
Touch:
We are cat-sitting a gorgeous little Burmese-esque cat; the boys are utterly entranced by her, I just love having the extra estrogen in the house! It's been a long 6-weeks, but she is finally settled (apart from her intense dislike of our big cat!), and has started sleeping on the bed with me. And as the mornings are getting cooler, I am really enjoying the soft furry cuddles that she gives.
1. Family, family, family! Both sets of grandparents have been freaking amazeballs about helping out with Mac (& sometimes Warrie) during our first ever school holidays. I have no words to express my thanks, but I think (hope!) they know
2. A glass (or three!) of wine tonight. I know the standing joke is "I'm a mother, I don't get weekends", but I still enjoy my Friday night wind downs... Sure it's not the clubbing and boozy nights of my 20's, but they work for me. And I can still wake up and cope with the kids - well, most Saturday's!
3. Tight finances. I know that sounds funny, but having some slight financial worries for the last few weeks has really made me better able to focus on what is vital to our family. I'm proud to say that I've managed to cut our weekly food shop by nearly $100!!
Onto my Friday Feels
Seeing:
I have had a couple of opportunities this week to indulge in a guilty pleasure of watching some trashy TV... Don't judge, but I love "Once Upon a Time"!
Hearing:
When I was with my brother last month (was it really last month!?!) he reminded me of how much we used to listen to Paul Simon's Graceland album as kids. I've now got in on my trusty Spotify account, and have been listening to it pretty much on repeat for the whole week. I've subjected Mac and Warrie to it too, and I think they enjoy it
Here's one of my all time favourite music videos - I loved Chevy Chase as a little girl, and this video had one of my favourite songs with one of my favourite actors; pretty sure this was my idea of perfection way back when. I hope you enjoy!
{youtube clip}
Taste:
Last weekend, I came home from my parents place with a large bag of frozen meats, included some huge and delicious spicey sausages. I made my weekly favourite of toad in the hole, and devoured a very healthy portion. So much yum!
Smell:
I have a slight obsession with food, and my next door neighbour (the Pool Neighbour) has a wonderful habit of frying off onions and garlic first time in the morning - I think she might be a home catering company, I've just not had the guts to find out... Yet!
Touch:
We are cat-sitting a gorgeous little Burmese-esque cat; the boys are utterly entranced by her, I just love having the extra estrogen in the house! It's been a long 6-weeks, but she is finally settled (apart from her intense dislike of our big cat!), and has started sleeping on the bed with me. And as the mornings are getting cooler, I am really enjoying the soft furry cuddles that she gives.
What's your guilty viewing pleasure? What about your favourite music video? I'd love to know, so I can look them up!
Friday, 11 July 2014
Friday Feels - 11 July
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| {Image from here} |
I was ashamed for a moment that I had forgotten about that trip, and over the last few days, I've been trying to recall the memories of the trip. I mean, it's PARIS for goodness sake, and it was my first weekend away with a boyfriend. Yeah, I was there about 20 years ago, but surely I should have some sort of lasting memory of it?
But things get muddled, and I'm not sure if some of my memories of Paris are from that weekend away, or the school trip I took to EuroDisney, when we spent a day in Paris on the way home.... let alone the effect that Hollywood will have had on my memories.
So I've decided to try to recall some memories of the bigger trips I've taken and the amazing places I've seen in my life. I've had a pretty interesting life (well, I like to think so!), so I hope you don't mind me sharing them with you :)
Ok, moving on to my Friday feels:
Hearing: I have rediscovered deep house music, and I've been listening to it every day in the office in an attempt to focus on work and stop the distractions.
My other Spotify favourite is their #ThrowbackThursday playlist.... this Oasis song came on today and pretty much picked me up and threw me right back into the 90's
Seeing: Yesterday, Mr M and I went on my first ever bush walk. It was a relatively easy trail, that headed towards Red Hands Cave. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and I was spending the morning walking with my beloved - as an antidote to the way my week had been shaping up, nothing could have been better.
 |
| {Image from here} |
Smelling: Mr M was away for a week for work recently - I have a whole new found respect for single parents!! It wasn't until he returned and I smelled his deodorant that I realised just how much I had missed his smell
Touching: Warrie loves me to "tickle back", and will sit on my lap with a look of utter bliss on his face as I tickle his little back... its so small, for now. It's a combo of joy and sorrow as I measure the size of Mac and Warrie's backs with my hand, tickle their soft downy skin, and trace their strong straight spines. Oh gosh I love my little boys!!
Have you ever forgotten a trip or a special place that you've been to?
What's your favourite travel memory?
Tuesday, 13 May 2014
Self love is the new black!
So I feel like my last post was a bit of a downer. Especially as I set it to post on Mothers Day - awks! I had totally forgotten about Mothers Day when I scheduled the post!!
Today, I saw this post on MindBodyGreen about learning to love your body. And this comes just days after my Mum gave me a magazine article about being kind to yourself (which I'm yet to read).
So Universe, I get it, I am starting to listening to you. I will read the articles, take the advice on board, and take action.
I am sick of not loving myself enough. It has been such a long time since I fully accepted myself and been happy with the way I am... it was a magical few years between 17 and 20.
Mostly in the time since then, I have liked myself. Usually enough, sometimes barely enough. But loving myself? Surely that's what husbands are for!? (I'm joking!!)
So I'm ready to change, ready to be a woman comfortable in her own skin - stretch marks and all... well, maybe not the stretch marks just yet.
The MindBodyGreen post had a few suggested positive affirmations to help on the journey of self love. I have printed them off and I'm going to put them next to my bed to be the last words I see at night, and the first words I see in the morning....
In the meantime, to counteract the negative feeling I was left with after my last post, here are a list of things I love about myself:
Huh. I actually already feel a bit better.
I did NOT see that coming! :)
Today, I saw this post on MindBodyGreen about learning to love your body. And this comes just days after my Mum gave me a magazine article about being kind to yourself (which I'm yet to read).
So Universe, I get it, I am starting to listening to you. I will read the articles, take the advice on board, and take action.
I am sick of not loving myself enough. It has been such a long time since I fully accepted myself and been happy with the way I am... it was a magical few years between 17 and 20.
Mostly in the time since then, I have liked myself. Usually enough, sometimes barely enough. But loving myself? Surely that's what husbands are for!? (I'm joking!!)
So I'm ready to change, ready to be a woman comfortable in her own skin - stretch marks and all... well, maybe not the stretch marks just yet.
The MindBodyGreen post had a few suggested positive affirmations to help on the journey of self love. I have printed them off and I'm going to put them next to my bed to be the last words I see at night, and the first words I see in the morning....
- I am enough
- I am beautiful
- I am unique
- I love and respect my body (also, my mind and spirit!)
- I am more than my body
- My body is a safe, happy place
- I reject artificial standards of beauty that do not serve me
- I love myself unconditionally
- I see the beauty in all living things
In the meantime, to counteract the negative feeling I was left with after my last post, here are a list of things I love about myself:
- I love the shape of my feet and how cute they look when I get a pedicure
- I love my legs
- Mr M loves my bum, so I guess that I can love that too.
- My biceps are pretty alright too.
- I love my big heart, and how open I am to loving people and letting them in.
- I love that my smile always reaches my eyes. I don't usually fake smile - if it's not for real then I just won't smile, full stop. Oh unless it's small talk stuff and I'm being polite... but even then, I think I'm pretty genuine about my smile.
- I love my eyebrows - I have had a number of beauticians in the past tell me how lovely they are, and my Mum is totes jealous of them! :)
- I love my personality, I'm usually bubbly and always ready to see the positive side of things (unless it relates to me.... but I'm going to change that!!)
Huh. I actually already feel a bit better.
I did NOT see that coming! :)
So Ladies, and Gentlemen!, tell me what you love about yourself. It can be something small, it can be something big. It can be something physical or a part of your personality.
What do you LOVE about being you??
Wednesday, 23 April 2014
Gratitude Project - 18th-23rd April
Well, first things first - happy belated Easter!
We don't celebrate Easter in my house, but my boys are biiiig fans of the chocolate side of things! :)
Secondly, I had an ah-MAZE-ing night out! Here's me in the top I got from The Iconic:
It was so nice to put a face to all the names that Mr M mentions everyday... the fact that he introduced me all night as his "beautiful wife" didn't hurt either :)
But the loveliest thing I heard was, after being introduced, all his colleagues said the same thing: "whenever I ask Mr M about your kids, his face just lights up" All together now, AWWWW!
We chatted with everyone in the pub for hours, and were then ushered onto a bus and into a nightclub - the first time I have been in a nightclub in five years! I danced and danced and danced, and was horrified when all the kids were excited to hear songs that I was dancing to when they were first released 20 years ago!
It was awesome.
Mr M and I were home at a very respectable 12.50am, not in too bad a shape. And most glorious of all was the sleep-in the next day! Once again, a big YAY for grandparents!!
On the Easter Sunday, Mr M decided that he wanted to "do something" that day, so we took a road trip up through the Northern Beaches and ended up in Palm Beach. The sun was shining and the ocean sparkling, it was stunning!
On the Monday, Mr M and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. But given that we'd had such a epic (for us) night out, we were in no hurry to have a special "date night" for the occasion; there'll be plenty more to come, I'm sure :)
Then it was back to reality and work. Mr M is currently on a production break at the moment, which is actually fab for me; an extra pair of hands to help with the morning rush, means I get an extra 30-minutes in bed in the morning! Woo hoo!
Things I have been grateful for this long weekend:
1. The fact that it was a long weekend - four days off; one awesome night out, and hanging with my boys. Heaven!
2. The weather. I hope you had as glorious a weekend as we did!
3. Fresh flannel sheets on the bed - so comfy, so dangerous; it's a real struggle to get out of bed!
4. Family. We got to see both sides of our family over the long weekend, which meant much laughter all round. I am so SO thankful for the family I have!
We don't celebrate Easter in my house, but my boys are biiiig fans of the chocolate side of things! :)
Secondly, I had an ah-MAZE-ing night out! Here's me in the top I got from The Iconic:
It was so nice to put a face to all the names that Mr M mentions everyday... the fact that he introduced me all night as his "beautiful wife" didn't hurt either :)
But the loveliest thing I heard was, after being introduced, all his colleagues said the same thing: "whenever I ask Mr M about your kids, his face just lights up" All together now, AWWWW!
We chatted with everyone in the pub for hours, and were then ushered onto a bus and into a nightclub - the first time I have been in a nightclub in five years! I danced and danced and danced, and was horrified when all the kids were excited to hear songs that I was dancing to when they were first released 20 years ago!
It was awesome.
Mr M and I were home at a very respectable 12.50am, not in too bad a shape. And most glorious of all was the sleep-in the next day! Once again, a big YAY for grandparents!!
On the Easter Sunday, Mr M decided that he wanted to "do something" that day, so we took a road trip up through the Northern Beaches and ended up in Palm Beach. The sun was shining and the ocean sparkling, it was stunning!
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| {Who doesn't love the panoramic mode on the iPhone camera!} |
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| {Personally, I think this is one of the best photos I've ever taken!} |
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| {The last dip in the ocean for this season} |
On the Monday, Mr M and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. But given that we'd had such a epic (for us) night out, we were in no hurry to have a special "date night" for the occasion; there'll be plenty more to come, I'm sure :)
Then it was back to reality and work. Mr M is currently on a production break at the moment, which is actually fab for me; an extra pair of hands to help with the morning rush, means I get an extra 30-minutes in bed in the morning! Woo hoo!
Things I have been grateful for this long weekend:
1. The fact that it was a long weekend - four days off; one awesome night out, and hanging with my boys. Heaven!
2. The weather. I hope you had as glorious a weekend as we did!
3. Fresh flannel sheets on the bed - so comfy, so dangerous; it's a real struggle to get out of bed!
4. Family. We got to see both sides of our family over the long weekend, which meant much laughter all round. I am so SO thankful for the family I have!
What did you get up to over the long weekend?
Thursday, 3 April 2014
Gratitude Project - 3rd April
Just so you know, the assumption for my gratitude list is that I am always grateful for my two healthy, adorable, rambunctious, funny, irritating, happy, loving boys. Every day. No matter how much they tick me off, or make me long for the days when I could afford nice clothes/shoes...
{Seriously, these kids break my heart with their gorgeousness. Every. Single. Day}
Yes I can imagine life without them; but I don't want to ever be without them.
They might make me want to punch walls with their constant "Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy." But then something like this happens:
Today was Mac's swimming lesson, so I dropped Warrie off at day care before hand. As we were walking in, he stops, looks over his shoulder and says, "Where Mac? Mac gone?"
"Yes darling, Mac has a swimming lesson. He'll be back in a little while."
Cue a devastated face, tears and clutching my leg from my normally very independent little boy.
After swimming, as I pulled back up outside the centre, I turn to get Mac out of the car. He has a very sad expression. "Sweetheart, what's wrong!?"
"Mummy, I miss Warrie. Can I give him a cuddle when I go in?"
My heart melts with the love these to boys have for each other. And I know that I am blessed to have them.
And so it is a given that at the very way far top of my gratitude list is my two boys.
So, apart from my babies, the things I am grateful for today are:
1. Running with my bestie today. Well run-walking really, and mostly lots of chatting :) We've decided to make it a weekly thing, and I'm already looking forward to next week!
2. My slow cooker; so little effort for so much delicious reward!!
3. A decent TV series. A few of my favourite shows are: Rake, The Moodys, Offspring, Walking Dead, The Spoils of Babylon.
I am currently obsessed with the show Vikings... Ragnar Lothbrok (Travis Fimmel) really floats my boat.
We don't watch a lot of TV (mostly because there's never anything good on!) but thanks to Mr M, we're up to date with this fab series, and I am loving it!
What's your current favourite tv show? Do you have any recommendations?
Friday, 21 March 2014
Returning to business as usual
So it’s been a VERY busy two weeks – so much laughter,
talking, eating, drinking and general hanging out with my brother and his wife and
watching our children play together. It
was exhausting, elating and so SO good for my soul.
We mostly stayed at my parent’s house south of Sydney, but
we did venture out to a gorgeous South Coast beach for two nights. The best
thing about that (apart from two full days with just the two families), was
that all the kids were so exhausted after a day at the beach or running around
playgrounds that they were all in bed and asleep by 7.15. Which meant that we
were all able to sit in peace and quiet with a glass of wine and watch the moon
rise over the water. Bliss.
The other bonus of my two weeks off is that I had a forced break
from my personal social media habit. Some of it was self imposed, but mostly it
was because I had no WiFi and a rapidly dwindling data allowance!
The benefits of not being on social media for my mental
health have been fantastic. I wasn't constantly posting witty statuses or
pictures of my children, and then constantly checking for who had liked my
posts or who had made a comment – in short, I didn't spend the whole time
searching for a perceived “approval” from my friends.
I was still posting occasional pictures on Instagram, but I
spent the two weeks trying my very hardest to be present in the moment.
It’s hard though. On the one hand I wanted to watch every
moment that our children were interacting; watching the starts of bonds of
friendship between the four boys. But on the other hand, I also wanted to take
pictures of these special moments and record them for family members who
couldn't be with us.
It’s a fine line, one that I think I managed to balance
better than I had anticipated. Of course my obsession with Words With Friends
was another issue entirely!
Every evening, as I lay in bed, I thought about the Gratitude
Project post that I would have been making on my blog for the day. So even
though I wasn't writing it down for all to see, I was still going through the
process and appreciating everything that made up my days.
To be honest – pretty much every day ended with me being
grateful for having the opportunity to spend time with my brother and his
family, and to watch the four cousins interact.
The double bonus of my brother being over here, is that it’s
made Mr M and I decide to set a savings goal for a trip back to the UK. I’ll be
eligible for Long Service Leave in about 3 years, so we’re using that as a
starting point for departure dates as it means I’ll be able to take 7 or 8
weeks.
It’s been a long time since we last traveled proper. And
just quietly, the thought of having a trip to plan and a goal to meet has
boosted my happiness through the roof!
When was your last
big trip? Where did you go?
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Gratitude project - 22nd to 27th February
Sorry for the five days of silence - I was spending some wonderful time with my brother and his drop dead gorgeous family! And then I was back at work, trying to catch up before I have the next two weeks off to properly spend time with my bro...
I've been a bit narky the last few days. I'm not sure why, maybe it's a little "relapse"?? All I know is that poor Mr M and the kids can seem to do nothing right at the moment, and it makes me feel worse because I know that what I am perceiving as their "bad" behavior is all in my head.
I feel like I am so angry at everything and everyone on the inside, whilst at the same time having arguments with myself to clarify what it is that I can really be angry with and what it is that my brain is making up.
Meanwhile, on the outside I am trying desperately to make everyone think that I'm all ok. GAAAHHHH! It's freaking exhausting!
I have five days of gratitude to catch up on. Rather than list 15 things (three for each day), I am just going to do a short blanket list to cover what I have been grateful for. Let's face it, for most of that time I was with my brother, and I am so immensely grateful for that time with him that it probably counts for at least ten of the items I am grateful for :)
So, things I am thankful for:
1. My brother. Two and a half years (almost) since I last saw him... As small as the world can seem with the magic of the internet and Skype and Facetime, nothing, not a single damn things, is as wonderful as the physical person in front of you. Being able to see the subtle body language during a conversation, to see the laughter lines around eyes, to just cuddle him because I can.
I tell you what, someone was really looking out for me when they were dishing out brothers. I got the best one.
2. My nephews. Oh. Emm. Gee. Cutest kids ever! So clever and gorgeous, and cuddly and funny. Watching my two boys playing with their cousins was a sight that filled my heart with joy. I cannot wait for two weeks of watching them :)
3. Two days away from work. Well I think you can all understand why I'd be grateful for that! (apart from prattling on again about hanging with my bro!)
4. Mr M. He's been home poorly for the last two days with a nasty cough (it makes working on a TV set very difficult!). And he hasn't done a thing around the house; which has contributed to my feelings of anger, no doubt. But he has been very good about giving me space in the evenings. He's not hassling me, he's just loving me from a distance whilst I scowl my way through the evening. And then he holds me tight in bed without saying a word.
5. Running in the rain. Normally I avoid running if it's already raining before I leave. But today, I did it. And I got soaked! But I was running with a bestie, and we were having a wonderful child free catch up whilst exercising - it was brilliant! :)
I think that'll do for now. You guys get the gist - I'm so happy to see my bro, that everything else I am thankful for is a bonus :)
What have you been up to these last few days? What has jumped out at you as something to be truly grateful for?
I've been a bit narky the last few days. I'm not sure why, maybe it's a little "relapse"?? All I know is that poor Mr M and the kids can seem to do nothing right at the moment, and it makes me feel worse because I know that what I am perceiving as their "bad" behavior is all in my head.
I feel like I am so angry at everything and everyone on the inside, whilst at the same time having arguments with myself to clarify what it is that I can really be angry with and what it is that my brain is making up.
Meanwhile, on the outside I am trying desperately to make everyone think that I'm all ok. GAAAHHHH! It's freaking exhausting!
~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~
I have five days of gratitude to catch up on. Rather than list 15 things (three for each day), I am just going to do a short blanket list to cover what I have been grateful for. Let's face it, for most of that time I was with my brother, and I am so immensely grateful for that time with him that it probably counts for at least ten of the items I am grateful for :)
So, things I am thankful for:
1. My brother. Two and a half years (almost) since I last saw him... As small as the world can seem with the magic of the internet and Skype and Facetime, nothing, not a single damn things, is as wonderful as the physical person in front of you. Being able to see the subtle body language during a conversation, to see the laughter lines around eyes, to just cuddle him because I can.
I tell you what, someone was really looking out for me when they were dishing out brothers. I got the best one.
2. My nephews. Oh. Emm. Gee. Cutest kids ever! So clever and gorgeous, and cuddly and funny. Watching my two boys playing with their cousins was a sight that filled my heart with joy. I cannot wait for two weeks of watching them :)
3. Two days away from work. Well I think you can all understand why I'd be grateful for that! (apart from prattling on again about hanging with my bro!)
4. Mr M. He's been home poorly for the last two days with a nasty cough (it makes working on a TV set very difficult!). And he hasn't done a thing around the house; which has contributed to my feelings of anger, no doubt. But he has been very good about giving me space in the evenings. He's not hassling me, he's just loving me from a distance whilst I scowl my way through the evening. And then he holds me tight in bed without saying a word.
5. Running in the rain. Normally I avoid running if it's already raining before I leave. But today, I did it. And I got soaked! But I was running with a bestie, and we were having a wonderful child free catch up whilst exercising - it was brilliant! :)
I think that'll do for now. You guys get the gist - I'm so happy to see my bro, that everything else I am thankful for is a bonus :)
What have you been up to these last few days? What has jumped out at you as something to be truly grateful for?
Wednesday, 12 February 2014
Gratitude Project - 12th February
A very non-eventful day - yay!
Had a chat with Mum who has been thinking about ways to combat my funk.
One of her suggestions was to give up FaceBook... The fact that even thinking about it makes me a bit anxious is proof to me that I may have a problem. Not that that's unusual these days! We'll see, I've already reduced my time on there (I've reclaimed my weekends!) so maybe it won't be as hard as I think...
Things I'm grateful for today:
1. My Mum. For taking the time out to think of ways that I can proactively get myself back to a happy place
2. 30 solid minutes of me time after work; I was able to catch up on some overdue magazine reading!
3. Right now, as I write this, my Husband is softly snoring next to me (he'd probably just call it breathing!)... His arm is wrapped around my waist. I feel so loved and protected like this. I feel safe.
What have you done for yourself today?
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
Gratitude Project - 11th February
On my way home from work, there was an accident in a two lane tunnel that I usually drive through. One of the lanes was closed.
I was going to continue on as per usual, but then I was passed by an ambulance and a police car in quick succession. I decided that I didn't want to drive past an accident that required an ambulance, so I turned off the motorway.
Shortly after I turned off, I was passed by two more ambulances and two more police cars. Then I heard on the radio that it was an accident with a semi trailer and a mini bus, and six people had been injured. I was so relieved that I had chosen to turn off. Driving past such an accident would have been awful.
I haven't watched or read any news since I got home, so I don't know how serious the injuries were. I hope everyone involved was ok.
But hearing about the accident made me think about my gratitudes for today:
1. A bit obvious, but I am grateful that I had a safe journey home from work.
2. I am grateful that I got to hold my boys tight and run around a playground with them this evening. I hope that the six injured people were able to hold their loved ones tonight.
3. Every evening, but more so tonight, I am grateful that my Husband came home safe.
Life is fleeting. In an instant, things can change drastically.
Hold your loved ones tight.
Be kind and gentle to others.
Above all, be safe.
Wednesday, 17 July 2013
My wish for the Royal birth
I have always wanted to be a princess.
I am probably the most un-princessy princess you'll come across, but as a 12-year old marrying a prince was high on my list of things to do. Probably the same for many a 12-year old girl!
But Kate Middleton was the one who ended up living my dream... and as I watched the Royal Nuptials whilst celebrating my own honeymoon, I will admit to a twinge of jealousy (mostly because I would have loved to have had even 1/1000th of the money spent on their wedding; we could have had a live band then!)
Fast forward just over two years, and now everyone is waiting with baited breath for the newest addition to the Royal Household.
I am probably the most un-princessy princess you'll come across, but as a 12-year old marrying a prince was high on my list of things to do. Probably the same for many a 12-year old girl!
But Kate Middleton was the one who ended up living my dream... and as I watched the Royal Nuptials whilst celebrating my own honeymoon, I will admit to a twinge of jealousy (mostly because I would have loved to have had even 1/1000th of the money spent on their wedding; we could have had a live band then!)
Fast forward just over two years, and now everyone is waiting with baited breath for the newest addition to the Royal Household.
This time, there is not even a hint of jealousy, only sympathy.
My #2 was two weeks overdue (such fun times!), and it was bad enough having family, friends and random strangers asking me when the baby was due, regularly interspersed with the "you're huge, shouldn't you have had that baby by now?" question.
I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for the Duchess to be heavily pregnant and effectively forced into confinement, if for no other reason than to avoid the press! Let alone to read all the speculation about her due date and whether she was overdue or not.
My #2 was two weeks overdue (such fun times!), and it was bad enough having family, friends and random strangers asking me when the baby was due, regularly interspersed with the "you're huge, shouldn't you have had that baby by now?" question.
I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for the Duchess to be heavily pregnant and effectively forced into confinement, if for no other reason than to avoid the press! Let alone to read all the speculation about her due date and whether she was overdue or not.
And now, she's in "early labour" and the world is on tenterhooks for the arrival of the third in line to the throne. The press camped outside the hospital, waiting for the announcement of the newest Prince or Princess.
What pressure for a first time mum!
But my main sympathy lies in the days ahead; those first heady days of being a new mum, of getting to know your baby outside of your belly, of falling in love with the tiny human being that you created.
When both my sons were born, those first few hours of it being just me, Husband and the baby were the most private and precious moments I have ever experienced. My babies were out, and they all mine.
So I can't begin to imagine how it must feel, knowing that as soon as this baby arrives it will essentially become public property.
If I were Kate, I'd be pretending that I had been in labour for 36hrs, just to have some cherished normal "brand new parents" time with the baby and William.
I'm sure (I hope!!) that the press will continue to keep a respectable distance from the new family.
I hope that the little one is given the opportunity to grow up away from the glare as much as possible.
But more than anything else, I hope that Prince William and Duchess Catherine are given the privacy to enjoy every new moment with their baby.
Wednesday, 17 April 2013
Love is in the air
Last weekend, my bestest best friend in the whole entire world got married.
She was stunning, the day was amazing, and I wept with breath-taking happiness when I first saw her in her wedding dress as she came down the aisle.
As is the norm with such emotionally charged events, (and probably because my second anniversary is this weekend!) I reminisced on own my wedding day.
The weather (the one day of glorious and warm autumnal sunshine, in a windy week of cold rain), the venue (a small non-denominational chapel with a stained glass window looking out over the ocean), my dress (a column dress, off the shoulder, just like the one I had seen in a perfume advert when I was 18), my love on display for all to see.
She was worried about being the centre of attention, and I totally get that; it is one of my biggest fears.
Yet on my wedding day - after months and weeks of being scared to stand up in front of 80 people - I could not wait. I wanted so badly to be walking down that aisle, to be standing next to my beloved and to be telling everyone that he was the man I wanted to share my life with.
I remember sitting in the car on the way to the chapel, mentally willing my step-dad to break all the road rules just to get me there all the quicker :)
And when I got to the chapel and began my walk down the aisle... well there was nobody else in that room but my Husband-to-be. I didn't notice anyone until about half way through the ceremony; not even my Little Monster, who was stripped down to his nappy because he was so sick! (which I felt awful about afterwards!)
Listening to their ceremony, I couldn't help but to remember mine.
Husband and I didn't even hear what our celebrant was saying; we were to busy gazing at and whispering sweet everythings to each other. We only knew that it was our turn to speak because suddenly she was standing behind us with microphone in hand, ready to prompt us through our vows.
When my BFF and her husband kissed and were officially announced as the newly weds, I was flooded with the same feelings that I had when we were finally officially Husband and Wife:
Euphoria.
A sense of shock (well, I had waited eight years!)
Utter satisfaction and completion
Thankfulness - it was finally over and the party could begin!! :)
As I sat in the autumn sunlight last weekend, watching my most cherished friend experience her most amazing day yet, I felt somewhat forlorn that my big day was done and dusted.
So I glanced up at Husband, smiled shyly and held his hand. And I asked him if we could do it all again, if we could stand up in front of all our family and friends and reconfirm to the world that he was mine, and I was his.
He smiled back at me and said, "Maybe in 8 years time...."
She was stunning, the day was amazing, and I wept with breath-taking happiness when I first saw her in her wedding dress as she came down the aisle.
As is the norm with such emotionally charged events, (and probably because my second anniversary is this weekend!) I reminisced on own my wedding day.
The weather (the one day of glorious and warm autumnal sunshine, in a windy week of cold rain), the venue (a small non-denominational chapel with a stained glass window looking out over the ocean), my dress (a column dress, off the shoulder, just like the one I had seen in a perfume advert when I was 18), my love on display for all to see.
She was worried about being the centre of attention, and I totally get that; it is one of my biggest fears.
Yet on my wedding day - after months and weeks of being scared to stand up in front of 80 people - I could not wait. I wanted so badly to be walking down that aisle, to be standing next to my beloved and to be telling everyone that he was the man I wanted to share my life with.
I remember sitting in the car on the way to the chapel, mentally willing my step-dad to break all the road rules just to get me there all the quicker :)
And when I got to the chapel and began my walk down the aisle... well there was nobody else in that room but my Husband-to-be. I didn't notice anyone until about half way through the ceremony; not even my Little Monster, who was stripped down to his nappy because he was so sick! (which I felt awful about afterwards!)
Listening to their ceremony, I couldn't help but to remember mine.
Husband and I didn't even hear what our celebrant was saying; we were to busy gazing at and whispering sweet everythings to each other. We only knew that it was our turn to speak because suddenly she was standing behind us with microphone in hand, ready to prompt us through our vows.
When my BFF and her husband kissed and were officially announced as the newly weds, I was flooded with the same feelings that I had when we were finally officially Husband and Wife:
Euphoria.
A sense of shock (well, I had waited eight years!)
Utter satisfaction and completion
Thankfulness - it was finally over and the party could begin!! :)
As I sat in the autumn sunlight last weekend, watching my most cherished friend experience her most amazing day yet, I felt somewhat forlorn that my big day was done and dusted.
So I glanced up at Husband, smiled shyly and held his hand. And I asked him if we could do it all again, if we could stand up in front of all our family and friends and reconfirm to the world that he was mine, and I was his.
He smiled back at me and said, "Maybe in 8 years time...."
What are your memories of your Best Day Ever? Would you like to relive that day?
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
We were meant to be
Last night, Husband said probably the most romantic thing ever to me.
I looked at him - "But we did....."
Husband had been living and working in Fiji for about a year. We'd been taking turns to visit each other for a long weekend about every 10- to 12-weeks, but our relationship was mainly conducted via telephone, texts and emails.
My last visit to Fiji hadn't been a good one. In the few weeks leading up to the trip, contact with Husband had become less frequent and, when we did talk, it was very strained.
I spent the majority of our weekend at the beautiful Wananavu resort (quite possibly one of the most romantic places in the world!) with leaking eyes.... We were tense and stilted.
The dreaded phrase 'it's not you, it's me' had reared it's ugly head.
By the time I left, we had come to some sort of strange impasse. We were in limbo. No "issues" had been discussed, we just knew that something wasn't right.
About a week later I got an email at work: "Call me when you get home, we need to talk."
Well you just know that isn't going to be a good conversation.
A few hours later, I hung up the phone in floods of tears. Whilst we hadn't actually broken up, things were not looking good.
During our hour long phone call, Husband had told me that he didn't know what he wanted anymore; he wasn't even sure if he wanted a relationship.
Of course, looking back, and after subsequent conversations with Husband, it's clear to me (us) now that he was a man nearing a crisis. He was just 30; living away from family and friends, and a newly appointed GM dealing with some of the most stressful workplace issues he'd ever come across, all without any "on hand" means of support (from his employer as well as family and friends)
Somehow (and to this day, I still don't know how I managed it! I put it down to the counselling course I had completed a few year previously), somehow I found the courage inside to tell him that it was ok.
I told him that I loved him, and I wanted what was best for him. I told him I could ease some of his stress by giving him breathing space; I wouldn't email or text or call until he told me he was ready.
He had already booked a flight home for the end of August. So we agreed to see how things went until then. He thanked me for being so loving and understanding; he thanked me for being such a good friend.
We both cried. My heart broke.
During that time, as hard as it was, I was true to my word; I gave him space. Though every day my heart ached, and I wondered if we would make it.
It was Husband who initiated all the contact... In fact, during that time he emailed or texted me more than he had in the previous 6-weeks. I tried to keep it light; I didn't want to give him anything more to run away from.
It was a rough time, no denying.
And unlike me, I knew that he had no-one to talk to; no-one to vent about his stresses, no-one to talk through his thought processes... He ended up doing that with me, in regards to work, as we had done for the last 18-months. But I knew there was no-one for him to turn to personally, and it made me so sad for him.
He hadn't told his family. I was still having weekly dinners with them, and his Mum would always ask if he was ok. Three weeks into the ordeal, I finally broke and told her. Of course, she knew something was wrong, but he was resolutely avoiding the topic with her
Even his friends didn't know what was happening. Weeks later he told me that he hadn't said anything to them, because he knew they would give him a bollocking.
I knew that too, which was why I hadn't said anything to any of his friends. I just told them that he was a bit stressed and could do with a friendly ear.
I wanted him to work through it without people pressuring him....
I wanted him to choose me because he wanted to be with me, not because his friends and family had told him to be with me.
Soon. it was the day of his return. I went to the airport to wait for him in a state of turmoil; I was excited to see him again, but terrified as I knew that this was make or break.
Then I saw him, and he looked happier than he did when I had last seen him in Fiji.
And then he saw me; and his face lit up, and in that one brief moment, I knew, JUST KNEW, that we would make it.
"It was just like the old saying: 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours...'" I said last night. "In order to keep you, I had to let you go, even though it broke my heart to do it."
He told me: "Babe, we were always meant to be together"We were driving home from our touch footy game; our two boys in the back, talking about how other people handle their relationships. He made some comment about how he had never been in a relationship where they broke up and got back together.
I looked at him - "But we did....."
~~~~~~~~~~
July 2008Husband had been living and working in Fiji for about a year. We'd been taking turns to visit each other for a long weekend about every 10- to 12-weeks, but our relationship was mainly conducted via telephone, texts and emails.
My last visit to Fiji hadn't been a good one. In the few weeks leading up to the trip, contact with Husband had become less frequent and, when we did talk, it was very strained.
I spent the majority of our weekend at the beautiful Wananavu resort (quite possibly one of the most romantic places in the world!) with leaking eyes.... We were tense and stilted.
The dreaded phrase 'it's not you, it's me' had reared it's ugly head.
By the time I left, we had come to some sort of strange impasse. We were in limbo. No "issues" had been discussed, we just knew that something wasn't right.
About a week later I got an email at work: "Call me when you get home, we need to talk."
Well you just know that isn't going to be a good conversation.
A few hours later, I hung up the phone in floods of tears. Whilst we hadn't actually broken up, things were not looking good.
During our hour long phone call, Husband had told me that he didn't know what he wanted anymore; he wasn't even sure if he wanted a relationship.
Of course, looking back, and after subsequent conversations with Husband, it's clear to me (us) now that he was a man nearing a crisis. He was just 30; living away from family and friends, and a newly appointed GM dealing with some of the most stressful workplace issues he'd ever come across, all without any "on hand" means of support (from his employer as well as family and friends)
Somehow (and to this day, I still don't know how I managed it! I put it down to the counselling course I had completed a few year previously), somehow I found the courage inside to tell him that it was ok.
I told him that I loved him, and I wanted what was best for him. I told him I could ease some of his stress by giving him breathing space; I wouldn't email or text or call until he told me he was ready.
He had already booked a flight home for the end of August. So we agreed to see how things went until then. He thanked me for being so loving and understanding; he thanked me for being such a good friend.
We both cried. My heart broke.
During that time, as hard as it was, I was true to my word; I gave him space. Though every day my heart ached, and I wondered if we would make it.
It was Husband who initiated all the contact... In fact, during that time he emailed or texted me more than he had in the previous 6-weeks. I tried to keep it light; I didn't want to give him anything more to run away from.
It was a rough time, no denying.
And unlike me, I knew that he had no-one to talk to; no-one to vent about his stresses, no-one to talk through his thought processes... He ended up doing that with me, in regards to work, as we had done for the last 18-months. But I knew there was no-one for him to turn to personally, and it made me so sad for him.
He hadn't told his family. I was still having weekly dinners with them, and his Mum would always ask if he was ok. Three weeks into the ordeal, I finally broke and told her. Of course, she knew something was wrong, but he was resolutely avoiding the topic with her
Even his friends didn't know what was happening. Weeks later he told me that he hadn't said anything to them, because he knew they would give him a bollocking.
I knew that too, which was why I hadn't said anything to any of his friends. I just told them that he was a bit stressed and could do with a friendly ear.
I wanted him to work through it without people pressuring him....
I wanted him to choose me because he wanted to be with me, not because his friends and family had told him to be with me.
Soon. it was the day of his return. I went to the airport to wait for him in a state of turmoil; I was excited to see him again, but terrified as I knew that this was make or break.
Then I saw him, and he looked happier than he did when I had last seen him in Fiji.
And then he saw me; and his face lit up, and in that one brief moment, I knew, JUST KNEW, that we would make it.
~~~~~~~~~~
And that's when he said: "Babe, we were always meant to be together"
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
The birth of my Even Littler Monster
{Warning - this is a bit of a novella! The whole thing is still very fresh in my mind, so I remember all the details!}
11 weeks ago, I welcomed my second son into the world.
11 weeks ago, I welcomed my second son into the world.
I had had a very uneventful pregnancy (the best kind!), and was expecting a very uneventful delivery. After the birth of my first Monster, I had even more desire to try for a natural water birth... I was convinced that with the right mental attitude, I could do it.
40-weeks came and went with no sign of things kicking off. I had my appointment with my midwife who did a stretch & sweep to see if we could move things along. We also discussed induction, but I politely declined. I had maintained throughout my pregnancy that I did not want to be induced, unless I absolutely had too.
41-weeks came... and went, again with not even a hint of Baby making an appearance. Once again I headed off to the midwife, who, once again!, did a stretch & sweep. Again we discussed induction, and this time I thought long and hard before declining... I certainly didn't want to be pregnant any more (I was a whopping 122cm around!!) but I really wanted to give Nature a chance to get things started before I let the medico's take over.
As per hospital policy, my midwife booked me in to be induced the following week, but we were both certain that Baby would come before then. In the meantime, I was trying all sorts of alternatives - acupuncture, acupressure massage, spicy foods, long walks (or waddles really!) and even sex.... nothing.
So Tuesday morning I woke, knowing that it was my last morning as a mother of one. I dropped the Little Monster at daycare, and cherished the last cuddle with a belly between us. I also had a little weep as I walked home, knowing that his world was about to be turned upside down.
As Husband drove me to the hospital, I felt little twinges; nothing too painful and I put it down to nerves.
After a six hour wait, a midwife finally induced me and announced that I was already 1cm dilated... so those twinges were probably the start of things to come!
About an hour later, I told Husband to go home... the gel wasn't guaranteed to work straight away, and even if it did, I wanted him to be well rested in case it was another marathon event like the last time!
At 10pm, the contractions kicked off. Somehow (probably because of the panadine forte!) I was able to sort of sleep between them, and dozily moan the pain away. At about 5am, they were coming much quicker and were far more intense. It was during one of these contractions that I was moaning like a... well, like a woman in labour!, when a midwife came in to check up on me because of the noise; apparently they hadn't heard me all night, and assumed that the gel hadn't worked and that I was asleep!
After a quick check, she declared me to be 6cm dilated and ready to go to the delivery suite (because I had been induced, I wasn't able to have my preference of the Birth Centre; but I had been assured that a water birth was still possible). At this point I called Husband, and told him to get his arse to the hospital pronto!
The three minute walk to delivery suite took an age, and I had three big contractions on the way. As soon as I got into the room they suggested I have a shower to help manage the pain. I don't think I had ever moved so quickly in my life! I was stripped and in the shower in seconds flat. And I have to admit, I was amazed at how much relief the water gave me - yes it still hurt like buggery, but I felt that I might be able to cope.... Two minutes and two huge contractions later, I changed my mind.
I turned to Husband and my midwife and told them I wanted an epidural. Whilst the midwife got the ball rolling, I asked Husband to coach me through two more contractions, just to make sure that an epidural really was what I wanted... and it was!
I managed to waddle to the bed and somehow climb on it so the midwife could check my progression. During the hour that I had been in the shower, I had gone from 6cm to 8cm and was starting to show signs that birth was imminent.
My midwife suggested that as I was so close to pushing, it might actually be quicker for me to give birth naturally (an epidural could have slowed things down)... As a natural birth had been my initial desire, I thought why not - let's power through this! So she broke my waters as a way of helping my body move things along.
Then midwife told me that Baby had done a poo, and that she was going to check Baby'a heart rate. By this point, an Obstetrician had come in (the same one that delivered the Little Monster! A coincidence, and very comforting to me) and he was poking around and checking things out.
All the while I am lying on the bed contracting and writhing in agony, desperately regretting that I did not insist on an epidural.
Then the midwife says that she can't differentiate between my heart rate and Baby's. I assume that it's because my heart rate is so high, thanks to all the work my body is doing.... Nope. Baby's heart rate is dropping to somewhere between 80-90 bpm. Very not cool, when they consider a baby with a heart rate of 110 to be in distress.
The OB looks at me and says "Baby has to come out now. We are going to do a vontouse delivery". That's ok, I thought, I've done this before I can do it again.
My midwife offers me the gas, and I start sucking for all I'm worth. This time, thankfully!, it works - probably because I know it's all the pain relief I'm going to get, so I make it work.
The vontouse is fitted, the OB pulls whilst I push and.... the vontouse pops off Baby's head. The OB apologises, and they try again.
Once again, the OB pulls with all his strength whilst I push with all of mine and... the vontouse pops off again.
There is a discussion, and it is agreed that Baby's shoulder is stuck behind my pubic bone. So they ask me to push through the next contraction, whilst someone is pushing on my pubic bone trying to dislodge the shoulder.
Suddenly, Baby's heart rate drops again. An emergency button is pressed and all of a sudden there are 10 people in the room (not including Husband and I!)
The OB looks at me again. "Melissa, we have to get Baby out as quickly as possible. I am going to do a forceps delivery. I am so sorry, but this is going to be very painful."
I nod and say "do whatever it takes", then suck on the gas like it was my lifeline.
(After the birth, I was told that his head was only 2cm from being born when this happened, so an emergency cesarean was not an option)
I cannot begin to describe the pain of having the forceps "installed" whilst contracting, and my whole body pushing and pushing, trying to get my baby out; I felt like I was being ripped in half.
The OB coached me through the next contraction, and the whole room was telling me to push and yelling words encouragement. Husband was holding my hand with tears on his face, and cheering me on the loudest.
The OB tugged on Baby's head, a midwife pushed down on Baby's shoulder, my body convulsed.... Still nothing.
Next thing I know, I have two midwives haul my knees up to my ears. A midwife is still pushing on Baby's shoulder, the OB is pulling with all his might, and I scream as I contract and push.
My Even Littler Monster is finally born!! (From my waters being broken to my Monster being born, 30-minutes have passed... all of this drama has taken a mere half an hour; it felt like a lifetime!)
He is put straight on my chest and, fearing a tragedy, I cry "Is my baby ok? Is my baby ok?!"
Then he screams at me, angry at having been ripped from his comfortable room.... And it is the best, most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
He passes his Apgar test with flying colours - he scored 9 at both 1 and 5 minutes.
The OB says to me that he cannot believe how good my baby's vitals are after such a traumatic entry into the world. He tells me that if my baby hadn't been such a big boy (he was 4.325kg!), it could have been a very different outcome.
The OB, bless him, apologises again for my body being subjected to such a delivery without an epidural; "we would never normally do a forceps delivery without an epidural - there was just no time, we had to get him out."
I tell him I don't care; he did what he had to do in order to get my baby out safely, and alive.
I have been cut and have a 2nd degree tear, I have lost about 800mls of blood, but my baby boy has a set of lungs on him that are amazing. And despite his rather dramatic and almost violent birth, he has only a small mark on his cheek from the forceps and no marks at all from the failed vontouse attempts. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to be holding this precious little boy.
11-weeks on, I have healed physically.
Occasionally I have a memory of his birth, and I wonder how I managed it. I had a natural birth, but certainly not the way I could have ever imagined it!
Only a few times have I thought about "what could have been"... I look at my little boy and I start to imagine how different I could be feeling,
But I stop myself. Why bother distressing myself with an image of something that never happened?
Instead, I focus on my beautiful baby, who has added another depth to my being (as in "be"-ing). He rocks my world.
And no matter how many ways he will find to tick me off over the years to come (and if his big brother is anything to go by, there will be a myriad of them!), I will always be grateful for his safe delivery - and the people who made it happen
41-weeks came... and went, again with not even a hint of Baby making an appearance. Once again I headed off to the midwife, who, once again!, did a stretch & sweep. Again we discussed induction, and this time I thought long and hard before declining... I certainly didn't want to be pregnant any more (I was a whopping 122cm around!!) but I really wanted to give Nature a chance to get things started before I let the medico's take over.
As per hospital policy, my midwife booked me in to be induced the following week, but we were both certain that Baby would come before then. In the meantime, I was trying all sorts of alternatives - acupuncture, acupressure massage, spicy foods, long walks (or waddles really!) and even sex.... nothing.
So Tuesday morning I woke, knowing that it was my last morning as a mother of one. I dropped the Little Monster at daycare, and cherished the last cuddle with a belly between us. I also had a little weep as I walked home, knowing that his world was about to be turned upside down.
As Husband drove me to the hospital, I felt little twinges; nothing too painful and I put it down to nerves.
After a six hour wait, a midwife finally induced me and announced that I was already 1cm dilated... so those twinges were probably the start of things to come!
About an hour later, I told Husband to go home... the gel wasn't guaranteed to work straight away, and even if it did, I wanted him to be well rested in case it was another marathon event like the last time!
At 10pm, the contractions kicked off. Somehow (probably because of the panadine forte!) I was able to sort of sleep between them, and dozily moan the pain away. At about 5am, they were coming much quicker and were far more intense. It was during one of these contractions that I was moaning like a... well, like a woman in labour!, when a midwife came in to check up on me because of the noise; apparently they hadn't heard me all night, and assumed that the gel hadn't worked and that I was asleep!
After a quick check, she declared me to be 6cm dilated and ready to go to the delivery suite (because I had been induced, I wasn't able to have my preference of the Birth Centre; but I had been assured that a water birth was still possible). At this point I called Husband, and told him to get his arse to the hospital pronto!
~~~~~~~~
The three minute walk to delivery suite took an age, and I had three big contractions on the way. As soon as I got into the room they suggested I have a shower to help manage the pain. I don't think I had ever moved so quickly in my life! I was stripped and in the shower in seconds flat. And I have to admit, I was amazed at how much relief the water gave me - yes it still hurt like buggery, but I felt that I might be able to cope.... Two minutes and two huge contractions later, I changed my mind.
I turned to Husband and my midwife and told them I wanted an epidural. Whilst the midwife got the ball rolling, I asked Husband to coach me through two more contractions, just to make sure that an epidural really was what I wanted... and it was!
I managed to waddle to the bed and somehow climb on it so the midwife could check my progression. During the hour that I had been in the shower, I had gone from 6cm to 8cm and was starting to show signs that birth was imminent.
My midwife suggested that as I was so close to pushing, it might actually be quicker for me to give birth naturally (an epidural could have slowed things down)... As a natural birth had been my initial desire, I thought why not - let's power through this! So she broke my waters as a way of helping my body move things along.
Then midwife told me that Baby had done a poo, and that she was going to check Baby'a heart rate. By this point, an Obstetrician had come in (the same one that delivered the Little Monster! A coincidence, and very comforting to me) and he was poking around and checking things out.
All the while I am lying on the bed contracting and writhing in agony, desperately regretting that I did not insist on an epidural.
Then the midwife says that she can't differentiate between my heart rate and Baby's. I assume that it's because my heart rate is so high, thanks to all the work my body is doing.... Nope. Baby's heart rate is dropping to somewhere between 80-90 bpm. Very not cool, when they consider a baby with a heart rate of 110 to be in distress.
The OB looks at me and says "Baby has to come out now. We are going to do a vontouse delivery". That's ok, I thought, I've done this before I can do it again.
My midwife offers me the gas, and I start sucking for all I'm worth. This time, thankfully!, it works - probably because I know it's all the pain relief I'm going to get, so I make it work.
The vontouse is fitted, the OB pulls whilst I push and.... the vontouse pops off Baby's head. The OB apologises, and they try again.
Once again, the OB pulls with all his strength whilst I push with all of mine and... the vontouse pops off again.
There is a discussion, and it is agreed that Baby's shoulder is stuck behind my pubic bone. So they ask me to push through the next contraction, whilst someone is pushing on my pubic bone trying to dislodge the shoulder.
Suddenly, Baby's heart rate drops again. An emergency button is pressed and all of a sudden there are 10 people in the room (not including Husband and I!)
The OB looks at me again. "Melissa, we have to get Baby out as quickly as possible. I am going to do a forceps delivery. I am so sorry, but this is going to be very painful."
I nod and say "do whatever it takes", then suck on the gas like it was my lifeline.
(After the birth, I was told that his head was only 2cm from being born when this happened, so an emergency cesarean was not an option)
I cannot begin to describe the pain of having the forceps "installed" whilst contracting, and my whole body pushing and pushing, trying to get my baby out; I felt like I was being ripped in half.
The OB coached me through the next contraction, and the whole room was telling me to push and yelling words encouragement. Husband was holding my hand with tears on his face, and cheering me on the loudest.
The OB tugged on Baby's head, a midwife pushed down on Baby's shoulder, my body convulsed.... Still nothing.
Next thing I know, I have two midwives haul my knees up to my ears. A midwife is still pushing on Baby's shoulder, the OB is pulling with all his might, and I scream as I contract and push.
My Even Littler Monster is finally born!! (From my waters being broken to my Monster being born, 30-minutes have passed... all of this drama has taken a mere half an hour; it felt like a lifetime!)
He is put straight on my chest and, fearing a tragedy, I cry "Is my baby ok? Is my baby ok?!"
Then he screams at me, angry at having been ripped from his comfortable room.... And it is the best, most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
He passes his Apgar test with flying colours - he scored 9 at both 1 and 5 minutes.
The OB says to me that he cannot believe how good my baby's vitals are after such a traumatic entry into the world. He tells me that if my baby hadn't been such a big boy (he was 4.325kg!), it could have been a very different outcome.
The OB, bless him, apologises again for my body being subjected to such a delivery without an epidural; "we would never normally do a forceps delivery without an epidural - there was just no time, we had to get him out."
I tell him I don't care; he did what he had to do in order to get my baby out safely, and alive.
I have been cut and have a 2nd degree tear, I have lost about 800mls of blood, but my baby boy has a set of lungs on him that are amazing. And despite his rather dramatic and almost violent birth, he has only a small mark on his cheek from the forceps and no marks at all from the failed vontouse attempts. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to be holding this precious little boy.
~~~~~~~~
11-weeks on, I have healed physically.
Occasionally I have a memory of his birth, and I wonder how I managed it. I had a natural birth, but certainly not the way I could have ever imagined it!
Only a few times have I thought about "what could have been"... I look at my little boy and I start to imagine how different I could be feeling,
But I stop myself. Why bother distressing myself with an image of something that never happened?
Instead, I focus on my beautiful baby, who has added another depth to my being (as in "be"-ing). He rocks my world.
And no matter how many ways he will find to tick me off over the years to come (and if his big brother is anything to go by, there will be a myriad of them!), I will always be grateful for his safe delivery - and the people who made it happen
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
It's a gusher!
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| Not my cupboard, but possibly it's twin! :) |
But here I am; Newbie is asleep, and rather than sit on the kitchen floor, I've decided to make the most of the quiet time.
What can I say, Procrastination is my middle name! :)
Today Newbie is 8-weeks old.
The other day, the Little Monster described him as a happy and smiling baby to his daycare ladies, and he was 100% right.
Sure Newbie cries, and I often wonder what on earth for - he's been fed, changed, burped, cuddled, swaddled, etc, etc, etc... But generally he is a happy, smiley baby.
And he is {mostly!} a chillaxed baby, which I put down to Husband and I being much more relaxed this time around. I don't panic the moment he cries, and I don't freak out when he won't go to sleep when he's "supposed" to.
Newbie has been less of an intrusion on Husband and I's "couple time"; and I don't mean that we are doing the horizontal mambo all the time!
Rather, we are able to see past each other as just a "mother" or a "father" - we can still see each other as an individual, as the person who the we fell in love with.
For me, when the Little Monster came along my world was so intensely rocked that I just didn't know how to be anything other than Mummy, let alone to be "me" again or a lover ... I certainly couldn't imagine how Husband would ever see me as a sex bomb again!
Then there was the factor of loving someone other than Husband... The shock of an unconditional love that was so intense, right from the get-go. I still get that heady, vertigo like feeling when I look at my Little Monster; and I feel exactly the same for Newbie
One of my biggest fears during this pregnancy was how on earth I would be able to love another child the way I love the Little Monster. Parents with more than one child would tell me "You just do, there is the space for it", but without explaining how there was that space... and it really didn't put my mind at ease.
Then Newbie arrived. It's like suddenly my heart is the size of the universe... unfathomable and never ending. And I realised that I SO have the capacity to love more than one child :)
It still amazes me, this crazy little thing called love; and the capacity the heart has for such different types of love...
For example, I LOVE chocolate. But that is such a feeble version of the love I have for my (and Husbands) family. Which in turn is a vastly different kind of love for my Husband; whom I love and adore with every fiber of my being.
All I can say is, I am one lucky lady to have such amazing love in my life :)
{images from here and here}
Friday, 24 February 2012
A dawing realisation
I've been a bit slack with writing in my Gratitude Book... I was having so much fun during our Christmas holiday that I kept forgetting to write in it.
Every night since we've come home, I look at the book sitting on my bedside table just waiting for my return.
And every night, I turn off my light without making an entry.
But this morning as I walked into work after dropping the Little Monster off at daycare, I suddenly realised exactly WHY I should start writing in it again...
I am 28 weeks pregnant, and I need to be writing down everything I feel about this pregnancy; the good and the bad.
At around 9-weeks, staving off yet another wave of nausea (and a week after I realised that being pregnant again meant I was going to have to GIVE BIRTH again - eek!!), I turned to Husband and stated, "This is it. Two is enough; no more children..."
To which Husband agreed.
About 3 weeks ago, I hit the I'm-so-totally-over-being-pregnant phase (only 11 weeks early!) and claimed to Husband, "Ugh. I'm sick of being fat. I want my body back!"
Again, to which Husband agreed.... not to the "I'm fat" part!, but that he wants me to be back to normal, back to being me. Which I'm guessing doesn't involve me being a host to a not so tiny parasite, or inhaling my food without taking a breath, or falling asleep on the sofa at 8pm....
But this morning, I had a far more profound realisation - this will most likely be my last pregnancy.
This realisation made me both sad and determined.Sad, because this will probably be the last time that I carry and grow a baby.
The last time that I feel the first flutters through to the full on belly stretching of movement.
The last time I will ask my body to put itself through the paces that nature intended.
Determined, because I have not been as appreciative of this pregnancy as I was the first... I have been almost blase about whole thing, really.
And because despite all my whinging, I do love being pregnant.
I love feeling the baby move and guessing what baby body part is poking me where (usually a double whammy of a punch to the bladder and a kick to the lungs).
I love the freedom to go back for seconds without caring what other people think.
I love my maternity jeans!
I love watching my LM kiss my belly, and whisper "Morning Baby".
So, rather than complaining about how I can't walk 20m without huffing and puffing like a steam train; or how badly I am sleeping because the Baby keeps moving; or the agony of waking up with a leg cramp in the middle of the night...
Instead of all of those things, I am going to embrace the remaining 12 weeks of my pregnancy:
- I will cherish each internal kick and punch.
- I will celebrate the fact that my body is so freaking amazing at the job it does of growing our Baby.
- I will write in my Gratitude book every night, of just how lucky and grateful I am that I have a beautiful healthy son, and how excited (and terrified!) I am with the imminent arrival of our new child.
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What sudden realisations have you had recently? Were they enough to change your way of thinking?
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