The dog is not a rolemodel!!

Alfie woke up early this morning and as a consequence has been a grizzly little mard-arse all the live long day.

He cheered up for one teeny tiny window just after lunch, and that was when Harry sauntered in to help clean up some stray leftovers.

Alfie very helpfully pointed out to Harry where he had dropped some potato and beef and then, THEN he did something so revolting, so utterly gross, it not only took me several moments for it to sink into my head, it took several more before I finally spluttered out an outraged ALFIEHARRYSTOPPIT!!!!!

My son licked the highchair alongside the dog.

I'm not even joking.

Part of me wishes he had eaten worms instead, somehow that would be less gross.

Hitchin' a Ride

So, what do you do with a running rucksack when the bladder gets nasty?

You turn it into an Alfie rucksack!!

I took some patches off an old top and sewed them on in my slightly cock-eyed fashion, and I love the end result.

We are going back to Gib soon to see the family and I'm going to fill this little rucksack with crayons and books and plenty of fun stuff to try and keep his airborne boredom down to a dull roar.

First Aid Saves Lives

Rixa from Stand and Deliver recently gave birth to her third baby, a surprise unassisted birth at home. Rixa being the kind of lady she is, has very kindly shared the videos of the birth online, along with some commentary on events.

I recommend you have a look at this video, not for the birth (menfolk, you see nothing scary, be still) but because of what happens just afterwards.

Baby Inga loses tone and colour and Rixa steps straight in and gives her some lifesaving breaths.

In reality Inga is blue and floppy for a minute, but even watching it just feels like an eternity. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like, not for Rixa who by her own admittance just goes onto autopilot, but for her husband Eric who sits quietly by helping as needed.

Congratulations again Rixa, not just on the birth but on dealing with the situation so swiftly and also for sharing this with your readers.

Ladies and gents, please, please, please look into taking a CPR course - you just never know when you might need it

Soakers a Go-Go!!

After the last post, I was absolutely blown away by the kindest offer from one of the other NCT mums of a few longies and shorties that her boys had outgrown. She also offered to make Alfie one of his own so he has a custom pair coming in the future.

But for now, he has been basking in the glory of woolly trousers.

Does he look snazzy or what?

Keith took a while to get used to the main difference between wool and plastic - wool is breathable. Obviously this has amazing benefits for Alfie's skin, unfortunately it has fewer benefits for our noses. The wool is crazy good at dealing with wee smells, but Alfie farts burn right on through them - and that we hadn't bargained for.

He seems to love them, and they keep him toasty warm and hell, anything that only needs washing once a week is good by me. I might just have to invest in a few clothes pegs.  

One Born Every Minute

I watched last night's episode with Keith, and wouldn't you just know it there were a pair of c-sections.

Despite it being a hanging offense to sneeze when the football is on, Keith decided that no such rules exist for my programmes and in fact audience participation was to be encouraged. That was an error on his part that was remedied with a swift "Will. You. Shut. UP!" at which point he retired into his copy of Classic Bike.

I thought I was going to hate the show last night, but actually I didn't. More than that, I genuinely celebrated the births of those babies as appropriate use of caesareans. One of the mothers, Hayley, was giving birth for the fourth time after having two babies who died at, or shortly after birth and who clearly carried a very heavy burden for her lost children. She was having an elective section because she couldn’t face the uncertainty of going through another labour.

I watched her sitting in her bed, going through the preparations with a midwife and her pain was etched into her face as clearly as if it were written in ink. There were tears in her eyes at the emotion of knowing she had brought this baby to term and that what was for her a stressful and traumatic state of uncertainty would soon be over.

Watching her I was profoundly sad that she still carried the burden of her lost children with her, and that nobody had been able to help her lay down those feelings of failure so she could enjoy her last pregnancy. I was also glad for her that she was able to take control of this birth by electing to have a section which clearly for her was the right decision.

Yup I did just say it, a caesarean was the right thing for her to do.

Maybe I take a contrary view to a lot of other NCTers, I think perhaps I do. I remember sitting at the conference last year and being shocked at the pantomime boos that came from the crowd during a discussion of hospital birth. I don’t really share that view, maybe because I don’t see nature as a soft, bountiful mother, but as a dispassionate observer who allows both great joy and beauty, but also great cruelty and suffering.

Anyway, the point is I believe most strongly that birth is a natural process, and sometimes that makes it a sad and bitter process. However, what I campaign for as a member of the NCT is for women to be given the right support to have the right birth. Most of the time that means less interference, yes, but one size never fits all. Some women will never again believe in the power of their bodies to carry and birth a baby, and I don’t see that those women should be forced to labour when they can take control of that birth and opt for a section.

I think we sometimes overlook the mental implications of birth which has left so many women feeling broken and alone afterwards. I think forcing a woman like Hayley to labour would have been as damaging to her as it was to force a woman like me to have a section. It was amazing to see this couple have their pain respected enough to be given the choice to birth their baby in the right way for them.

This time, I think it was a job well done by all.  

BFP Number 2

This is really weird writing in secret again. I hate secrets, I'm terrible at keeping them, which is why I needed to write this blog in the first place, to have some method of telling people without actually saying anything.

I wasn't hopeful about this month, Keith and I have been all over the place and unlike the last few months, my left ovary wasn't killing me mid cycle, which I took as meaning it was the turn of the right hand ovary to do some work. Turns out that is the winning ovary because by the end of last week I "knew" all over again. I came home on Saturday evening and thought I ought to do a test, and low, there was a faint pink line on there.

I didn't say anything, I just hid it in the cupboard and looked at it every time I went to the bathroom - which I had forgotten is about every 30 seconds in these early days, ye GADS! - and by yesterday I thought I would buy a proper digital affair and give the results to Keith as a sort of extra birthday pressie. This may in part have something to do with the fact that I had nothing else to give him as he had already had his Playstation game on Friday.

And there it was in black and white - no ambiguity, no "trick of the light": I am pregnant. Again.

Keith didn't react quite as positively as I might have hoped. In fact when I gave him the test he asked if I was pregnant. Yes darling that is why the test says pregnant. Oh right so it's not a question then?

And I choose to breed with this man!!

I have already told a couple of people, and Keith is threatening to have to tell a few more for logistical reasons but I feel strangely protective of this pregnancy already - even from Keith.

Last night for the first time I saw how much baggage Keith is still carrying from Alfie's birth. My head is full of things I am going to do differently this time, while his is full of fear that it doesn't matter what we do, we'll end up in the same scenario as we were last time.

I wasn't able to deal with that last night, which was poor of me, because he needs to resolve these feelings as much as I did, he's just taken longer (and a kick up the pants) to realise they are there in the first place.