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Its 4 in the morning.......
Well, its not really, its about 3, but it might as well be 4. Its a night for insomnia. I thought my little nature sounds player had virtually banished my bodies desire to stay up half the night, unfortunately the last 4 nights have proven that no amount of listening to waves on a beach will sedate my rebellious wakefulness. I would blame it all on Hubby and his mega-decibel snoring, that does play a part but having spent Friday night with my sister, and not sleeping then either, I don't think that he should shoulder all the blame. I'm hoping that it's the hot weather that's caused this relapse, and so once it becomes a bit 'fresher' I can go back to better sleeping. I've been a poor sleeper most of my adult life, I think shift working, babies and being called out in the middle of the night have contributed to a disturbed sleeping pattern so you would think I would just get on with it, I do, usually, but tonight is one of those times when I feel really fed-up, hard-done-by and the idea of snuggling down to a settled night has a nirvana-like appeal. I will sleep, at about 5 my body/brain will decide that now is the time it will go on hold, and I will sleep like the proverbial dead. Just as I need to wake -up I will go into a deep sleep which ensures that I am zombie-like until about 9.30 and require copious amounts of caffeine to kick-start me.
The dawn chorus has just started, the sky is just starting to lighten and the temperature has cooled. A new day is dawning, they are predicting 30C, I've got the day off, so garden here I come. I had parentcraft classes last night in the hospital and it was really sweltering, when we went to look at labour ward everyone was sweating buckets, I felt really sorry for all the pregnant Mums, pregnancy and hot weather is no fun. What was lovely though was that on the evaluation forms that the attendees fill in after the class, one couple had written a special thanks saying how much they 'appreciated the time and enthusiasm shown especially during the hot weather'. That made it all worth-while.
I've stolen this http://www.btinternet.com/~linda.redlion/badger_badger_footy.swf from BIL, it amused me.
Happy Jack
Hello. I had my 6 week check today and I'm 'a strong little lad' weighing in at 10lbs 15ozs.
All our yesterdays
Tonight I'm feeling tired and fed-up. I want to be able to turn back the clock to my late teens and behave outrageously. I have a desire to go clubbing until the sun rises; dance until the music stops; dress in all the short skirts and diaphenous tops; have my naval pierced, be young again. Be young, but with the knowledge of how I will age. It's too late now. I wasted my youth worrying about how I looked, I can't turn the clock back, it's depressing
Tonight I feel old.
This time 21 years ago I was in the middle of having a baby. On the Thursday I had gone out to vote (a case of deja vu there then) and the following evening we had gone round to friends for a curry. I was wearing pale blue dungarees. At 11pm it felt as if an elastic band had 'pinged' somewhere inside me, at the same time had thought I had become incontinent, I sidled off to the loo where, after a few seconds confusion, I realised my waters had gone. I told my friend who immediately felt she should tell everyone else, by this time, thanks to the dungarees, it was obvious anyway. The problem was that everyone started making jokes, and making me laugh, bad move when your waters have gone, you just flood the place. Nothing else was happening so we stayed another hour and, went home, phoned the hospital, and were told to come in. Still not much happening but in those days, once your waters had gone, you were in. It was a lovely little G.P unit with friendly, relaxed midwives where I had given birth to my son. Twelve hours later I was told that they were transferring me to the obstetric unit, by ambulance, as they were worried. They were worried, I was terrified. I had given birth first time in an obstetric unit, and it was a nightmare, drips, machines, ex-SS midwives, baby to SCBU. I have to explain, I am needle phobic. Injections, mild panic, slight light-headedness, blood-taking, crying and eventual faint, drips, well, they are my worst fear, to have a needle permanently in my vein causes an almost catatonic state. They had no mercy though and I was depatched. On arrival the worst happened. Drip up, machines on, blood-samples from baby's head, 29 hours later, 3cms, baby coming face first, they decided caesarian section. I relaxed immediately and twenty minutes later announced, 'I'm pushing', the room filled with everyone who had been preparing for theatre, and Miss Nosey made her appearance, face first, cord round her neck three times, and she was whisked off. Anxious few minutes then a little cry and we knew all was well.
The friends whose sofa I christened were made God-Parents, that was the least I could do!
So, tomorrow we celebrate her 21st. A small family gathering has turned into a barbeque for 30 with 8 guests staying overnight. I am now signing off to continue the manic preparations. It doesn't help that I am working tomorrow and won't be home until 6pm, eldest daughter and hubby can man the fort until I return, I have faith.
P.S - Yes, I know I'm a midwife and frequently stick needles in people, but that's different!
The long weekend
This weekend has been full to the brim. Saturday was daughters 21st, and we had a barbeque, for 29 people, 8 of whom stayed the night. The preparations began on Friday night, frantic cleaning and cooking going on. Then all day yesterday and today I was on a Study Weekend about Active Birth. It was facilitated by one of the most well-known exponants of this, an Australian called Andrea Robertson. I had booked to go on this, before daughter decided she wanted a party, because I 'teach' active birth in my maternity unit and I hoped that it would give me new ideas. I enjoy study days as you get to meet midwives from all over the country and it's a great opportunity to exchange ideas and hear about new techniques etc. The speaker was extremely motivated but some of what she was suggesting would be impossible to implement within UK maternity services due to monetary constraints, the way we function within such draconian protocols, and the influence of medicalisation. There were some good suggestions concerning classes and how to explain some concepts to the attendees. In a couple of weeks I have got to do a presentation for midwives within my unit on Active Birth and these study days were useful for that as she gave us loads of statistics that I can bombard everyone with. I might just as well speak to a brick wall half the time though, the managers are eager to adopt the concept of active birth, but only if it doesn't cost them initially. They like the idea because it has been shown that redesigning labour wards, making them 'home-from-home, promoting active birth etc. lowers the epidural and section rate, however, they are eager to make the savings associated with this but don't want to make a speculative investment so they try to do it on the cheap.
The party went well. Hubby cooked far too much food, as usual. Daughter enjoyed it, and that is what it was all about. Everyone seemed quite merry by the end of the night, 3am, except for yours truly, who limited her alcohol intake, due to the fact I had to be up early for the second study day. The house and garden looked like a total disaster area when I left this morning, bottles, cans, used party poppers, half-eaten burgers and squashed birthday cake strewn everywhere. During the day though the fairies visited and cleaned it all up so when I returned this evening all I had to do was have a coffee and write this. Thankyou fairies ( Hubby and Eldest Daughter).
That's it now. No more expected parties. No super-special birthdays marked on the calender, my responsibilities have officially ended. I am redundant, superfluous to requirements.
England have just scored! Usually when this happens Hubby leaps out of his chair but there was just a strange silence. I cautiously looked round the door, what on earth could be wrong with him? He was asleep. The man who had stopped me from watching BB had gone to sleep and missed England's goal - silly sod.
I have just been perambulating around my garden assessing the damage inflicted by last nights revellry. Apart from the confetti it would have been not too bad, if the child from hell had not been there, or should I say 'if the parents from hell had not brought their son with them'. Aged 6 he is totally out of control. No, that's wrong, he has no control. His parents virtually ignore him and he is obviously used to it. He makes no attempt to interact with them, and visa versa. Please and thankyou are not part of his vocabulary, but that does not prevent him demanding things from you ad nauseum. He attacked my cats, slashed the flower heads off my plants with a stick, broke my daughters bubble-machine, threw assosted heavy items at the heads of innocent guests and was generally unpleasant. I have a policy of not admonishing children who are not closely associated with me, I ignored that policy last night. I started off attempting the quietly, quietly approach; progressed to the stern look with raised eye-brow, and finished the night shouting at the little darling, whilst his grandmother was standing next to me. Not happy, she turned to me and said 'You will have one like that soon', before I could give her a negative reply my daughter reposted, ' No she won't. My son will NEVER behave like that, because I won't let him.' Silence. Now, the real sting-in-the-tail about this is that his Mummy has just finished a psychology degree and, is training to be a psychotherapist. Perhaps she should look closer to home before she unleashes her wisdom on others. Oh yes, and she's pregnant again.
There was an arguement, a heated political debate. It involved a close relative of hubby's, my son and my DIL. Son and DIL were accused of being conservatives. Relative was holding forth about her socialist beliefs and generally shouting down anyone who didn't agree with her. She is usually very mild mannered, hubby and I call her and her other half The Anoracks, they are truly boring. When our children were young and we drew up our wills we had to designate someone to be the children's guardian should the grim reaper come a-calling. We chose this couple. As a result our children wouldn't let us out of their sight. They were terrified that Mr & Mrs Anorack of Boringland would become their new Mummy and Daddy, it was a brilliant rouse really as the children appreciated us as parents when faced with the alternative. Anyway back to to the arguement. Or really the hypocrisy. Out on our drive was parked a new Merc, with personalised number plate, whose was it? Mr Anorack's. Whose children didn't attend the local comprehensive but were sent to a neighbouring authority's grammar school? The Anoracks. Who has a gardener and a cleaner? Yes, them again. Well, I'm sorry but I feel that anyone who professes to be a socialist should live the socialist life-style, i.e live like the majority, not the elite. Perhaps this is why, in the main, I have no time for socialist politicians, they talk the talk but do not live the talk, it rather smacks of Animal Farm to me, 'all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.' I'm a simple soul at heart, that's why I voted .............