impending labour dissatisfaction...

I'm trying very hard to recognise that it's just part of the process, but everyone is pissing me off.

I texted the acupuncturist, but he hasn't got back to me. My midwife is being too 'ah sure, it's grand' for my liking. My husband is still smoking - he's taking his insistence that he won't smoke in labour very literally - I wonder how much pain I'll have to be in before he actually resists. He hasn't bought patches or chewing gum either, so how is he going to stop himself acting like a prick, I wonder?

I just went for a ten minute walk before reading to my daughter, who I've been with since 12 today. I asked her father to bring her upstairs before I went out, hoping to at least skip half the bedtime ritual that I do every night of my life. I told her she couldn't do her magazine, after I'd played snakes and ladders with her.

I came home after a 15 minute walk, to find them both on the floor doing the magazine, and of course she refused to even go brush her teeth with him. Fuck him, every time it's the same - why do I have to be the only adult parent? He spent the half hour before her bedtime on the computer, having said he'd come in to her. Why didn't he want to spend time with her then, instead of after bedtime? I'm sick of it.

Being overdue is no fun - it's a kind of limbo. I'd like to go out and go to the cinema and just take my mind off everything. Any sensible person would just do that. My MIL babysitter is out on her monday night razz though, and my husband has to work in the morning - he's currently fighting off flu with his usual sense of illness-timing.

I just want to have this baby, get through all the post partum hormonal madness, and regain some feeling of normalcy out the other end.

I hope all this frustration and resentment is indicative that things are about to kick off. I can't take much more of this!

Dear Baby,

I don't know what to do. By my conception date, which I know are correct, you were conceived on the 15th of October, therefore you are now only one week overdue, but the world health organisation's reckoning, you're actually only due (41 weeks).

The hospital scan puts you at 13 days overdue - a big difference, and this is not borne out by the scan evidence, which shows you to be happy, placenta fine, lots of water around you, no problems. You're moving away in there too.

Your sister didn't get to come on her own and I regret that. She showed no signs of post maturity either. The hospital want to either smear protroglandin on my cervix to force it open, or stick a crochet hook inside me and break my waters on Tuesday, regardless. A violent start to your life here. I won't countenance letting them do wither of these things to me - I'm outraged enough to realise they stripped my membranes without asking or informing me last time, like I'm some sort of sheep being put through the dipping process.

But I'm torn between going the acupuncturist tomorrow, which is giving in to their pressure a little, and just waiting for you to get ready. Why did all those cervix softening pressure waves go away?

My sister's visit looms, I really want you out here before she's in the country! I didn't want a visit from her to my bedside... and I want to be able to go to your great grandmother's 90th birthday party and show you off, preferably not in a wheelchair!

What do I do honey? Wait and see? Cancel the induction tomorrow, tell them I'm going for acupuncture instead, which I did last time, and book a new scan date. And wait another few days? Or get you on out here? I'm so wanting to see you. Someone asked me if I was excited about the scan, but I'd just much rather see you in the flesh. And I'd like to not feel any sword of Damocles hanging over me this time - that's what the home birth was meant to be all about... what's going on here?

symbol

I had to go to the hospital today, to get a 'post due' scan on my supposedly overdue baby. Despite the fact that I know for a fact what date I conceived on, the hospital is not interested - they would rather stick to their 'one size fits all' policy of inducing mothers no matter what after 14 days overdue, due to the terrible dangers inherent in letting the female body follow its own course.

I'm glad of the technology that has told me today that my baby is well and healthy, that my placenta is in a good position and performing, and that there is plenty of water left in my womb. But given all these findings, why is the system so keen to drag me in and artificially break my waters, ensuring a harder, more painful labour? With my first labour, my waters broke just before I started pushing, after a very long labour - and I was glad of that. It makes for a softer experience.

But I know all this, I just wish I didn't have to deal with it. my midwife has just delivered a baby that was supposedly three weeks overdue, but was born at 8lbs, covered in vernix, with plenty of water... her mother refused the induction and just came in for checks - so I will have to stand up and fight my corner too, I just wish I didn't have to!

But what I really wanted to complain about is this: Holles St is notorious for being crowded. When I had to go through this process four years ago, we ended up waiting in the sweltering waiting room for two hours - I was having contractions, I was so uncomfortable, the baby was moving like crazy but promptly fell asleep as soon as I got to the scan, so I had to be hooked up to a faulty machine (second of two!) for monitoring for another hour or so. I was exhausted and uncomfortable by the time we escaped the place. This time we were booked in for 8.45 and we arrived at 8.30. We waited til 9.15, when a flustered radiographer blithered in and out, apologising and saying she was on her own - I'm not sure hwy this was an issue, we were the first and only people there! Then she proceeded to behave like a looper, making very little sense herself, with her bizarre small talk - she'd ask questions, then stare bizarrely through the answers, you just couldn't communicate with her, it was weird. So I gave up and smiled and nodded.

After that we waited for a nurse to take my blood pressure. Then she sent us away to the canteen for 20 minutes for a horrible cup of chlorinated tea, as the doctor wasn't there - apparently she takes everyone together - perhaps she only works for a short time on Saturday morning? We came back and waited another 20 minutes and finally saw her. She made our induction appointment (ok, I should have said no then, but just didn't!) and we were released. It could have all taken 20 minutes, but it took two hours... and that was on a quiet morning. Shite admin policies!

Now, back to the picture - this statuette is in the scan waiting room, and it strikes me as embodying the state of hospital birth at the moment - the pregnant woman is like a beached whale - the birthing environment of the hospital and the epidural policy keep her on her back, stranded, her legs are truncated and made useless by the drug. Her arms are strapped to her side, redundant, and she strains impotently! Perhaps I'm reading too much in to it, but it struck me as ironic...

sex tips for boys

Real boys, I'm not complaining about my husband on this one.

We discussed the necessity of sex-ed on forninepounds recently (agreeing how much more fun the oral would be if boys got real sex lessons from the age of 16 up). Ireland has such a poor record of sex education - some people still disagree that it should be taught. My husband's experience was that the boys were herded into one room and told things they already knew about boys, ditto the girls, and never the twain should meet. Another friend was told in her nice South Dublin Convent school, by a nun, that 'boys were like pressure cookers and girls were like ovens'. I'd like to think this was a reference to the fact that women might need a longer slower lead up to orgasm, but I'm afraid it was purely a reference to bun baking, no enjoyment relevant.

I just saw a book reviews by a 17 year old in Mothering magazine. It's called How To Be The Best Lover - A guide for teenage boys'. The reviewer cited it as the perfect follow up to The Talk, for saving parents and kids alike embarrassment. No link, I'm afraid, Amazon took me to other 'best lover' books, then when I searched including 'teenage boys' it took me to Harry Potter!

I know this may seem one-sided, that I'm concentrating on boys, not girls. But my feeling generally is that girls take care of this aspect of life far more comprehensively - the resources are out there. I had read and memorised Cynthia Heimel's 'Sextips for Girls' before I was 15, and every issue of Cosmo had a list of ways to improve your blowjob technique - I think the pre-17 magazine market is providing a horrible amount of education on that sort of subject right now, for better for worse. And girls talk a lot more - and perhaps with more focus, shall we say, than boys do? I hope not, but I suspect it's true...

More positively, my mother gave me 'The Mirror Within' by Anne Dickson, a lovely book with a mirrored cover that focuses hugely on women's sexuality self esteem, self image, anatomy, masturbation, all good things. The thing I remember best from it, along with the cute diagrams of women's anatomy and advice to get a mirror and look at oneself, was the answer a nun gave when asked how she experienced her sexuality - she answered 'I pray naked'.

people are dreaming about me

Poor Midget Wrangler is having unsuccessfully prophetic dreams that the baby has arrived (though I'm afeard at her prophecy of a girl, now) and bizarrely the middle aged lady in my husband's work dreamed about me having the baby the other day!

It's strange to think of people dreaming about me!

Though I myself have recurring baby dreams, and have long known that dreaming of a baby is indicative of your own creative projects or work, or whatever. Though in this case, it's probably just that people are so focused on the imminent birth. A baby arriving belongs to everyone on some level, I suppose.

A friend who was training as a veterinary nurse, who had recently got a King Charles spaniel puppy told me she'd dreamed she was giving birth, with green surgical sheets all round - and the nurse said 'Congratulations, Debbie, you have...three lovely King Charles Spaniel Puppies!' as she held them up to her!

I've had so many I can't remember individual ones - some nice, some distressing. During this pregnancy I dreamed I had twins, then had to somehow give birth to them in reverse - actually pull them back inside me, and it all worked bizarrely well, and painlessly. In fact, most of my labour dreams (which I've had before I ever had my daughter) worked very smoothly and well.

I wish I had some greater point to make with all this, but I don't!

Krabby Patties

This is my daughter's photo of the Krabby Patties she and her Dad made for dinner tonight - she's been asking for them for ages, and as my husband has been threatening to make fish cakes for years, it seemed like the perfect bonding experience - especially as I don't eat meat or fish and didn't particularly savour the idea of blending it all into paste and mushing it into patties...

But what a resounding success - they had a nice time together, the result was perfectly formed and super tasty, and she made up her own with lettuce, tomato and even pickle! She requested mustard but we hedged our bets on that one...

In case you fancy the idea - into the blender goes a tin of tuna (you could of course, use krab...), breadcrumbs, spring onion, tsp olive oil and 2 egg yolks. form them into patties, refrigerate, and bam, there you go! #I don't know why I'm so delighted by this, but for some reason I am - Plankton is right, just don't tel him the recipe...

Spanglish

You know how there are films that you just never get round to watching, even though you really want to? I finally caught Spanglish on RTE last night - what a great, sweet, film! I love domestic, small scale films which stay in one place and focus on people, their relationships and interactions, and motivations.

I really like Adam Sandler in that sort of role, I find him immensely sympathetic - especially Flor's comment that being used to macho Latino men, she finds him like a Mexican woman and doesn't know how to deal with it!

I'm also quite impressed with the ending and the way the film refuses to descend into wish fiulfilment.

However, I am worried by the characters in it. It's not a big jump to see myself as the neurotic, damaged wife, forcing everyone around her to deal with her moods and foibles all the time, overdramatising everything and ultimately being horribly near sighted and selfish in her desperate quest for a happiness she should already appreciate.

And I'm sure my husband could relate to himself a the creative and put upon sweetie Sandler, just trying to do his best and being endlessly patient, while being taken for granted.

But in truth, I'm not that bad, and he's not that good, really. Beyond that, I'm not sure.

there's a thread on Rollercoaster at the moment that a husband started, in backlash to all the complaining about partners that goes on - about the reasons why he loves his wife. Lots of women have joined in with very touching testaments to the men in their life, it's very moving.

But I'm taking heart from one woman, possibly on another thread, who;s at the end of her pregnancy and says she can't even look at her husband at the moment, she feels so negatively towards him! I got the impression she can say this so casually because she knows it's hormonal, and it will pass.

I'm not falling into the trap of 'it will all be alright when the baby's here' because I know from experience exactly how it will be! But I am looking forward to a sense of things being back to normal, whatever that normal may become, with two kids instead of one...

Are you in labour yet? Are you in labour yet?

To all dear friends, family and well wishers,

I know I said I was due this week. I made a mistake - It looks like I'm due next week, length of cycle issues and so on. So while I'm well up for chats or offers of coffee and other distractions (visits also welcome if you can live without me cleaning for you), please don't ring/text me to ask if I'm in labour. It's a lot of pressure, you know.

And if I am in labour, I won't be answering the phone, because I'll be in labour. And I will be texting you an hour or two after the birth to tell you about it...

ok?

Because it's a testy enough time, and the 'Well, have you had it yet?' queries only tend to make a heavily pregnant woman testier...

Haircuts

Myself and my daughter went for haircuts today - there's a nice woman in Greystones two of my friends get beautiful haircuts from.

And yet... last time she gave me a good cut that looked good for ten minutes due to elaborate styling which just didn't work for me and ended up looking frumpy. So I just went back to get my little layer put back in and it's still all very bobbed looking - I suspect I'm too old and round faced for a bob, again, it just looks frumpy. Still, I'll reserve judgement for a few days til I've washed it and let it relax a little, as you do. But just once, I'd love to walk out of a place thrilled.

And as for my daughter - she has very straight, lovely hair, and I just wanted it trimmed and her fringe trimmed out of her eyes - I asked the girl cutting it for it not to be straight, to have a more natural look, you know when they cut it upwards so it's kind of feathery instead of a big straight line across the forehead? What have we got? A big woobly straight line across the forehead. And I didn't quite have the nerve to ask for it to be fixed, esp as my daughter and husband had been waiting ages for mine to finish. Also I forgot to ask for a sort of gentle V in the back rather than a straight line, which I now have, despite its original shape. SIGH!! Why is it so hard.

Luckily my daughter is too small to worry/obsess over such things, she just likes getting her hair cut, I think.

For now... presumably all too soon she'll be thanking incompetent hairdressers with tears in her eyes, as she hands over a big tip and goes home to sob in to her pillow!

I want a holiday

I'd love a holiday. We're hoping to get one in September as friends are getting married in Italy, where we were planning to go anyway. Though continuing shit from the husband's job makes things look grim.

Our friends are keeping it low key, a church ceremony, followed by champagne in the Church garden, then a bus to their villa where we'll have buffet food. How laid back and lovely, I am utterly charmed by this idea.

My fantasy holiday would then be to have a villa of our own for a week, with a swimming pool, where we can sit in the warm sun and relax and mess around, but not feel under any pressure to do anything - find a few nice restaurants and cafés, ideally spend some time at the beach, feed the baby in the sun and chill. And obviously, eat gelato at every opportunity.

But I hate the hassle of trying to book holidays, I can't seem to find anywhere online, then there's the hassle of liaising flights and rental times, all the added extra cash, of which we have NONE anyway, so it's all a moot point.

Still, some time in the good weather with nice food and friendly people is really what we need - we haven't been away since last May. I know that this one of the things you sacrifice if you stay at home more/don't work every hour there is, but it's tough sometimes, not to yearn for it!

Waiting...

My scan due date suggested that today or tomorrow would be the day. There's no sign of any interest to start moving from my baba, although there has been much stretching action going on in the last week or so.

I had my daughter induced with acupuncture to fit in with hospital policy, so I don't know how long she would have hung in there on her own... because of this I have a fear that this baby just won't decide to move - and I'll be pregnant forever! Or like an elephant. I mean obviously there are things I can do, but for the moment it's ok to wait - it's just there's this odd feeling that it might never happen.

I suppose it's because I'm so inactive myself, always reluctant to leave, to start the work, to get up and just do it. Think about it, dawdle, dither. I know a woman who works in the area of rebirthing, or did, and she suggested that people who have been induced are like this - always digging their heels in, trying to gain back that time, resisting being shoved. It's certainly true in my case.

The famous story goes that they induced my mother with a drip, and still nothing happened. These days you'd just be queued up for a section, somehow my mother unhooked herself from the drip and went to Bewley's. In those days they still had the little tiered cake trays on each table, and you ate what you wanted and paid at the end - so she stuffed herself with custard slices and went back to hospital and had me (aha! So that explains my cream bun habit and figure - imprinting!).

It's strange - much as I'm eager for the baby to make an appearance, it's such a huge thing to face into that I'm also mildly apprehensive. Fear of the unknown, I suppose - I'm not so worried about the bits I've done before this time, not so much the pain, just things going wrong, logistics, having it be what I want it to - or not.

However, I've got to the stae when people are staring to ask me if I've had the baby yet or not, which gets wearing incredibly quickly - I was 15 minutes late picking up my daughter today, and all hte teachers had driven themselves into a frenzy of excitement, deciding I musth ave gone into labour! So perhaps the time is now after all...

Anyone for Tennis?

Did anyone see the Tennis today? I love the Wimbledon finals - I'm not a sports fan, I like Wimbledon but not tennis generally, the World Cup but not football, and gymnastics and ice skating!

But the men's finals today - it was so close, so hard, I could completely understand why Federer burst into tears at the end - he's the unstoppable defender, Nadal seemed so young, and Federer's round little youthful face is gone, he's leaner, he looked so much older than the baby faced Nadal with his lovely adolescent arms! But he's only 25, for God's sake!

I love the epic quality of a tennis match, and today they were like Titans - or something out of Fionn MacCumhaill. I loved the Federer told Nadal at the net that it could have easily been him winning, they were so well matched. And if I was Nadal I'd be thrilled - to hit Wimbledon, get to the final, and then play like that against an opponent like that. It's so emotional! Great telly.

Grr Arg Arg

I was castigated by my MIL today for not having sent thank you notes to her random friends who sent us baby presents after our daughter was born - her cousin had presents for both me us and my BIL's babies. Despite my previous lack of gratitude.

I have to say, at the time I found it weird that people I didn't know were sending me baby presents. I thought I did send out thank yous, to be honest, but then, with a new baby, the difficult breastfeeding, the feelings of bereavement that resurfaced after the loos of my mother and her anniversary - I might have had other things on my plate. That's point one.

Point two is, if your husband's mother's friends and relations send presents, why is it automatically up to the woman to send thank you notes to people she doesn't even know? Why is the onus more on me, while my husband is left out of the equation? It's up to him whether we visit his family or not, send them cards or not, in my opinion.

Personally, what I think would be most appropriate would be for me to pass on our thanks through my MIL, who should make a point of saying something.

Now I may be totally wrong about this, but I would not expect something in return for a baby present. But perhaps I'm totally wrong. My MIL insisted that she had managed to thank everyone when her children were born - but they also never had tantrums, said they hated her, caused any trouble, refused food or all the things my child does. House work was no effort for her, and she never put a foot wrong as a mother. So why would something like that have posed a difficulty for her, indeed.

My husband can't understand why I'm bothered by this latest one - well, I do have issues with what I perceive to be injustices and I feel wrongly judged.

But clearly the thing to do is go out tomorrow and buy a little pack of thank you cards, so I can write up and hand one to her every time one of her friends passes on a generously and painstakingly knitted polyester cardigan in a shade of neon pastel peach - or six. Still though, I think it's sad the milk of human kindness has to be conditional...

If pregnancy gave you hormonal superpowers, there would be smoking lazer eye holes in my mother in law today. Perhaps that's all this post is about after all and I really am a lazy, ungrateful cow!

Q: What should I be doing?

Quote from Art history essay on this collection - I like it: "For me Massoumi's work pleasantly portrays listless women of Ghajar era, who seem not to have anything to do, I like the art form, but I kept having this feeling that as a hard working modern Iranian woman I should not much approve of the message."

Answer:

• Clearing birth-space


• Ironing


• Cleaning mould off shower ceiling (courtesy of husband who won't put on the heater or leave door open while showering - or clean the ceiling...)


• Listening to hypnobirth cd and practicing relaxation


• Pilates


• Perinneal massage


• Appealing birth grant refusal


• Sitting on gym ball, getting baby's head down


• Preparing soup and cake to freeze for after the birth

What am I doing?

• Squeezing spots


• Fecking about online


• Writing stupid lists


• Listlessly watching nothing on tv


• Listening to the sound of my headache which won't go away and obsessing about it a bit


• Worrying vaguely about it all


• Doing my nails, badly


• Eating stuff

At the end of the day, I'd be best off just going to sleep!

NB If you search for 'listless' on Google images, you get some bizarre responses.

home birth and children present?

I'm torn, as usual.

I had planned on having my 4 year old daughter attend the birth of her little brother (though I have to confess, ideally it will all go down at night so we can just wake her to come greet the baby when it's all cheerfully over).

Not realistic? I was talking to my homoeopath who warned me off this course of action in no uncertain terms ('Jo, if she starts one of her tantrums while you're in labour, YOU'RE FUCKED'). Hmm.

She wants to be there , I want her to be part of it, not shipped off and left out. My homoeopath feels otherwise, I owe it to myself, after this hard pregnancy, and to this baby, to be fully focused on the birth. I can't argue with that.

A major fear though, is that organising my daughter to her Granny's and back in time to feel the newness of the baby will cause my MIL to be visited upon me, in labour, or directly after the birth. And it means my husband has to leave at some point. But as he says, something's got to give, it's better if it's not me. And having me and the poor girl shouting at each other mid labour will be no great experience for either of us. True, if I can't deal with her day to day, I won't be able to in labour. I'm romanticising everything, perhaps.

It's just that the stories of homebirths involving three and four year olds have been so positive and good, it's hard to let go of that vision.

Sigh. I don't know. As always.

Here's a link to a homebirth story with a brilliant little girl in attendance: http://home.comcast.net/~l.mcmahan/niel.html

Beware there's some graphic birth footage!

I've more to say about this, but I'm tired. And the husband wants to check his myspace obsessively - will Zach Braff have answered his email??