Tag Archives: Raising Ireland

My Birth Story by Suzette Meade

My first foray into the life changing event of childbirth for our son Liam involved being medically induced at 10 days past EDD (expected due date), being fully juiced up with epidural for the 17 hours of a slow contracting cervix – the pushing part was just 15-20 minutes.

So when it came time to start trying for number two ( 7 months later) we got lucky the first attempt (whoops!). We both were hoping it was a girl cause at 39, I wasn’t keen on trying again. No ultrasound reveals with either pregnancies – we prefer Kinder Surprise.

Not keen on another 42 week pregnancy (especially suffering an immobilizing sciatic nerve issue from 36 weeks – with a non walking 17 month old toddler) I started acupuncture from 37 weeks and taking evening primrose oil capsules (not orally) to soften my cervix.

At my 39 week check up my midwife seeing me hobble in to the office told me she was going to give me a stretch and sweep straight away. Jane didn’t make any promises and in fact informed me she had very short fingers and probably wouldn’t be able to reach that far up my Va-jj. As she removed her lube laced latex hand with a grin on her face she announced she found one of my evening primrose capsules but more importantly she felt the babies head and had stretched me from already being 2cm to 3cm.

3:30am Two days later, I woke (for the 7th time that night) around 3:30am feeling uncomfortable . I made my slow waddle to kitchen to get Panadol and by the time I reached the cupboard the pain stopped, so I turned around to head back to bedroom before it appeared again… hmmm that’s strange I thought. Plonked myself on the sofa in the loungeroom and opened the contractions app I had downloaded months ago and proceeded to time the cramps, by the 4th contraction arriving every 3 minutes I realized this must be it. Killian woke for work at 6am – promptly called the birthing unit to advise of our impending arrival. We woke my mum (who had just arrived 4 days earlier) and Liam and got ready for 10 minute car ride to hospital, as my husband doesn’t have his Drivers License we ALL made the trip in. Mum driving that stop/start way taxi drivers do when you are holding back ten pints after a session, my 6”2 husband in the back seat jammed between the two baby seats. Breaking the tension was our toddler mimicking my escalating moans as I ohhed and ahhed through contractions that were breathtaking now (and I don’t mean in a Cillian Murphys eyes way).

815am – Arrive at the birthing suite
Placed into the observation room while administrative pandemonium ensued about having two separate patient IDs from my maiden name from my sons birth to my Mrs. moniker.
After 25 minutes no staff had come in to introduce themselves and by then contractions were crashing on top of each other, I was pressing that red call button like it was hopefully going to administer epidural relief.

9am – Finally arrival of Lillian the Teaching Midwife (that was her name badge) – she gave me an internal, waters gushed and she calmly announced that I was already 8cm and this baby will be arriving in the next half an hour. I responded with one word “EPIDURAL”. Only to be told there was no time, in fact there were no birthing suites free and I would be giving birth in the observation room where there was in fact not even any gas an air installed- so I guess no point getting that typed birth plan out my midwife forced us to prepare!

Lillian quickly ran off to gather a tray of sterilized goodies and the baby warmer station, and returned with another midwife (in training).

940am
A second internal check and midwife pushed the last 1/2 cm of cervix over babies head and told me to crack on with pushing. To make it all more vivid (sans drugs) Lillian was giving running commentary on what was taking place downstairs so the training midwife would understand the stages of labour….
It was like a verbal mirror for my husband who has been given a ban on looking at the business end. To say it was different after an epidural birth was an understatement, actually feeling this mass opening up the lower end of your body was almost an out of body experience. Certainly wasn’t prepared for that sting of the 36cm diameter head forcing its way out, there was no ladylike heehooheehoo from me, more like “ that’s effing stinging, I am splitting, it feels like you are effing cutting me – can I push that’s killing me.

10:06am
That final overwhelming release of pressure and gush as a new life emerges from inside you is indescribable. Amongst the rush of arrival and setting up the makeshift birthing suite we managed to instruct the two assisting us with the birth that we wanted Killian to announce the sex of our baby, and as the screaming slippery new person was placed on my chest all warm and musky smelling I turned to Killian and said what did we have? He joyfully replied “ A girl, we have a girl”
An hour and 45 minutes after walking through the automatic doors of the hospital we were holding our new daughter and Liams new sister, Matilda Alice.

P.S
Checked and cleared to leave the ward at 4pm that same day. My Mum to nervous driving car with newborn so I drove us home just 6 hours after giving birth – and we stopped via fish n chip shop on the trip home, it was Friday!

Suzette and the beautiful Matilda

‘Mammy, do you have a willy??’

So… THIS line of questioning began this morning while I was in the shower. Jacob, 3 years of age and proud owner of a willy of his very own, joined me in the bathroom while I was washing myself. As usual. (Is it just my partner or does every dad get to shower alone, while I get plagued by my little visitor each time I attempt to close the bathroom door behind me?!)

We discussed the ‘cool bubbles’ in the shower tray as we always do, and he monitored them slipping down the drain. And then we went through our ‘Morning Questions’ ritual:

Me: ‘Did you have a nice sleep?’

Jacob: ‘Yes’ (did he fuck – he hasn’t slept properly for weeks)

Me: ‘Did you have nice dreams?’

Jacob: ‘Yes’

Me: ‘What did you dream about?’

Jacob: ‘I dreamt about the owls and the fire engines and the bubbles and the green tractor’.

Me: ‘Do you feel happy?’

Jacob: ‘Yes’

And we grin like weirdos, trying to ‘out smile’ each other if we can. But then he cocked his little head to the side, as a new question formed – one that hasn’t been (and I hope isn’t about to be!) added to the daily list:

‘Mammy – do you have a willy?’

SO. FRICKIN. FUNNY. I had just been on the telly last night contributing to a piece on nudity in Ireland and one of my main points when interviewed (which wasn’t used in the program), was that I LOVE how kids have no hang ups about their bodies when they are kids, because the stupid media and the stupid society and the stupid other mean kids and the stupid pass-remarkable grannies etc haven’t gotten to them yet.

So I smiled, and just said ‘No I don’t, just boys have willies Jacob’. I WAS going to say ‘Mammy has a …. ‘ – what word would I use?! What’s the equivalent to ‘willy’? Daisy? Fandora? Front bum?! HELP! But I decided that I didn’t have to go there, coz this morning, we were just talking about willies. And he seemed happy enough with that, nodded his head sagely for a moment before adding:

‘Poppy doesn’t have a willy’.

Poppy is a girl in his pre-school class. Another 3 year old. Jaysus. I took a little breath and decided against asking him how he knew that Poppy doesn’t have a willy, but to be honest, I’m sure that it doesn’t really matter when you’re talking to a three year old. So instead, I said;

‘That’s right. Poppy doesn’t have a willy. Just boys have willies’.

‘Yes they do, Mammy’ he agreed. And promptly pulled his pants down right there to present his amazing willy to me. The proof was in the pull-ups. Proud boy ;o)

The Three-Month Post-Partum Breakdown

So, you’ve had your baby, eh? Nice wan, sister ;o)

Week 1 – You think that you’ll never walk properly again, and mentally kiss your vagina goodbye (awwww).

Week 2 – You convince yourself that your boobs will forever resemble those weird-looking milk dispensers with the cream-coloured rubber tube that you find in some coffee shops on O’Connell Street.

Week 3 – You’re paranoid that even sleeping in the same bed as your partner will get you pregnant again, GOD FORBID, and pretend that you’re addicted to watching all episodes of The Good Wife on Netflix so that you can ‘accidentally’ fall asleep on the couch.

Week 4 – You figure out how to get your baby from Point A to Point B in the car without stopping every 5 kilometers to check on them because you’re convinced that they have stopped breathing.

Week 5 – You try on some of your old, pre-pregnancy clothes. BIG MISTAKE. (What are you thinking?!) You stop eating cakes.

Week 6 – You’re told this is the exercise ‘all clear’ point, so you join a hardcore zumba-body sculpt-yogafitlates hybrid class and completely fuck up your back.

Week 7 – You start physio and resume eating cakes. This is a GREAT week.

Week 8 – You start to feel guilty about all the thank you cards that you haven’t written on behalf of your baby and then your mother makes you feel worse because she AGREES that you’re extremely rude. You order the bleedin’ cards.

Week 9 – You throw your hair up in a bundle, fire on some make up and sneak into a gig in town by yourself so that you can dance this Wrecked-New-Momma feeling away and as soon as you walk your VERY post-pregnant body in the door… YOU BUMP STRAIGHT INTO YOUR EX BOYFRIEND. Fuck my life.

Week 10 – Enduring a colicky baby and her wayward older toddler brother every night for 10 weeks causes your brain to start asking these questions: ‘When is too soon to put her into creche?’ ‘Why did I decide to leave New York?’ ‘Do you think I could get away with a week in Ibiza with Nicola/Karen/Olivia/Siobhan?’ ‘Do you think I should bleach the brown bin?’.

Week 11 – You realize that you haven’t answered a single email or text message for three and a half weeks. Your once-cute pink laptop now represents the entire old life that you know you won’t get back to for ages and so you side-shuffle it under the bed so that it stops LOOKING AT YOU IN THAT WAY.

Week 12 – You go on your first family holiday, get ten minutes in the jacuzzi by yourself every day and pat yourself on the back for A) finding a swimsuit to fit, B) insisting that if you didn’t go on holiday IMMEDIATELY, that you would force-feed the entire family your really shit shepherds pie every day for seven weeks, C) going to physio so that your hand now reaches your back in order to, in fact, pat it, and

D) being responsible for these guys ;o)

You’re doing great, pal xxx

Postpartum Depression (Via Lucie’s List)

If you have yet to sign up to Lucie’s List, then please do. Sound, practical advice on pregnancy and beyond, with a few ‘Fuck yeahs!’ thrown in. Just up our alley, right?

This is an AMAZING piece on postpartum depression that Lucie’s List has kindly given me permission to share. I think every single pregnant woman and new mother should read it, PARTICULARLY in this country as Ireland is still so flippin’ backwards on these matters!

Take it from me right now, if you recognize yourself in the descriptions of different types of PPD below, then please be assured that it is EXTREMELY normal and that you have the super-woman strength to find the help you need to get through. We’re rooting for you xxx

Postpartum Depression

1 in 8 of you will suffer from postpartum depression, anxiety, or OCD. It can be nasty stuff and should not go untreated.

You’ve probably experienced the “baby blues”, which is the crazy moodiness and weepiness that occurs in the first week after you give birth. It’s normal. Everyone goes through it.

Perinatal mood disorders are different. They may feel like baby blues at first — but the signs and symptoms are more intense and longer lasting.

The Stats, Please

– 13% of postpartum women develop PPD (1 in 8!)
– 10% OF DADS (yes, that’s right, men!) develop symptoms of PPD
– 1-3 in 1,000 women develop postpartum psychosis. (I have 70,000 subscribers, which means – statistically – that several dozen of you will experience this and it is SERIOUS business!)
** A woman experiencing postpartum psychosis may be in danger of taking her own life or that of her child. Symptoms include paranoia, hallucinations (hearing voices urging a new mother to kill herself or her child), severe insomnia, total loss of appetite, and major anxiety and depression. This condition is considered a psychiatric emergency and demands an aggressive, immediate response. Please click here to get local help where you live. Help is waiting for you. Please don’t delay!

So I need to ask (new mothers): how are you doing?

Some of you are feeling Super Duper! Jolly Good. Elated. Tired, yes, but happy. Some of you may be struggling and still others may be somewhere in the middle.

Maybe you’ve experienced depressive episodes in the past (ahem) and maybe you haven’t, so let’s talk specifics. *** MIND YOU: this isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing. Some women experience some symptoms and not others.

[During my research, I stumbled across an excellent site for PPD support called Postpartum Progress. The following is re-printed directly from this article. (thanks Katherine!!)]

*You may have postpartum depression if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

You feel overwhelmed. Not like “hey, this new mom thing is hard.” More like “I can’t do this and I’m never going to be able to do this.” You feel like you just can’t handle being a mother. In fact, you may be wondering whether you should have become a mother in the first place.
You feel guilty because you believe you should be handling new motherhood better than this. You feel like your baby deserves better. You worry whether your baby can tell that you feel so bad, or that you are crying so much, or that you don’t feel the happiness or connection that you thought you would. You may wonder whether your baby would be better off without you.
You don’t feel bonded to your baby. You’re not having that mythical mommy bliss that you see on TV or read about in magazines.
You can’t understand why this is happening. You are very confused and scared.
You feel irritated or angry. You have no patience. Everything annoys you. You feel resentment toward your baby, or your partner, or your friends who don’t have babies. You feel out-of-control rage.
You feel nothing. Emptiness and numbness. You are just going through the motions.
You feel sadness to the depths of your soul. You can’t stop crying, even when there’s no real reason to be crying.
You feel hopeless, like this situation will never ever get better. You feel weak and defective. You feel like a failure.
You can’t bring yourself to eat, or perhaps the only thing that makes you feel better is eating.
You can’t sleep when the baby sleeps, nor can you sleep at any other time. Or maybe you can fall asleep, but you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep no matter how tired you are. Or maybe all you can do is sleep and you can’t seem to stay awake to get the most basic things done. Whichever it is, your sleeping is completely screwed up and it’s not just because you have a newborn.
You can’t concentrate. You can’t focus. You can’t think of the words you want to say. You can’t remember what you were supposed to do. You can’t make a decision. You feel like you’re in a fog.
You feel disconnected. You feel strangely apart from everyone for some reason, like there’s an invisible wall between you and the rest of the world.
Maybe you’re doing everything right. You are exercising. You are taking your vitamins. You have a healthy spirituality. You do yoga. You’re thinking “Why can’t I just get over this?” You feel like you should be able to snap out of it, but you can’t.
You might be having thoughts of running away and leaving your family behind. Or you’ve thought of driving off the road, or taking too many pills, or finding some other way to end this misery.
You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.
*You may have postpartum anxiety or postpartum OCD if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

Your thoughts are racing. You can’t quiet your mind. You can’t settle down. You can’t relax.
You feel like you have to be doing something at all times. Cleaning bottles. Cleaning baby clothes. Cleaning the house. Doing work. Entertaining the baby. Checking on the baby.
You are worried. Really worried. All. The. Time. Am I doing this right? Will my husband come home from his trip? Will the baby wake up? Is the baby eating enough? Is there something wrong with the baby that I’m missing? No matter what anyone says to reassure you it doesn’t help.
You may be having disturbing thoughts. Thoughts that you’ve never had before. Scary thoughts that make you wonder whether you aren’t the person you thought you were. They fly into your head unwanted and you know they aren’t right, that this isn’t the real you, but they terrify you and they won’t go away. These thoughts may start with the words “What if …”
You are afraid to be alone with your baby because of the thoughts. You are also afraid of things in your house that could potentially cause harm, like kitchen knives or stairs, and you avoid them like the plague.
You have to check things constantly. Did I lock the door? Did I lock the car? Did I turn off the oven? Is the baby breathing?
You may be having physical symptoms like stomach cramps or headaches, shakiness or nausea. You might even have panic attacks.
You feel like a captive animal, pacing back and forth in a cage. Restless. On edge.
You can’t eat. You have no appetite.
You can’t sleep. You are so, so tired, but you can’t sleep.
You feel a sense of dread all the time, like something terrible is going to happen.
You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.
Now that you’ve gone through these lists are you thinking “How the heck does this lady know me? Is there a hidden camera in here?” Nope. What this should tell you is that you are NOT alone and you are NOT a freak and you are NOT highly unusual. If you are having these feelings and symptoms then it is possible you are experiencing common illnesses that 15 to 20% of new mothers have, and they are completely treatable. Just reach out for help (by state and country).

If you are having the symptoms listed above, call your doctor. There is no need to suffer. Perinatal mood and anxiety disorders are temporary and treatable with professional help.”

Remember: YOU ARE NOT ALONE. You are not crazy, nuts, or psycho.

Also…. yes, breast is best (and all that), but it’s waaaay more important that mommy is playing with a full deck of cards. If you need to stop b’fing in order to take the meds that you need to get better, it’s NOT a big deal. Our entire generation was raised on formula, and we’re FINE. (Read also: Letting Go of the Guilt from not Breastfeeding).

Dedicated To The Vagina I Love…

That’s the closing line of my acceptance speech at the glitzy awards ceremony when the Raising Ireland blog wins an Irish Blog Award this year. Good, innit?!

Except, I still kinda need you to help me get there. Please click on ‘Raising Ireland’ from the list HERE and if the blog post gets into the Top Ten, I promise I’ll get pregnant again straight away*

Cheers mates xxx

*There is no effing WAY I’m ever getting pregnant again. Are you for real?! ;o)

Breastfeeding Is Back

There is a marked difference in attitude, between when I had Jacob in 2011 and having now had Eva in 2014, so far as breastfeeding is concerned.

In 2011, I was uninspired, underwhelmed and slightly badgered by midwives and public health nurses about breastfeeding. It was just something I ‘should’ have been doing, and if I didn’t master it, I was a bit of a disappointment. Aside from that, I didn’t really feel like I had anyone around me who I could talk to about the whole process of breastfeeding, who was like me and who would offer practical advice.

As a consequence, I put my head in the sand about it and after about two and a half weeks of miserable breastfeeding attempts with Jacob, I fucked the breast pump across the room (narrowly missing Ass Monkey’s pretty head), smashed it against the kitchen sink, and that was the last my boobs and I spoke of it.

But in 2014, things have changed. I mean, there was still this conversation with an ole bitch at the maternity hospital when I was registering my pregnancy:

Ole Bitch: And do you plan on breastfeeding your baby?

Me: I do.

Ole Bitch: Did you breastfeed your first child?

Me: I did.

Ole Bitch: For how long?

Me: For approximately two and a half weeks.

Ole Bitch: (disappointed stare) What happened exactly?

Me: (already texting Ass Monkey to get into the room before I punched the head off her) EH I STOPPED BREASTFEEDING???

Regardless of Ole Bitch’s attempts to put me off forever – just to spite her – I’m happily combination feeding Eva boob and bottle, five weeks in. I still have absolutely no idea how I’ll breastfeed in public without having to take all my clothes off like I do at home, but for the moment, that’s fine with me because I’m not planning on going anywhere.

The difference is that I have much more positive and practical support this time. I now know about nipple guards and the best creams to use to ensure that I’m not in pain (because seriously, why would you put yourself through that? The sleep deprivation and the emotional roller coaster with a new baby is enough to contend with), and I also know SHIT LOADS OF AMAZING WOMEN WHO BREASTFEED.

Isn’t that the trick? That there are people we can all relate to who are showing us the way? (Who can forget ‘role model’ Jordan saying that she didn’t breastfeed her kids because ‘Boobs Are For Sex’? NICE ONE, ASSHOLE). That’s why I think this ‘Breastfeeding Buddy System’ from Friends of Breastfeeding is great. It is currently in the experimental stages but they will pair you up with someone who will support you through the whole process of breastfeeding, from getting comfortable doing it at home, to getting outdoors and breastfeeding in public for the first time.

If you’re interested in reading about it, or finding out how to sign up, click the link HERE

***It’s really important to stress that breastfeeding is not for everyone, and that’s ok. For many women, it isn’t ‘the most natural thing in the world’ that lots of people say it is. Whatever works for you is all that matters, make your own choices for you and your family and remember you are an Amazing Parent ;o)

Sharyn x

The Best Moany Preggo Video…EVER!!

As you are all well aware of how much I pissed and moaned during my pregnancy (thanks millions for putting up with me), we thought it might be fun to catalogue some of our most ridiculous comments and outbursts when we’re up the duff… and to record it forevvvvvaaahhhh.

So we want to make a cool video called ‘Sh*t Pregnant Women Say’ – featuring YOU!

If you have some funny phrases, one-liners or gripes that you have said while pregnant, simply put yourself on camera and send it on. Then you could star on our hilarious compilation of pregnancy moaners!

Here’s a few ideas to get you started:

1. I’d love some pate….or a smoke.

2. I haven’t had sex in 8 months.

3. Sorry I’m late, I’ve been throwing up all…month.

*Send your video file via wetransfer.com to info@raisingireland.com by August 30th. We can’t wait to see how pissy and moany you all are!!

My Left Boob

Ass Monkey has bought and made me some fabulous gifts in our time together. There was that time when we were first dating, after I had entrusted him with a spare key to my fab apartment (where I used to live alone and loved it. Can I go back please?!) – he let himself in a few times unbeknownst to me to measure up for, and then to craft and fit in, a bespoke writing table. It was at that point that I figured he maybe liked me a little bit…

Our first Xmas together; an iPhone – I cried. Our first Ikea trip when we had eventually moved in together, he insisted on buying those dressing room lights to fit over the mirror, just perfect for a rock star, he said. I cried again. In fact, I cried whenever Ass Monkey ever did anything nice for me – I must have been starved of love and attention before he came along ;o)

But I have never, ever been so enamored with him and his present buying than over the weekend, when he came home from Boots armed with a pair of nipple guards. I cried again, although this time with relief.

Since she was born, Eva has been happily feeding off my left boob and ignoring the right completely. In fact, she takes a couple of little sucks off the right and then bawls her head off as if I had just offered her some of my own cooking. Therefore, I had been pumping off my right, and feeding off my left, resulting in my left being very sore, and my right being very offended.

On consultation with my sage friend, Mrs. Doireann Langford, she too had experienced this same trouble – what she calls ‘The Shit Tit’ – and instructed us to the purchase of said nipple guards immediately.

And it worked! Eva is now happily feeding off both sides, despite the fact that her mother resembles an extra from a Lady GaGa video. Ass Monkey has never been so attracted to me…

Boots’ Own Brand Nipple Shields

Fact: Some Kids Are Just Bad Sleepers…

…and my kid is one of them. Jacob is delightful in many ways, but sleeping through the night is not one of his strengths. We originally blamed ourselves for moving house too much, unsettling him, not being strict enough about routine, not setting his room up correctly – too hot, too cold, too much milk before bed, nappies that weren’t absorbent enough and so he’d wet himself and have to be changed at 4am… and that’s just SOME of it.

We have tried absolutely everything to correct the situation: halved his daytime naps, cut his naps out completely, only let him nap before 2pm, brought him to soccer tots to try to tire him out, tried to chill him out with zero stimulation before bedtime, banned anything containing sugar after 4pm, early dinner, playtime, late bath, the Cry It Out method, the Fuck-It-I’m-So-Wrecked-I’ll-Sleep-In-Beside-Him method (I think I made that one up myself though), blackout blinds, 6 stories before bedtime, just a song or two before bedtime, Stay In Bed reward charts, Baby Neurofen, bottle before bed, no bottle before bed…. you catch my drift.

Ultimately, I think it may boil down to this: Jacob is just a shit sleeper. I have been up with him at least once – for a drink, for a cuddle, for a wee, for a chat, sometimes for a full-on row – AT LEAST once a night for the entire duration of this second pregnancy. Some nights I’m so pissed off, I want to hide downstairs in the kitchen and pretend it isn’t happening, and other times, I just think ‘It is what it is’ and get on with it until I can get him back to sleep.

But I was SO DELIGHTED to read this hilarious rant from another exhausted parent in the States, who read up on all the amazing Get Your Kid To Sleep advice when she was having no luck herself, realized how contradictory it all is, and lashed it together in a big rant on Tumblr. Read it HERE

The bottom line is this: every kid, every parent, every family and every house is different. What works for me may not work for you. Only you can decide what is best for you and your crazy kids.

(And by the way, pretty much all that is working for me at the moment is letting Jacob into our bed. SO SUE ME).

Preggo Watch: A Holy Show

Preggo Promo Shot For The ‘Up The Duff’ Show 2011

I didn’t have a ‘show’ with Jacob. Well, I did, but that was in The Sugar Club when I was 5 or 6 months’ pregnant and ‘Shazwanda’ was singing songs about only getting knocked up for the sake of the free buggy, free nappies and instant listing for social housing that she could get her hands on. Especially ‘coz she was a single mudder an’ all…

I have also made a holy show of myself before & since, but of that, I’m sure, you’re already well aware.

I am told that one must have a ‘show’ in order for labour to begin and take place – that if that mucus plug doesn’t dislodge itself and slither away, then how will the baby find it’s way to the light at the end of one’s, erm, tunnel?

As I did not bear witness to the departure of my mucus plug when I went into labour with Jacob, and as there is still, as yet, no sign of one on this pregnancy either, I have a few queries that I feel I need clarification on:

1: There is a lot of stuff going on ‘down there’ at the moment – A LOT. And mostly, due to the enormous size of my 41 weeks pregnant tummy, I can’t see what the fuck that is exactly. When I now go to the toilet, my main priorities are A) to try not to break the toilet seat with my fat arse, and B) to wait patiently until I assume I am done ejecting whatever my body is getting rid of at the time. And let me tell you, there has been a vast amount of ejecting lately – so how am I supposed to distinguish between super sonic pregnancy vaginal yuck and this Labour-Has-Begun-Show yuck? It’s all yuck to me.

2: If I use SuperValu’s own brand Blu Blocks in my cisterns (which I do, because I’m a clean freak and I don’t want to see what the toilet is really supposed to look like on any given day), then is it possible to LOSE the show underneath the sea of blue cover-upness, therefore assuming that it has never appeared?

3: Why do I assume that my ‘Show’ will only make an appearance when I go to the loo? Is this the most common place to locate the arrival of one’s show, or is it possible for it to make an entrance (or exit) with sparkling tiara and jazz hands at, say, the checkout of your local supermarket?

If anyone is brave enough to share their ‘Show’ stories, I’d love to hear them. Me, I’ve always been more partial to the Broadway kind of shows, but I’m willing to wager that I’ll be even more excited about this preggo one than I was about seeing Matilda (which you should totally go see btw; it’s amaaaaaazing)

Peace Out.

Love Sharyn ‘One Week Overdue WTF?!’ Hayden

[Have a click on ‘Preggo Watch: The Labour Farce’. It’s a pretty good read ;o) )