V-Day... Funny that it rhymes with D-Day

So although we talk about it, neither of us are big valentines day celebrators. I was lucky enough to get a surprise bunch of flowers our very first V-Day together 5 years ago and a few cards since then. But what I like most about not getting anything on the day itself is that it proves that you cannot show how much you love a person just on that particular day and that every other day of he year is equally as important in telling them how much they mean to you.

I know... Pretty deep right?

Between nightfeeds, my manic obsession with wedding-planning (yes I know I am still to update you on the progress of this) and trying to get as much sleep as possible, Simon and I don't get alot of time to be just us.

And so next week we are going to hit up the movies, get some dinner and leave the boys at home (supervised of course) and enjoy our own special day exactly one year from when Simon popped that magical question - even if that day doesn't begin with V.

xoxo

Day 3. Landscaping: From Mudbox to Not-So-Mudbox.

Right. Motivation you are my friend. And here is the latest details of our landscaping escapades.

So now that I'm off on Maternity Leave and no longer sporting a large bump that made even the smallest of outdoor activities impossible - we have been able to try our hand at a small amount of landscaping in our front yard.

We started off a few weeks ago, leveling out the earth on the side fence near the driveway and pinned down some weed matting.

Then after a productive trip to Barwicks and through some impressive towing by the Territory we were able to pick up a trailer-load of White Quartz pebbles.

We can now happily say that our front yard looks at least started... although who knows when we'll actually finish it? It is a mystery!

Lookout tomorrow for Day 4. Wedding Matters.

xoxo

Day 2: Christmas Capers

Wow. I'm lazy. No other excuse for the delay really.

Anyway.

Christmas this year. To be honest, Simon and I weren't really preparing for Christmas at all - it hit us pretty quickly and I know we both were still in a sleep-deprived state when Christmas Eve arrived.

FAMILY 1: MY MUMS

Celebrating with my mum's side on Christmas eve was great. We got to introduce Henry to most of my family and enjoy a variety of delicious meats and roast vegetables.  Both boys were incredibly spoilt (this should've been an indicator on how the rest of Christmas would be for us).

CHRISTMAS MORNING

We woke early on Christmas morning and of course Santa was very generous too. Henry got his own Cabbage Patch doll and once again... we had another girl! So welcome Lannie to our family :)

Charlie was lucky enough to get a Leap Frog Junior Tag (a book that reads to him) which was pretty cool. Daddy 2 PS3 games (like he needs the distraction) Oh and what did mummy get? A CD from Michael Buble? Yes, yes she did. Happiness on a disk.

FAMILY 2: SIMON'S DADS

We only had to head around the corner to get to our Christmas breakfast (making it much easier to work the boys out) with Simon's dad side of the family.  Amidst a breakfast of Christmas Ham on toast and a very-welcomed cup of tea the boys were once again spoilt. They also got to see their gran-nan who came down to visit from NSW.

FAMILY 3: SIMON'S MUMS

Our last stop for Christmas day was with Simon's Mums side of the family.  It was a very relaxed lunch in which the boys were showered with generous presents again (have you noticed a pattern yet?!) It was a lovely end to what had been a lovely day.

We headed home after this and pretty much just collapsed on the couch in true Christmas-day fashion. We had a final visit from my parents but that was pretty much it.

Yet another Christmas conquered and thoroughly enjoyed.

Lookout tomorrow for Day 3. Landscaping: From Mudbox to Not-So-Mudbox.
xoxo

Day 1: The Arrival of Master Henry

So as promised here I am, ignoring my ever-growing pile of washing and promising myself I will attack it tomorrow. Just so I can spend a few minutes giving you the play-by-play on how Henry came to join us.

It all began on Wednesday 7th December. I had an appointment with my obstetrician in the morning. She checked me over, had a squiz on the little TV at Dash and then rang the hospital to book me in for the following Monday (12/12/2011) to be induced.  I was not really paying too much attention but I have this vague idea she had mentioned something about me already being 1-2cms dilated and that if labour began over the weekend with my track record of being super quick, I was to go straight in if I started getting contractions.

Scared much? Yes, yes I was. Mostly because I still hadn't finished work and I REALLY wanted to make it to my work Christmas dinner that Saturday night.

Spent the day with Charlie-Bugg not thinking too much more of it although dealing with some uncomfortable tummy cramps, and then that night headed to what would be my last Hydrotherapy class. I filled in my good friend Jess on my latest pregnancy details (and she filled me in on hers - this is what we always did on Wednesday nights whilst we floated about in the pool) and midway through our pool circuit, actually it was when I was doing these floating push-up things... I got one. A really painful contraction had hit me and I had to freeze. I knew straight away it wasn't Braxton Hicks and I wondered how on earth I'd ever thought they compared to the real thing.

I copped several more over my time in the pool and on my way home.  After putting Charlie to bed later that night I realised they were getting more intense and of course this caused me to pretty much go into panic mode. I hadn't nested at all this time around and all of a sudden I found myself trying to clean my house top to bottom. I had a shower, shaved my legs, stuffed extra clothes in my maternity bag... I remember quite clearly panicking that the cat litter was dirty and that I'd have to clean it before I left (you know, because it would've been a life or death situation if it was left unclean).

Simon throughout all of this had been at Cricket training and when he arrived home I was in full swing rushing about the house. I do recall quite calmly saying to him when he walked through the door "I don't want to freak you out or anything, but I'm in labour. These are not Braxton Hicks" and his response was "Are you sure?" Enter facepalm. Of course I was sure.

I rang my mum who headed on down to take care of Charlie in case he woke during the night and at about 11.30pm we headed in to the hospital to get checked out.

The following extract is from the notes application on my iPhone. I barely remember writing any of the following... and I promise you it's word for word.

07/12/2011
11.30pm - Arrive at hospital.
11.40pm - Use the secret back entrance thru emergency where we are met by the lovely nurse Kate. She is my favourite nurse so far in the world of nursing.
11.50pm - Listen to heartbeat/trace contractions. They've slowed down from when we were at home. Bastards making a liar out of me.

08/12/2011

12.20am - T-Dawg (Obstetrician) says to stay in and if I haven't gone into full labour by myself, in the morning she is going to rupture my membranes and bring that shit on. Eeep.

1.10am - Get Panadene Forte and sleeping tablets.

1.15am - Sandwiches and yogurt.

1.30am - Realise I feel drunk for the first time in months courtesy of aforementioned medication and cant wait to sleep...

2.00am - Wake momentarily and realise I've just slobbered all over my hand and pillow. Still feel like a space cadet.

2.10am - Drink some water and try to go back to sleep. Contractions when resting are about 10minutes apart. So stay put! Keep them that way.

6.10am - Woke up a while ago. Needed to pee but couldn't stand up on my own. Poor Simon had to stabilise me to the loo and back. Embarrassing! Now I'm awake again. Haven't felt a contraction for a while - perhaps the painkillers have made them easier to handle or they've just stopped. I'd better monitor Dash's movements too...

6.15am - Kate put the Trace back on. Plenty of kicks from bub. Only 2 contractions though and they weren't that painful.  Don't know what that means in the scheme of things yet...

7.00am - Breakfast. Allbran is shit.

8.15am - T-Dawg comes in to see me, has a bit of a poke. I'm 3-4cm dilated. She says to go for a stroll to try and egg the process along. Otherwise I can go home and rest up.

8.40am - Botanical Gardens. Sunshine. Perfect for a stroll this early in the morning :)
9.55am - Get back to hospital, nearly cry because of pain on arrival - not sure if the walk has actually stirred things along or not.
11.50am - Space cadet - on the gas.

Basically that's as far as I was consciously able to keep up with. From when they broke my waters at 11.30am I got on the gas, man that stuff tastes like crap. And when it wasn't feeling like enough (besides making me dizzy) I asked for a shot of pethidine. Next labour around I will do no such thing. That stuff is rubbish and does not work. I could still feel every bit of pain but couldn't talk or open my eyes because the room wouldn't stop spinning. What a waste of drugs!

Anywho, after a whole lot of pushing at 2.30pm the midwife finally told me to start doing little breaths after all that hard pushing and I knew it was time for him to come out and I just had this massive flood of relief in my body followed by this tiny little cry and a whole bunch of people saying how wonderful I was and that it was over and then this tiny little blueberry was put on my chest.

Then they took him away again to check him and and then I got him back and I knew he was going to be called Henry and he was just so tiny and I was so overwhelmed and to be honest it is level-pegging as my favourite moment of my life along with when Charlie came into the world.

He started feeding well, and I started to recover almost as soon as it was over. He was tiny (5lb11ozs) and if it hadn't been that the nurses just wanted to keep an eye on him for a few extra days, I would've asked to go home the following day. I amazed myself at how quickly my body knew what to do in regards to getting itself back to it's non-baby state.

And if you were wondering I still got to go to my Christmas dinner - they actually gave me a leave-pass from the hospital, just for an hour or so. And gosh that was lovely (and I really enjoyed the looks on everyone's faces when I rocked up!)

The funny thing about the days after Henry was born - my friend Jess actually went into labour herself and two days after I had given birth she did the same. To a perfect little girl quite gorgeously named Adele.

But most importantly I had my second son, and he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Introducing him to his older brother was simply beautiful and I have to admit even I didn't think their first meeting would go so well. All Charlie wanted to do was give his new little brother 'Han-ray' a kiss.

Magical. And even now, a month on it is still magical. Every single day.

Lookout tomorrow for Day 2. Christmas Capers.

xoxo

Underground...

This is where I have been for the last month. Deep, deep underground and completely cut off from civilization (this is a tiny exaggeration - i cant help myself) It's not that I've been trying to avoid the blog it's just the thought of spending a few moments on something other than being a mum is too daunting - well either that or I've been asleep. Actually I should be sleeping right now... Hmm, anyways...

But I'm promising here and now a 5 day plan to get you up to speed with our whirlwind lifestyle that I have been keeping from you.

Day 1. Henry and all about how he came into this wide world
Day 2. Christmas and all the fattening Yuletide it gave us
Day 3. Landscaping the Barron wasteland that is our backyard
Day 4 and 5. The return of 'Of Course I'll Marry You' and a fully detailed update of where we sit with our planning.

So there is much to be thrown your way - you have been warned :)

xoxo

I am not early, I am here exactly when I wanted to be.

This I'm sure is what Henry Peter Whitmore would say if he was able to muster up the vocab and energy.

It has been a whirlwind day - marked halfway by the arrival of 'Dash' at 2.30pm and weighing in at 5lb11oz.

I promise I will do this story justice. I made sure I documented some of my exploits so the random pregnant ravings should prove to be a hoot.

But for now I will leave you with this...

xoxo

Not long now...

I'm almost 37 weeks pregnant. Only 1 more week of work to go. I actually think my body is going to shut down before my inducement date (still a secret - I'm so proud for not telling anyone!)

And I'm so effing tired all the time.

Even if it stuffs up my working plans, I don't care anymore. If Dash decided to pop out tomorrow I'd be OK with that. So very very over being preggers.

xoxo

Sleep is for the weak...

Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. It's all I want to do and when I finally get the chance to indulge in some extra Zzz's, I cannot for the life of me catch any. It, I must say, is so frustrating!

Braxton Hicks - the practice contractions you sometimes are unlucky enough to cop when you're up the duff, are probably the only thing worse than the sleep deprivation. Some of my finer efforts include laying on my side, unable to move/speak/breath for several seconds while the tightening makes itself at home in my uterus and the embarrassing moment where I try and stretch through a wave of them at traffic lights in the car and later realise anyone who had pulled up beside me must've thought I was a bit of a weirdo.

But, I am blessed with the thought that I am 36 weeks pregnant. Technically I've only got 4 weeks left of this uncomfortably wonderful time - but I know how many days less than 4 weeks I've got before they induce me - and just because I haven't told you doesn't mean I'm not quietly shitting myself that I won't even make it that far.

Ok. Rant over. Bed time. Night all.

xoxo

A 'Just Me' Day.

So the vibe I've been getting from pretty much all around me is that I'm not resting enough. Honestly, it's not as though I'm out to run a marathon or save the world - all I'm trying to do is keep my house functioning and raise an overly-active toddler.

OK so maybe that is pretty hard work at the best of times.

Anyway, this brings me to the point of today. It was one of my final days off in my last few weeks before maternity leave starts (3 weeks left and of those 3 weeks, only 11 work days to go!) And as I had the entire day off without Charlie or Simon it was pretty obvious what I needed to do - Ignore the housework and relax.

So I started my morning with a leisurely cup of tea and some toast, mucked about on the laptop for a bit and snoozed ever so slightly in between.

After I'd exhausted all avenues on my laptop for entertainment I decided to run a bath - something I rarely do and yet seem to overly enjoy when I actually do get the time for one. Below you will see exactly how awesome our bathtub can look when all of the bath toys are removed and a few fancy candles are strategically placed around. Posh.

Following this long and much appreciated bath, I managed to do something I'm sure many pregnant women wish they could - shave my legs. Boys you may laugh at this but well, you are reading a pregnant woman's blog and this is the kind of shit I post about. You have no idea how freaking proud I was that I managed to stop them looking like cactus poles. Ahem... Moving along.

A trip to Savoy Baths later and one Baby Back Massage (where you get to use the funny little pregnancy table with the hole in the middle for your bump) later I was feeling pretty relaxed. I mean - I could've just melted into the pavement in the bus mall as I stepped out of the building. If you'd seen me you would've thought I was possibly off my face. I guess hormonally I am always off my face lately so actually you would've been right.

What better way to finish up my glamorous 'Me' day than to indulge in some Chocolate Coma-Inducing goodies. Which is what I did. At Dome, I think Dash quite liked this bit because he went a bit nuts rolypolying afterwards.

I must say - I like these 'Me' days. I think I'll have a few more of them as often as I can. And now that Charlie is off at his grandparents and Simon is at Beerfest I've got the house to myself, the bed to myself and... wow... This is possibly the best day of the last few weeks by far!

xoxo

And the final result...

Everything is fine. I knew I was getting myself worked up over nothing. But it is better to be safe than sorry.

I did manage to stay home through the night and just called my Obs office in the morning and they instructed me to waddle on in to the hospital.

Not wanting to argue with a medical professional I did as instructed and made my way there. Once sitting in a birthing suite (did that freak me out just a tiny bit? Yes it did) a very nice nurse named Sally put those listening disk things (absolutely the technical term for them) on my ol' tum and for 30 minutes I got to do one of my favourite things in pregnancy - listen to my baby's heartbeat.

That boy is most certainly a mover and a shaker - he wriggled and jiggled and even got a round of hiccups at one point. Very cute.

But the main educational learning of the visit is that A) Braxton Hicks are more common in second pregnancies, B) You are more likely to have heaps of the bloody things and they are more likely to hurt like hell, and C) You basically have to just suck it up and ignore them because they probably won't stop.

So I have a fun last few weeks ahead of me.

Very much so looking forward to meeting my baby boy - But I am happy to wait a few more weeks for him to get bigger and stronger first.

xoxo