bubs about town - Diaries
 

Everybody has a story to tell. From every story we can laugh, cry, empathise, sympathise and even learn something. These pages are about some of our members sharing their journey's of impending parenthood for the first, second or even third times. How they cope with the emotions, the practicalities, the appointments and the other children. We hope you enjoy reading them, and sharing with them the highs and lows of pregnancy and family life. If you would like to become a diarist or share your thoughts with us please email us at info@bubsabouttown.com.au
 

First time mum

Week Twenty-Nine

“Where should I massage my wife during labour? Umm, I guess boobs isn’t the correct answer...”
- a Dad-to-be at our ante-natal class
 

It’s time for parenting classes and when I mention this to people they are extremely forth-coming with their hints, tips and opinions:

“Don’t watch the birthing video. It’s cheesy, and detailed: you can’t get out of it so why give yourself nightmares?”

“Keep an open-mind. Remember it is the opinion of one person only. Take what you want and adapt what doesn’t suit you.”

“Do NOT look at the epidural needle! I did and it scared me so much that I delayed getting an epidural for too long.”

My friend, Big S had lots to say about her experience just six months earlier. She got off to a bad start with her group, by cracking a joke about her biggest fear. “We were asked to introduce ourselves and I went first and said my fear is that I will have to be present during labour – and that I was still looking for a way to get out of it. Trying to lighten the mood, you know.”

Unfortunately the other parents-to-be didn’t share her sense of humour: their biggest fears consisted of having to use drugs during labour, not having a natural birth – all the serious stuff. “I was doomed from then on – none of them would talk to us.... I’m pretty sure some of them wanted to call DOCs ... but the sandwiches are good”

I’ve been really looking forward to the classes (and not just for the sandwiches) so I am feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I can’t wait to meet other parents-to-be (hopefully they aren’t all as serious as S’s group) and curious about what we will learn – and whether I will be any good at any of it! I know Paul has been feeling really nervous about the classes – just another example of things starting to feel ‘real’. We’ll see I guess...

So we’ve returned home from our first classed filled with mixed emotions.

The class, the instructor and all of the other parents-to-be were fantastic. Despite the reservations instilled by Big S’s humourless experience, everyone in our group was really friendly and fun. This definitely broke the ice and made the atmosphere relaxed and fun.

The dads-to-be especially lightened the mood with important issues such as “Is it possible to book my wife in for a boob job at the same time as the Caesarean?”, “Can I save money by asking the anaesthetist to administer the epidural and take photographs?” and “Could we start a business offering Brazilian waxes to women when they arrive in labour?”.

Some aspects were very overwhelming: just walking into the hospital, knowing this is where we are going to finally meet our baby, was so, so strange. We also learned about the stages of labour (apparently they aren’t: Oh that hurt a little bit, wow that hurt a lot and $%&@ that hurts bad!) and when to come to the hospital. But what was most confronting was talking about ‘unexpected outcomes’ and complications as well as what it is like to have a child with special needs. Very confronting! I guess having had a straight forward pregnancy so far it is easy to forget that things don’t always go according to plan.

All in all though it was terrific – we learned loads and I think we have made some new friends, with everyone exchanging details to meet up once all of the babies arrive! Startlingly enough, mine is the nearest due date (only by a week but still the first!) so all the mums-to-be are expected me to fill them all in. Talk about pressure!

Our heads buzzing with all that we learned, when Paul and I left we got half way home before one of us spoke.

Paul: “Wow.”
Me: “Yup.”
Paul: “And we’re really doing this?”
Me: “Yup”
Paul: “The sandwiches were good though”
 

Week Twenty-Eight

You know what it’s like when you buy a car and suddenly notice that model of car everywhere? Being pregnant is exactly the same (although instead of dealing with car-salesmen you visit an obstetrician – which in turns gives the phrase “looking under the hood” a whole new meaning). I never noticed pregnant women but now it seems like there are pregnant women everywhere.

Now, I’m not silly enough to think that there is some kind of baby boom at the moment, I am well aware that I am only seeing and taking notice because I am pregnant. I will admit that I do quite enjoy feeling like a part of a secret society – sharing a knowing look with other pregnant women or with new Mums as we pass each other. I wonder what the secret handshake would be? Possibly back arched forward hand resting at the base of the spine (as that seems to be how we all walk, unless we are waddling whilst balancing overfilled shopping bags).

Another recurrent mannerism I have seen in myself and other members of the club is the rubbing of the belly. Paul keeps catching me doing it, and he finds it quite exasperating. “What are you rubbing it for? Do you think a genie is going to come out?” Half the time I don’t even realise that I am doing it, and I can’t explain why I do it. (Despite this, if a genie was to appear - and don’t mentally picture exactly where the genie would emerge from - I’m pretty sure I’d wish for an alternative to labour, and ice-cream and a date with Jude Law).

Having thought long and hard, I think that the belly-rubbing phenomenon is a natural reaction to a change in your body – like when you get a new haircut and keep touching your head, or after a dentist cleans your teeth and you can’t stop running your tongue along them. A male colleague confessed that he thinks that it is attention-seeking behaviour. Like “just in case you haven’t noticed I’m pregnant”. But I think he is bitter about all of the parents with prams parking at Westfield.

I’m also finding myself seeing pregnancy everywhere on television, and finding myself drawn to pregnancy and baby-themed films and tv programmes. Paul has been away with work for 2 nights so I have had full reign of the TV and have watched nearly every DVD related to pregnancy in our collections.

My picks so far of the pregnancy-themed films, including my favourite quotes:

Juno (2007): Sixteen year old Juno finds herself pregnant and seeks a childless couple looking to adopt. Stars the brilliant Ellen Page and Michael Cera and features an amazing soundtrack.
Juno: Excuse me. I am a sacred vessel, alright? All you've got in your stomach is Taco Bell.

Waitress (2007): Unhappily married waitress Jenna falls for her OBGYN while creating unique pies based on the issues in her life. Starring Kerri Russel and Nathan Fillion
Jenna: I want drugs. I want massive amounts of drugs. I want the maximum legal limit of drugs.

Baby Mama (2008): Kate (played by Tina Fey) is a successful and single business woman, whom upon discovering she only has a million-to-one chance of conceiving hires working girl Angie to be her surrogate.

Angie: [as she enters the hospital, about to go into labor] It feels like I'm sh*@ting a knife!
Rosemary’s Baby (1968): Directed by Roman Polanski, this horror film centres around the pregnancy of a young woman played by Mia Farrow. Mysterious goings-on, witches, spells and death abound – and Rosemary’s baby turns out to be the (gasp!) son of Satan!
Minnie: He chose you, honey! From all the women in the world to be the mother of his only living son!

Knocked Up (2007): Slacker Ben and reporter Alison find themselves pregnant after a regrettable one-night stand. The unlikely pair (played by Katherine Heigl and Seth Rogen) attempt a relationship while Alison is pregnant.
Debbie: [to Alison] Are you the lady who doesn't realize she's pregnant until she's sitting on the toilet and the kid pops out?

Look Who’s Talking (1989): Everyone’s seen this film right? Bruce Willis voices baby Mikey as he observes the world, his mother (played by Kirstie Alley) and the cab driver (John Travolta) she meets whilst in labour.
Mollie: Why don't you try squeezing something the size of a watermelon out of an opening the size of a lemon and see how hot YOU look?

I’ve still got a few weeks to go, so suggestions for more pregnancy/baby films needed urgently! What are your favourites?

Week Twenty-Seven

This is our last goodbye / I hate to feel the love between us die.
But it's over / Just hear this and then I'll go:
You gave me more to live for, / More than you'll ever know.
- Jeff Buckley: ‘Last Goodbye’

Tis the end of an era.

As at 8am EST I no longer fit into my “fat” jeans. Holly Go-not-so-lightly.

My life is over.

For the past twenty-seven weeks all I have heard is how small I am, how I haven’t put on that much weight. I think that this has lulled me into a false sense of security (read: chocolate paddlepops and Twisties) and it is now catching up with me.

Just last week I had to abandon my beloved Bonds hipster undies. Seems my hips are no longer willing to remain contained within the hipster. Somehow the hipsters have managed to create the illusion of not only a muffin-top, but there was muffin-bottom and muffin spilling out the sides. So they had to go. Sigh.

I’ve spent the last 8 years or so refusing to wear anything else, so I don’t even know what other kinds of undies you can buy. I decided to purchase cheap undies – ever the optimist hoping that I can return to the hipsters eventually. Begrudgingly I replaced them with their nemesis: the nana-undies.

In comparison to the hipsters, the full brief (oxymoron anyone?) looks enormous. Like a small parachute. Hopefully they will only be temporary, plus I know no-one will be seeing me in them, so they will be my colossal underwear secret,

Replacing the underwear I could handle. But then it was Friday. Dreaded casual Friday.
I was having enough of a drama finding suitable work clothes, so casual Friday was always the staple – floaty top, jeans and ballet flats. My sass & bides had long been abandoned, but luckily I had a pair of jeans especially for my “fat” days to full back on.

That was until this week.

What am I going to wear now? Oh God.

Thus far I’ve avoided maternity clothes – I haven’t been able to find anything that I like, I refuse to wear elasticised waistbands, and I will not pay through the nose for stuff I won’t wear for long. Without jeans as the base item I am in big big trouble! And I’ve seen maternity jeans: oh dear God. Elastic. “Belly panel”. Urgh.

Time to go shopping.

Sticking to the chainstores, I found some plain Bonds Bumps dresses and tights at Big W and a couple of plain maxi-dresses (thank Gawd for the maxi-dress this season!) and over-sized tees at Target which should get me though the next couple of weeks.

I’ve also been agonising for weeks about appropriate hospital outfits: both for labour and post-delivery. I figure since the day my child is born is set to be the best day of my life, I need to put some serious thought into appropriate attire – I mean I spent months picking my wedding dress, right?

After much deliberation and consideration (comfort, fit pre and post labour, no logos, appropriateness of colour for – ahem – stains, see-throughness should I need use the shower, coverage of “bits”), I have finally selected a birthing outfit. An oversized mens Bonds singlet in black (good coverage and won’t go transparent when wet) and a plain pink nightie.

Bonds to the rescue! If only they did jeans ....

Week Twenty-Six

'I'd get out of the bath, and my husband and I would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and look at my reflection like I was a science experiment-like, Wow, look at that! Look what's happening over here!'
Debra Messing

I’ve been looking back over these entries and I’m saddened to notice how negative I seem to come across about the whole pregnancy-thing. Paul has already told me that we are only having one child because I complain too much about being pregnant!

Honestly though, despite my whinging, I am actually feeling really well at the moment! Okay so I often focus on the negative – discomfort, lack of sleep, lack of cocktails ... but aside from that I feel really well and I’m constantly in awe of my body.

I guess like most girls, I have a love/hate relationship with my body. I’ve spent 28 years poisoning it with junk food, alcohol and caffeine, while cursing it for frizzy hair, freckles and lack of any co-ordination. And yet here is my body, knowing exactly what to do – despite the fact that my brain has no idea about pregnancy and babies.

I’m marvelling at feeling movements, trying to figure out which bits are poking me and completely enthralled by the hiccups my baby seems to have all the time. I especially love it when Paul sleeps with his hand on my belly and he is able to feel it too.

Whilst I am still self-conscious about strangers staring at me or getting too hands on, I will admit that I have started to almost enjoy being asked questions and talking about my excitement – I guess it is slightly contagious!

Paul and I have also started preparing the nursery (yup ‘nursery’ is no longer a dirty word!), agonising over colour choices and furnishings. We have been trying to steer away from the ‘gender-neutral colours’ (yellow, cream, green) and have chosen a beautiful sky/aqua blue which we are going to team with cloud and tree wall decals. We figure this way we can ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ it up as appropriate: bird or animal decals for a girl, plane decals for a boy. We’ve also managed to find a rug and a feeding chair to suit our style, as well as a change table, bookcase and cot....

We are both really, really happy with how it has turned out and keep busting each other staring at the room when we walk past! Our new arrival now has a place to rest his or her head!

Now that stuff is starting to get done I am definitely feeling more and more excited. Perhaps the painting and preparing is a welcome distraction: something else to occupy my mind, even. Or it could just be a dose of ‘happy pregnancy hormones’. Whatever the reason for the mood-change, I’ve embraced being pregnant, and am beginning to accept that we will have a baby soon!
 
 

Week Twenty Five

“My name is Dave. At least I think that is my name: sometimes I think my parents may have just made it up”
- Dave Hughes

We have been staring at our baby name book for several weeks now. It proudly claims to have ‘over 100,001 names’ so surely there has to be at least two (a pink one and a blue one) that we can agree on? Ummm ... no.

I’m constantly nagging Paul to discuss names. Being so recognisably pregnant, I get asked what names we have chosen everyday. This means I think about it daily. I watch television and stare at all the names on the credits. I flick through books looking at the names of characters.

Paul, on the other hand gets to escape from the baby thing, and isn’t faced with a constant barrage of questions and interest from everyone. Plus, he keeps saying that we should find out the gender so we only have half as many names to come up with.

Every discussion that we have about names goes like this:
Me: “What about Alice for a girl”
Paul: “Nup. Too girly. What do you think of Spencer for a boy?”
Me: “Spencer? Spencer? Have you not seen ‘The Hills’? Do you like Thomas?”
Paul: “Thomas? I work with a Thomas and he is an idiot. I don’t want him to think I named my child after him”
And so on.

Of course everyone wants to give you their opinion on names too: “Jason. Promise me if it’s a boy you won’t call it Jason. I’ve never met an intelligent Jason. Always meat-heads” (apologies to any ‘Jasons’ reading this). And it is amazing how the same name can garner such different impression depending on the person. One person’s “Jason” is another person’s “Einstein”, I guess.

Personally, I prefer old school names (I am more likely to find names I like in the obituaries rather than the birth announcements: I like “Nana-names” as Paul calls them), as opposed to more contemporary ones. I am also big on the traditional spelling of names – no additional punctuation or silent Qs, thanks very much. My criteria for a name is something that is classic and won’t ‘date’, as well as one that has to be appropriate for both a child and an adult (so no middle-aged women called “Candy” or newborns called “Barry”). And no names of creepy reality-television stars.

Paul and I are pretty on par with these thoughts; however he tends to pay too much attention to the names’ meaning. He is extremely un-religious (is that a word?), so if a name has a Biblical origin, or reference to God he is immediately turned off it.

Finally, there is the obligatory ‘constructive feedback’ from those closely involved: the grandparents-to-be. Every time we see them we are asked if we are any closer to name, and offered many many suggestions.

Paul’s dad especially seems terrified that we are ‘going to call it something stupid’ (whatever that means) and is very vocal about wanting us to follow the family tradition of a son’s middle name being his father’s name. I’m all for tradition, but my dad and Paul’s share the same name so the only thing we HAVE decided is if we have a boy THAT will be the middle name. I’m worried that if we do have a boy that this will cause drama – that we have ignored family tradition – but we have agonised over it: plus I would like to have a reference to my family as well. Sigh. Paul thinks that once the baby comes they will all be so excited they won’t care if it is called Sponge Bob Square Pants ...

Hmmm .... Sponge Bob. At least it’s not Jason, I guess.