Life's Mysteries - Happy Birthday Sweet Baby Girl

It has been an incredibly exciting week for me with the lovely feature of last weeks party over on Amy Atlas - I have had so many emails and encouraging words which has been truly lovely - thank you dear friends.

Today however I am going to post about something completely different - something incredibly personal  and important in my life - I understand if the post is a little long and you don't make it all the way to the end.  I am sorry if in parts it is a little sad, but today's post is for me - a story I have never sat down to write until now - somehow the timing just fits for me at this point in my life - not sure if that means something?   If you have time have a read or maybe come back later - induldge me a little while I share my story.

I guess none of us know what life will deal us - we never know when we will have one of those magically years where everything falls into place and we definitely do not know when life will throw us tragedy.

Eight years ago today I experienced a day that changed my life for ever - a day of sadness and grief - it was the day my first born child arrived - a day that is supposed to be filled with smiles and tears of joy but for me this was not to be the case.  I have relived her birth over and over in my head - it feels like it was yesterday but it also feels like a lifetime ago - today however I feel the need to tell her story.

I had had a rough pregnancy - lots of morning sickness and lots of unexpected bleeding - the Doctors could find no reason for it but every few weeks I would have severe bleeding - not something you want when you are pregnant - I was having regular scans and being monitored closely and had been in and out of hospital as my doctor was concerned but it was not until in the third trimester of my pregnancy that scans picked up that our little girl was not growing well.  My placenta was not doing as it should and it was starting to affect her.  We were faced with an agonizing choice of getting her out early and hoping that she would be ok as she was still so tiny or leave her inside and pump me with drugs to help with her growth.  Whichever way we went there were major risks and no guarantees for success so we did what the Doctors suggested and pushed forward with the pregnancy as this in their opinion was the safest way for her to grow stronger.

I can not tell you how agonizing that time was - I felt like a walking time bomb - in the back of my mind I suspected that my baby was dying but she was alive inside me and that was all that mattered - my instincts told me things would not end well but while ever I was still carrying her I still had a little bit of hope.

It was at this time that I also met a wonderful lady named Deb - she was a social worker from the hospital - I could not understand why the Doctors and midwives thought it was important to talk to her - I did not really understand what a social worker did - what could she possibly do to help.  I distinctively remember her saying in that first meeting "I guess you are feeling like you need to distance yourself from this little person" - she was right - while I did not want this pregnancy to end for fear of the outcome I also wanted it to be over and be able to move on to a new pregnancy - one without complications - one without fear - one like my friends have - with a happy ending.

Tuesday 11th March 2003 - the morning arrived without anything to report.  Hubby was headed to Melbourne for a business trip for the day and two of my friends had decided to come over for coffee as I was not feeling one hundred percent and they wanted to check on me.  After the girls visited my mum came by to see how I was and we popped out to visit one of our suppliers as we were building a few houses at the time and things still needed to be done.  At around 4pm Mr A called from Melbourne to check on me and see if I thought it was ok that he stayed overnight in Melbourne as he still needed to finalise a few things from his meeting.

Of course at this stage nothing had changed so I told him to stay as I had a meeting to attend that night.  Off to the meeting I went at 7.30pm and I arrived home at around 9.45pm.  It was around this time that something didn't feel right.  I had become frightened to go to the bathroom and this time my fears came true - my heart sunk as I realised that the umbilical cord had started to fall out.  I phoned Mr A in a panic and he told me to just phone my friend Ann - Ann thankfully was one of my closest friends and she was a midwife.  She was just finishing her shift at the hospital so she came straight over.

She took one look at me and put me in the car and took me straight to the hospital.  She told me that it was the cord that I could see and I needed to prepare for the worst.  All I could think of was no this can't be happening now - Emilio is in Melbourne.  Ann settled me into a bed, phoned the Doctor to let him know the situation and they decided that it would be best if I slept the night and we waited until the morning to give Emilio time to return and we would induce labour.

I phoned mum to let her know where I was and then spoke with Emilio again who was feeling helpless.  By this stage it was around 11pm - Ann had told me to try and get some sleep and she would be back first thing in the morning.  The room was quite, I had been given a heat pack to use on my back and then suddenly it hit me - excruciating pain - uncontrollable pain - I was in labour.

I buzzed the little bell on my bed like a crazy woman - something is wrong the pain is so bad I can't stand it - I still don't think I realised what was going on - I still thought I had time.  Thank heavens Ann was still outside my room - she grabbed my arm and whispered "you are in labour and you are going to give birth now".  I never expected it to happen so fast.  As I sit and write this I still can't believe it happened so fast - only an hour before I was at home about to go to bed and now late on Tuesday evening I am here about to give birth to our baby without my husband to hold my hand.

At 11.10 pm our little angel arrived - the silence in the room was deafening - this is not the way it is meant to be - Ann and one other midwife - everyone was silent.  Ann looked at me as we both had tears streaming down our face and I asked - is it a boy or a girl?  We had never found out during the pregnancy but I always new it would be a girl - I remember vividly the moment Ann said "It's a girl" - I sobbed.  I was surprised then to hear the other midwife ask the question "Would you like to hold her".  To this day I am still a little surprised by this question but at the same time I have also learnt that everyone is different in their time of grief - all I could think of was "Of course, she is my child, I want her in my arms now".  Before I gave birth to her I wondered if I would be scared to see her but at that moment there was nothing else that mattered  - she was beautiful and she had been through an ordeal.

It is hard to describe the feeling in that room in the moments after - such sadness but such bittersweet joy that I was finally able to meet my little girl.  It was about 10 minutes after she was born that Emilio phoned once more.  Ann had to let him know what had happened - I cannot imagine the helplessness he must have felt being so far away from us and not being able to get back.

My mum arrived soon after, not realising also that our little baby was here already - it was such a sad time in our family as my poor mum had left dad at home very sick so for her to arrive to such sad news must have been so difficult.

I am sure that it was about this time that things went a little hazy for me - I remember my Doctor arriving and that there was an attempt to remove my placenta followed by which a fast decision was made that I needed to get to surgery as my placenta was not wanting to detach - ironic really after all it had put us through.

The next few hours are rather blurry for me as I am sure I went into survival mode until Emilio arrived back.  I know that Ann was there, my mum was there, my Doctor visited and another very kind doctor who I had met on a previous visit dropped in to say hello and offer his words of support.

It was around mid morning that Emilio finally arrived and everyone just let the three of us be together.  I had not named her as we had not made a final decision on what her name should be prior to her arrival - I needed Emilio to be with me for this important decision.  We decided to call her Laura - it seemed perfect for her.  It was not the name we had planned for our first born but it was perfect for her - delicate and pretty - just like she was.

Our lovely social worker Deb arrived soon after and thankfully she was armed with a camera - not something I had even considered as I left home the night before.  The photos that Deb took are amongst my most prized possessions and I will forever be grateful to her for capturing this time for us.

She captured our wonderful priest giving her a blessing. Photos of her tiny feet and hands.  Photos of us as a family.


We spent the day at the hospital with her - scared to leave for fear of what would happen next - who would look after her after we went home.  Would we be able to see her again.

I remember that moment - the moment we left the hospital - by ourselves - without our little girl.  Disbelief.  Lost.  Empty.
But so proud to have a beautiful little girl.
Laura gave so much to our family - she helped me to understand the meaning of unconditional love - she has taught me that things don't always go to plan, she taught me that you can get through the tough times, she taught that hope is a wonderful thing and she gave a gift to our family that nobody else could - the gift of reconnection.

Of course Laura's story does not end here however today, on her 8th birthday I needed to write about her arrival, so I will finish up - grateful to have her in my life and proud of who she is to Emilio, myself and her three sisters.

Happy Birthday my sweet baby girl - we love you so so much and you are always by our side.


If you are still here I thank you for taking the time to read today's post - raising the awareness of stillbirth is something I am so very passionate about as statistic are still frighteningly high.  If you would like more information about this please visit the Stillbirth Foundation Australia's website here.


Leanne

lOVE it



a little piece of inspiration found here

The 2.30am Google Search

If ever you have found yourself typing the likes of 'treating baby constipation' into Google at 2.30am... you will relate to the night I had last night.

1.00am and I awake to the unfamiliar sound of Elliott moaning from his bedroom. I lie listening for a few minutes, waiting for him to go back to sleep as usual.

1.10am and Elliott still making unhappy noises. Getting more persistent now. I get up, and go into his bedroom. He stares unhappily up at me, and I get him out of bed to give him a quick feed. Maybe he's hungry, he went to sleep at 6.30pm last night and it's not characteristic for him to wake through the night. If ever I do feed Elliott through the night, he goes back down without any fuss and I don't hear from him til morning. This time, I place him back into bed, tuck him in firmly and go back to my own room.

1.50am and there are noises emanating from Elliott's room again. I lay listening again for a while. Noises getting louder, steadily progressive into full-blown crying. What the?

2.00am and I feed Elliott on the other side (yes, I've thrown the book out the window) to try to settle him. He's not really interested and I nervously place him back into bed. I give him his Flatout bear. I pat him on the chest and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. I kiss him and tell him I love him and its time to go to sleep. Normally works every time.

2.15am and Elliott shrieking. I bring him into bed with us. What is going on? For the first time in Elliott's life I seriously worry that he will wake up Fern (it is normally the other way around!) He's never slept with us before, so this is a desperate measure for me to take. I lie him down between us. The crying gets louder. We pick him up. Rock him. Lie him back down. Pat his tummy. Nothing nothing nothing.

2.30am and Dan and I are growling at one another, there was nothing in our marriage vows about playing-nice at 2.30am when weve been awake for an hour-and-a-half with a screaming baby. We have no idea what to do. Elliott does not do this, he doesn't have a temperature. He's not hungry. He's warm.

And he hasn't done a poo in days.

My poor baby does not seem to be coping digestively well with the introduction of solids. He's onto three meals a day now, made primarily of pureed vegetables and some fruit and his little body does not seem to be able to keep up with taking out the garbage, so to speak.

Does this look a child capable of causing any grief?!

Dan desperately blows raspberries onto Elliott's tummy, making him laugh while I google "constipation". Prune juice might help, they say. Prune juice? Am I really going to have to make a trip out to Coles at 2.30am to buy prune juice??

Elliott is now past the point of tired. Laughter turns into hysteria, and I have never seen him so upset in the entire six months he has been alive. The miracle is, Fern is somehow still asleep though I have serious doubts about the rest of the street. I go down the medicine chest to grab the baby panadol, to try to alleviate the tummy pain. When I come back, Dan is slowly pacing the bedroom with Elliott limp in his arms. He's fallen asleep, little body heavy and arms flailing out to the sides...

We carry him slowly back to bed and tuck him back in.

8.15am I awake to Elliott talking to himself and sunlight streaming through the window. Sunlight? Normally I awake to darkness and the sound of Fern demanding milk. My daughter has just pulled a 13.5 hour sleep and I can hear her talking softly to herself. And Elliott? He's happily playing with his soft toys, like nothing ever happened.

I get up, make a double-shot-flat-white while Dan throws himself in the shower. Alarm clocks have not been necessary for over 2 years at our place, but this morning he is going to be late for work! He leaves the house without time for breakfast, and I wearily take the two kids out to the kitchen. I test an unproven theory of mine about the merits of pre-packaged baby food and spoon some apple & mango puree I have stored in the cupboard for emergencies into Elliott's bowl.

Half an hour later I take him into his room and place him on the change table. Sure enough. 3 or 4 days of backlog, cocooned in one nappy. He's smiling.

I place him back into bed. He goes to sleep immediately and he's still there now, slumbering peacefully away as I type. Meanwhile, I'm a sleep deprived wreck! I'd forgotten how awful it feels...


I'm not sure why I'm sharing this. To rationalise it in my own head, perhaps? Have any of you had this happen to your babies? Do you have a proven remedy to get the digestive system back on track? Is prune juice a myth or does it really work? Please share, because I don't think I can go through another night like last night, and it makes me ill to think of my baby suffering...

Thankyou, friends.

Need a laugh???


I seriously could not breath I was laughing so hard at this!
This is the cutest and funniest video I have ever seen in my life!
What an absolute angel! What a Joy!






After a tough week this is just what I needed! 
A GOOD LAUGH
Hope this puts a smile on your face today :-)

HAPPY FRIDAY

x S.K.K x

Orange Cupcake Supplies

Having the time of day

Aside from that exact moment when my butt hits the bedsheets at the end of a long one, twilight is my favourite time of day. The winding down of a full day is like the soothing tick-tock of life's true rhythm.

Sometimes we head to the beach in the late afternoon, to swim in the fading daylight. The waves are calmer and everything has a pinkish-hue as if rose-coloured glasses are suddenly the norm.

We often grab a glass of wine and sit out on our front verandah, watching the day shut up shop. If we're feeling generous, the Tsunamis are allowed out to roam the front garden and the reserve, looking for insects and trouble. Watching them amble about, all scrubbed and pajaymaed, is like a balm at day's end.  And, of course, they are never better behaved or more loving then when the threat of straight-to-bed is looming.

Twilight: I love it here.

What's your favourite time of the day? Are you one of those early-birds who greets the dawn? If you are, do reveal how you manage to bound out of bed in the dark day after day because I've done that once and I've suffered from PTSD ever since...

[Image via the dreded weheartit. Note that if you are Team WTF I wouldn't recommend doing an image search for 'twilight'... 'dusk' is preferable!]