I miss having a pram

If you are new to the parenting gig or still have young babies at home you will almost definitely have heard at least one person tell you to ‘savour every moment’ or to ‘enjoy this time because it goes so quickly’ or something along those lines. And you may be like me and think quietly to yourself ‘ummmm… I didn’t ask you and having a baby is hard work and can’t you see I’m exhausted and who the fuck gives unsolicited advice to a stranger at the shopping centre anyway??!” Or you may be far more gracious and evolved than that and smile and say “I know” because you may actually know.

I’m not here to tell you those things. Because you didn’t ask and you probably are absolutely exhausted and I know better than to mess with an exhausted mamma with a kid on her boob and quite possibly another one drawing on the sofa in permanent texta.

What I will tell you in ALL MY WISDOM AND EXPERIENCE is that there are some things about those days that you’re in the midst of that I miss. Oh, don’t worry, I’m as shocked as you are.

I miss having a pram.

I loved the moment that I passed my boys’ prams on to my sister-in-law. It heralded the day of grown-up little boys who could walk next me and I had so much more room in my boot! But man, shopping was so much easier with a pram! Now when I go shopping I have to actually CARRY all the bags. I have to hold my coffee and there’s nowhere to hang all the clothes I’m considering buying as I continue browsing. Plus, when my kids whinge that they’re tired I have to actually do something about it instead of just leaning back the seat and suggesting they close their eyes for a minute [hour]. Also, the best parks in the shopping centres are the PRAM PARKS. I miss them too.

I miss being fat.

Easy everyone. I’m allowed to say ‘fat’. I really was fat when I was pregnant. I put on 20kg with my first and 25kg with my second. Those babies were both under 3.5kgs so god knows what I needed all the rest of that extra ‘me’ for but man was there extra! Even my face was big. It was an uncomfortable time and I felt like I was pushing maximum density but it was also so liberating! I was huge and it was wonderful. No hiding it. No sucking anything in or covering up. I was loud and proud pregnant. Now I’m all like ‘does my bum look big in everything?’ when before I just didn’t care. Did. Not. Care. I miss that.

I miss breastfeeding in the middle of the night.

I cannot believe I’m saying this. I seriously can’t but I really, really do miss it. Yeah it’s tiring. Yeah there were many, many nights that I desperately hoped my son would sleep through. Yeah I resented my husband plenty of times for being able to continue sleeping while I was y’know nourishing his child with my body with milk that I made. But here’s the thing. I made milk, people. I created life and then I made the only food that went into that human being for six months. I was the sole reason that baby was alive and thriving. And sometimes, in the fog of exhaustion, all of that was clear to me and those moments were some of the most validating and empowering moments of my entire life. And the love! Oh my stars the love. In the dead of night when it felt like the rest of the entire world was sleeping and it was just me and my son together in the lamp-light and there was nowhere else I needed to be [except asleep in bed] and nothing else needed my attention and there was nothing more important than feeding my baby [except sleeping] it was possible to just drink in the preciousness of the moment. Now I have to negotiate in terrorism-esque conditions just to have him finish off his dinner and put his plate in the dishwasher without scowling. Ungrateful. He used to adore me.

I miss the warmth of carrying a baby next to my heart.

Ok so I think I miss this so much at the moment because it is bloody FREEZING this winter. I’m putting on the electric blanket and going to bed at 8.30pm just to defrost my brain so I can think straight. I remember when my babies were permanently attached to me and they were so warm! Their little swaddled bodies rested against my heart and my days were spent kissing their sweet warm, round heads. I miss the feeling of cold when I would put them down [you should NEVER let your baby sleep in your arms all day – I can’t remember the reason why but apparently it was very bad parenting] like something was missing from me. My babies kept me warm and I miss the pureness of that. Now I’m too scared to kiss their head because I’m sure they never actually wash their face in the shower and who knows what hideous germs they’ve brought home from school on that head.

I miss stewing fruit and vegetables.

Oh those early solids! It used to drive me nuts having all those little ziplock bags full of various cubes of pureed food in the freezer. Organic fruits, veggies and meats all labeled and dated. What a hassle! What a moron. That was paradise. Going out for the day? Just pop a selection of ice-cubes in your snack pack next to the teething rusks and you’re good to go! Nowadays I’ve got to pack two different types of sandwiches, drinks, chips and be expected to fork out for a treat [which will definitely NOT be organic] while we’re out. And I’ll have to remind them AGAIN to use their manners. And stop kicking each other.

I miss changing nappies.

Nappies. Blegh. Except they’re not blegh. They were [usually] well-contained, sanitary human waste options. Sure, they cost a fortune but I had those awesome, scented nappy disposal bags which just packaged them up and in the bin. And those cute little bums that were all lovely and clean ‘cause I could use wet wipes were delightful! Now? There’s piss on the seat and on the bathroom floor. There’s shit stuck on the side of the toilet bowl and skid marks in jocks. Those bums are at the end of very long, skinny, hairy legs with dirty knees. I miss changing nappies.

I miss rocking a baby to sleep.

JUST GO TO SLEEP! I remember thinking this a million times. Yes, really – ONE MILLION TIMES. When my boys were babies, I was obsessed with getting them to sleep. OB.SESSED. Them? Not so much. How hard is it? “YOU’RE TIRED BABY. Close your eyes and go to sleep. Here, watch how easy it is for Mummy.” I hated being in those trenches. But fuck I miss it now. Rocking a baby to sleep is a walk in the park compared to sending a defiant 10 year old to bed. Pat, pat, pat and a bit of singing vs an all-out screaming match with threats of taking away everything that’s in any way important in the 10 year old life? It’s a no-brainer. Pass me that baby.

I miss toddler tantrums.

Toddlers are hard work. They are demanding and inflexible on so many levels. They’re loud and emotional and exhausting. Just when you think you’ve worked them out, they do a full 180 [figuratively, emotionally and sometimes physically] and you’re left standing there with triangle toast pieces thrown all over the floor and a crying monster screaming that they only eat squares. There were some days that I didn’t think I could cope. Coping was a breeze. How easy is it to make another piece of toast and cut it properly? Or clean up the toast from the floor and ignore their screaming until they wore themselves out? Or even distract them? Tantrums these days involve slamming doors and stand-offs that last hours and harsh consequences. And I reckon I’m not far off the dreaded ‘I hate you!’. Yep, toddler tantrums were a walk in the park by comparison.

I miss living by a 24 hour clock.

I hated living by a 24 hour clock. It was relentless but now I miss it. I miss the time when the only commitments I needed to meet were bath time, tummy time and the next feed. When I could lose HOURS of my day encouraging my son to roll and nothing else would be affected by that lost time. When that was not even considered ‘lost time’. That was called parenting and the things my baby did was called development. Now it’s all actions and consequences and attitude. LOTS of attitude.

What do you miss that you never you never thought you would?

The Great Boob Debate

For days all I have seen are discussions about boobs. 

So, I got on board the booby train and started by watching the Kochie segment from Sunrise where he says breastfeeding mums should be 'classy'. This segment has caused apparent outrage within mum communities Australia-wide.

It disturbed me. But, it would seem, not for the same opinion of majority.

WHAT is the big deal? He raised it as a topic of discussion with his own, not unreasonable, opinion and then listened and took on what the women on his panel had to say. Big deal. It didn't offend me AT ALL. It was controversial and on topic and a very clever ratings choice. Plus, he's an older, conservative bloke. Who cares what he thinks?

I breastfed both my boys until after their 1st birthdays. I did so on demand and I did so publicly. I did it in restaurants, in parks, at parties, walking around at kindergym. I never felt ashamed or unwelcome but I did consider where I was and who I was with. Is that an archaic thought? Or is that polite?

I loved the parent rooms at shopping centres. I would seek them out to breastfeed my babies in. Especially when I had a toddler in tow. Not because I felt the need to hide from the public eye. I found it relaxing to sit there in a comfy chair which usually had an arm rest to... wait for it... rest on. Where I could watch my other son safely playing nearby and where my baby could enjoy a full feed instead of being distracted by what was happening around us and coming on and off and on and off and on and off... you get the picture.

My father-in-law [JP] was in his 70's when my son Nathan, his first grand child, was born. He was extremely invested in him and not only fully supported my decision to breastfeed, but expected me to. "Why you feed from bottle when you have your own milk?" JP would often come and spend the day with me and Nathan while my husband was at work to keep me company, make me lunch and help out around the house. Pretty progressive for a 70 year old Ukrainian man. But, he felt uneasy being in the room with me when I breastfed. He would politely leave the room or hilariously talk to me from the doorway, looking at the ceiling or the floor or his hands. So I knew, if I needed to breastfeed around him wherever we were, that he would appreciate me being respectful of that. Did that make me feel dirty or ashamed or unsupported? Not at all. My 30 something brother was exactly the same. He would up and leave the room the minute he saw me reaching for my enormous maternity bra clip. He called my breastfeeding 'lactaaaaaaaaysions' [drawn out exactly like that] and would run out the room saying [sometimes screaming] "Oh my God, Tania's got her lactaaaaaaaaysions again". Did that offend me? Not at all. Did I laugh? Almost every time.

Yes, breastfeeding is natural. Yes, as mothers, we have the right to feed our babies wherever and whenever they need to be fed. No, it's not sexual or suggestive. Yes, many fashion choices today actually show more flesh than a breastfeeding mum. Unless the breastfeeding baby is like my youngest Stefan. A baby who was on the boob every two hours but would have no problem coming off and having a look around for, I don't know a minute that felt like an hour, while my entire breast and enormous, leaking nipple is in full view of what seemed like the whole world. 

Is being discreet or modest or respectful of others around us so wrong?

There's been a lot of talk about the boob and victim blaming and empowerment and destroying the joint. I get it. Women's rights weren't won by being polite. But is this about women's rights? This crazy reaction to a television personality's fairly moderate opinion seems a bit OTT. This, to me, seems VERY much like those 'first world problems' we keep joking about. There are worldwide protests and outrage over horrendous acts against women. Genital mutilation. Gang raping. Murder. Murder by gang raping. A woman at a local pool is asked to move because she is breastfeeding her 11 month old [who, by the way, is on solids and does not solely rely on mum's milk for her nourishment anymore... just saying] and the online communities light up. Some bloke, who is actually pro-breastfeeding says maybe mums should be 'classy' about it [whatever that means] and there's a PROTEST of mums breastfeeding outside the studio.

Really?

I am totally in support of breastfeeding in public. I am also in support of women doing so in whatever fashion they feel comfortable with. 

But... if you want to feed your baby in front of my brother or JP or Kochie - don't be offended if they look at their hands.

Baby Bath

This remarkable video is doing the rounds on Facebook. It's a serene, touching and awe-inspiring movie of a newborn baby being bathed.




Isn't it amazing?

Now here is a photo of my son's first bath.

My husband is proudly doing it. That's me, sitting next to the wash area. With hair pasted to my head and furry teeth in a hospital gown and a pad the size of a cot mattress. I'm in a wheelchair because I can't stand up which, surprisingly, has nothing to do with the mattress between my legs. My legs are just unable to hold me up. My body is still in shock from the ridiculously fast labour. So I'm feigning a smile. There's no soothing music or beautiful baby massages or water running gently over my baby's head. There is a very wriggly and soon to be screaming newborn with an outstanding startle reflex that will scare the shit out of his Dad about 2 minutes after this shot was taken.

I wish I'd taken a video of that.

Sleep School aka 'Go the F*ck to Sleep'

My first born son was the centre of our combined family’s universe. The first grandchild on both sides. The first nephew. The golden child. He was a happy, smiley, easy-going baby who was a ‘good sleeper’.

My second born son came when my first born had just turned two. He entered a household that already travelled to the beat of the first born’s drum. He came to a mum who naively believed that he would simply fall into step and give me no trouble – like his brother. Instead, he had some health issues including failure to thrive which resulted in him being a terrible sleeper. No, not terrible. That’s far too polite. I created a fucking monster. And it is, unquestionably, my fault. I did ALL the wrong things. I let him fall asleep on the boob. EVERY TIME. I rocked him to sleep. I made him fall into step with a toddler’s routine instead of listening to the needs of a baby. And I should feel terrible about it except I don’t and I don’t because I paid the price. Well and truly. Oh yes, he made me pay. By 11 months he was on the boob every two hours around the clock. On a good day. On a fussy day that could be every hour. How much sleep do you think I was getting?

I was a basket case. Really. No, really. I ended up at a Child and Youth Health appointment during which it was assessed that I required immediate intervention and so my stay at Torrens House was booked.

My four days at Torrens House saved my [and my kids] life.

I was scared to go there. I don’t believe in ‘controlled crying’. My opinion is that it contradicts a mother’s fundamental need to attend to her child’s needs. It does not make sense to me, on any level, to give your child the perception that they are being abandoned. I have not researched this with any authority and I know of many mothers who have successfully used this technique and their children seem unaffected by it. But I am resolute in my opinion nonetheless.  So, I was scared that they were going to make me use this technique with my baby. It turns out though, that my opinion is supported by the staff at Torrens House. Their technique teaches babies to self settle in a totally supported way, with mum by their side at all times. It’s exactly what I wanted and it worked on the VERY FIRST TIME. I have shared this technique with other mums who found themselves in the same nightmare as I did and it worked for them too.

DISCLAIMER. I am not a trained health professional or child/baby specialist. I am a mum who has found this technique to be very successful. You should not try this without first being sure that your child is not suffering from any other medical conditions which may be causing their unsettled behavior.

Step 1

Routine, routine, routine...

There are suggested routines for babies of all ages which you could research and apply or you may have a good idea of your own. I don’t think it really matters but it needs to be consistent. Most babies respond extremely well to regular and expected behaviours. Basically you need to head into this knowing approximately when each day your baby should be sleeping [and how many times] and when bed-time is at night. This applies to meals [including breast feeding or bottle feeding] too.

Step 2

Location, location, location...

When first teaching your baby to self-settle, it is best for it to be in the same place every time. That may be a cot/bassinet in your room or they may already be in their own nursery. If they are sharing a room with another sibling, I would recommend moving them out for a little while. It could get a bit disruptive in there.

Step 3

That’s a wrap!

A key success factor of this technique is WRAPPING YOUR BABY. I was explained that most babies have a strong startle reflex [you know, when they jerk with their hands out to the side]. This can happen even when they seem to be sleeping soundly and it wakes them up. If they are not able to self settle, this is when they’ll call out for their dummy or YOU. If you have tried wrapping and your baby is getting out of that wrap then you either haven’t wrapped them properly OR the wrap is too small. I have found that larger babies need something like a cotton cot sheet for this to work. I helped a mum with a one year old boy [that was a challenge!] and we used a single bed sheet for him.

So, in line with your routine and AFTER you have fed them you will need to wrap them. I like to strip them down to nappy and singlet, depending on the weather/temperature in the room, and gently sing “time for sleep” while I’m doing this. I learned that this is a good ‘sleep trigger’ but it’s not essential.  Do not let one arm out because ‘they like it’ or keep it loose because ‘they don’t like being constricted’ or this will not work. The wrap needs to be firm. They will be able to move their arms within the wrap but they must be kept close to their body or the startle reflex will wake them up.

Step 4

Hush little baby, don’t you cry

Put your lovely, wrapped baby into their cot/bassinet awake. They may already be crying because this is all new to them and you’re upsetting their apple cart. It’s ok. With bigger babies, you can secure them in place [sounds worse than it is] by tucking another sheet across them and firmly under the mattress. This just helps the whole process. Quietly talk to them while you’re getting them settled. You could sing or just quietly and calmly explain what you’re doing. Eg “Shhh… it’s ok. It’s time for sleep now and Mummy[or Daddy!]is  going to help. I’ll be right here baby.” My very firm suggestion at this stage is DO NOT apologise to them in words, tone or actions. Eg “Mummy’s sorry I have to do this” You are doing your job as their parent to help them sleep. Don’t apologise for that. Once you are comfortable that they are in place, we can move on to the next step.

Step 5

Pat a cake, pat a cake...

The next key success factor in this technique is to PAT THE BED. I was taught that once the baby has been laid down, not to touch them to help them sleep. This then becomes another thing they ‘need’. So, maybe pull up a chair and rhythmically pat the bed near their head. You can do this quite firmly as the intention is for them to feel it, almost like a heart-beat. I usually continue with my ‘time for sleep’ mantra punctuated with a few, calming ‘shhh’s’ and ‘Mummy’s here’.  Your baby will probably be crying throughout this whole process. Try to interpret that cry. Is it distress or is it just a protest? “What are you doing mum???? Why aren’t you holding me? Why aren’t you feeding me?” PRESS ON. You may quietly sing to them or talk to them reassuringly [you’re ok baby, mummy’s here] but try not to make eye contact with them. The intention is that they know you’re there but it’s time for sleep and you mean business.

Step 6

REPEAT

If this is overnight and your baby wakes up and YOU KNOW THERE’S NOTHING WRONG ie, they haven’t wet through the bed, or have a fever, or are too cold, or too hot bla bla, then simply pick them up for quick cuddle, rewrap them and start patting that bed! Your intention should be to help your baby make it through to the morning without a feed. For me, that meant bed time at 7.30pm and NO FEEDING before 5am. If he woke any time after 5am, he got a feed… and we were UP FOR THE DAY. [insert coffee here]

These are some things that I have experienced:

• On the first night of sleep training my son went to sleep using this method within 10 minutes. He SCREAMED but I could tell he was outraged not distressed.
• After never sleeping longer than 2 hours in a row, he slept 5 hours on that first night.
• My boobs were going to EXPLODE by the time I fed him in the morning because it was the first time in 11 months that I hadn’t fed him overnight.
• Once your baby has learned to go to sleep this way, anyone can do it. So this means your partner, your parent, your baby-sitter. It’s extremely liberating!
• Everything changes when this starts to work. You feel better. Your baby behaves better. It’s a happier life to live when everyone can get some real sleep.
• My son responded so well that he would bring me his wrap if he was tired to tell me it was time to go to sleep.

FINALLY

This is not for everyone, I understand that. I just wanted to share it because I know it works and I believe in it. Essentially, we all have different thresholds of what we can and can’t handle. In parenting, in sleeping, in disciplining, in eating, in loving, in working, in life. Some parents do not mind one bit being woken multiple times in the night by their baby. Some parents believe in co-sleeping and giving their baby full access to mum’s breasts all night. Some parents want their baby sleeping through the night from as early as weeks old and will let them cry it out. Whatever works for you, is whatever works for you. BUT, if it’s not working for you then here’s something that worked for us.

If you do try it, I’d love to know how it went for you.

Now… get some sleep :)

It gets better... I promise xx

Death Pain

I was very recently asked about my birth story by a couple very close to me who are expecting a baby boy any day now. I made it as gruesome as possible and they're still looking forward to it - go figure.. Anyway, since I'm apparently a 'mummy blogger' I thought my blog should feature my birth story somewhere. 


Read on, if you dare.

On the morning of my 38 week obstetrician appointment I woke up at 7am with an overwhelming urge to drop the kids off at the pool [my gen Y sister told me about that saying!]. While on the toilet, I noticed some bleeding which I recognized to be my ‘show’. Fortuitously, Mark had taken that very day off for us to finalise the nursery so I bounded out and gave him a blow by blow account of my morning so far… at which point I felt a tightening across my swollen abdomen. Did I say swollen? Forgive me, I meant ENORMOUS. I had gained 20 kilos so far [contrary to more lies about the average woman only gaining 12 kilos during pregnancy]. In the time that it took me to explain, in great detail, what my show looked like, I’d had another tightening. Hmmm… these seem to be regular? Let’s time them. Hon, am I doing this right? Wow. I think this baby may come today. Put on the kettle hon, and I’ll just call the hospital [as my birthing classes had told me].

“Hello, it’s Tania P speaking. I’m actually not booked in for another couple of weeks but I woke up half an hour ago and had a poo and had some blood which I think was my show and now I’m getting this strange tightening which I THINK might be contractions, so my husband’s making me a cup of tea but I just thought I should touch base with you” I remember my voice had a sort of ‘lilt’ to it.

“Yes Tania, that all sounds great. How far apart did you say those tightening were?”

“Well they WERE every four minutes, but now they’re every three – that’s right isn’t it hon?” I’m practically singing by now… because I’m thinking – I can do this EASY.

Silence.

“Tania, how far away from the hospital are you?”

“About 20 minutes in peak hour, which it is right now – why?”

“I’d like you to come in straight away” the midwife’s voice took on an almost unnatural calm and I vaguely remember wondering why she was speaking to me like a mental patient.

“Ok, well I have an appointment there at 2.15 anyway so I’ll finish my cup of tea, get organised and come on in”

“No Tania, just grab your essentials and come now. We’ll be waiting for you.”

So, I call mum and tell her the entire story of the morning and that I’ll be heading into the hospital soon and then head for my shower [maybe I was skipping?] and it is just as I have stripped naked that I am hit with the most excruciating pain I had felt [so far] in my life. I fall to the floor on all fours and scream a guttural cry that I had read only native women had ever used. Mark runs in and is terrified by the sight he is facing which is, a naked, 80 kilo woman on all fours with bed hair and a massive distended abdomen skimming the tiles screaming like an animal.

In this time my mum has called back to tell me that she had a dressing gown for me and would I like to pick it up on the way. She is surprised when I come to the phone, hysterical, but is calm when she tells me “it’s ok Tan, you can do it and I’ll see you at the hospital”. IT’S OK TAN. The fuck it is.

I CRAWL to the bedroom and put on whatever I had discarded onto the floor from the night before. I still have bed hair, sleep in my eyes and furry teeth when I get into the car to face the peak hour traffic on the way to the hospital. And here’s where the fun really starts.

Our chosen hospital was a private hospital which resembles a 5 star hotel. It has a cafe at the entrance which at 8.40 in the morning was full of gorgeous and fresh interns, doctors and nurses. Mark pulls up OUT THE FRONT of that café, puts on the hazards and helps me out of the car. I am unable to walk properly due to the almost heart stopping contractions which are coming every one and half a minutes. So my gait is not dissimilar to an ape. Nor is my face. Gorgeous doctors are looking. In my memory they may have even been pointing and gasping as the receptionist RUNS out of the hospital with a wheelchair and yells, dramatically ‘we’ve got a pusher!’

I’m feeling better from the moment I’m through those doors and comforted further as two midwives meet me in the lobby [yes, it’s a LOBBY] and one wheels me, while the other wheels a trolley chock full of every medical supply you would need. I find it weird that the birthing suite is clearly ‘BYO’ [I found out later it was in case they needed to deliver my baby in that very same lobby, outside the café with the gorgeous people] but I don’t ask. I can’t ask. I can’t speak. I just groan. A lot.

We finally get into the suite and they get me out of the wheelchair and on to the bed. Bottoms off and baby monitor strapped onto my belly at which point, I remember my birthing class advice and say “I’ll have my epidural now”.  Midwife #1 steals a glance across my belly at Midwife #2 and then says ever so gently “Oh darling, your baby’s coming now”. WHAT THE FUCK???

At this stage I start to panic. BIG TIME. The pain is excruciating. It feels like my body is being torn apart from the inside out. They offer me gas. Gas. Whatever. I have the mouth piece and I make that bastard sing… for what it’s worth which is not much. The pain is so bad, so unnaturally excruciating that I’m sure there’s something wrong. I’m convinced in fact. No-one, NO-ONE, ever told me it would hurt THAT much and that quickly. Where was my 8 hour labour that came in stages?  And why did no-one tell me that it is even harder to not push than push? 

No-one broke it down and said it feels like you’re DYING. And you know, to this day, women keep telling that lie! When I break out my birth story, in all its glorious detail, in a group of women to an expectant mother, they gather together and try to shut me down. Shushing me like a gaggle of geese. “Don’t scare her!” “Don’t tell her that, it’s not THAT bad” “Why would you SAY that??” Really girls? Because it’s the TRUTH!!! It’s terrifyingly painful. It feels like you can’t go on. It feels like you couldn’t possibly survive such a traumatic experience. You are weak with exertion and screaming with fear and pain. That is what having a baby is like for a lot of women. Did I forget the moment I held my gorgeous new son in my arms? Fuck no. I still had to deliver the placenta and THEN I had to be stitched up because I needed to be cut and I needed to be cut because that HOLE IS NOT BIG ENOUGH!!!!

So, from go to whoah my labour took about 2 hours. I woke at 7.00am facing a normal day and Nathan was born at 9.40am. No cups of tea, no relaxing in the bath, no back rubbing, no breathing, no epidural. Stefan came much the same way.

Dear first-time, expectant mum, I am not really trying to scare you. Having my sons was the greatest thing I have ever done in my life. The entire, uncomfortable journey of pregnancy and childbirth IS miraculous and exhilarating and awe inspiring. It is, unquestionably, worth every bit of it. But it hurts and it’s scary and I’m fortunate that my story doesn’t include the need for other scary things like cesareans and needles the length of your forearm in your spine and breach babies and prem births etc, etc. I just think if you HEAR real life stories from real women who are honest and brutal in their account, and you head into your 38^th week expecting the worst… then anything better than that may just make it not terrifying. Maybe bearable. Perhaps even wonderful.

So to break it down, my top ten bits of real advice:

1. Ask for an epidural at 38 weeks
2. Pack a camera [disposable if need be] in your hospital bag
3. Have something gorgeous to wear on hand wherever you are so you’re not mistaken for a gorilla on arrival
4. Don’t bother with that cup of tea if you’re having cramps every 4 minutes
5. Prepare your partner to see you begging, screaming, crying and in excruciating pain. I have found so many partners did not expect to be affected by seeing a person they love so much in so much pain, without being able to help
6. If you’re pushing, getting the head out is the worst. Go hard and listen to your midwives. It really does sting but the shoulders are easier and then you’re done. Except for the placenta. But that’s a walk in the park comparatively.
7. If you find yourself without an epidural [makes my eyes water just thinking about it], then take the gas. It barely took the edge off for me, but it did help me to ‘not push’ which the midwives may ask of you
8. Don’t bother to ask your obstetrician to ‘sew the whole thing up’ while they’re down there ‘cause you won’t need it anymore… take it from me, they won’t do it
9. Pack something alcoholic in your hospital bag. At least one of you will want a drink after that baby comes out
10. Be prepared to fall in love… but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t happen the moment they put your just-born, screaming, covered in blood and goo baby on your chest, still attached to the umbilical cord. It may take a minute for you to catch your breath x