The Doc is in

Emily's bedroom door must be closed at all times. If it is open, then she won't be able to burst into the room while dramatically declaring "Doc is IN!"

In our house, we love Doc McStuffins. When it first appeared on TV months ago when we were still in England, I never imagined it would have such a huge impact on her life. A friend had pointed out it was a good show to expose her to - it empowers girls and is racially unbiased. I hadn't even realized these things when I first watched it with Emily but after that comment, I felt a little bit less bad about letting her watch it so often.

There's no two ways about it: Emily adores that show. The Doc is her absolute hero and she has already informed us that she will be a doctor when she grows up (just maybe not in so many words). Her current favourite toy is this medical carrycase which she spends literally hours playing with every day. Of course that means that David, Adam and I all must endure several check ups (originally referred to as "ketchups") every hour, but how else would we be so sure we're all healthy and doing well?

[£8.99 from Amazon]

She could wear her stethoscope all day long. Our heartbeat moves around. It's sometimes in our chest, other times it'll have moved to our stomach, our legs, even our cheeks. Wherever she finds it, we are always given a reassuring "Sounds good!" at the end of it.

We are instructed to take deep breaths ("Deep breaths for me!") while we have our blood pressure tested. We are jabbed in our stomach again and again with the syringe (I haven't yet had the heart to explain exactly what that one instrument is). Our eyes and ears (and belly buttons) are examined with her otoscope regularly. She insists the eye drop bottle is an ice lolly, but amazingly, it also converts into a medicine bottle when necessary (eg, "Mummy, not well?" "No, Emily, I think I'm fine." "No Mummy, you're not well." "Oh ok, COUGH COUGH" "Here Mummy - medicine for you.")

And in the car, we all have to sing the Doc McStuffins theme song, ad infinitum. It's quite adorable really - she knows 99% of the words and is pitch perfect, but a few words elude her so she replaces them with random sounds that she thinks work.

Ah, toddlers. Sudden meltdowns apart, I am quite enjoying these supposed Terrible Twos. She certainly is entertaining!

Home

Since Adam was born, the move has hit me hard. Suddenly, I have found myself missing England more than ever. It has a lot to do with the convenience of things in the UK, the fact that I did the newborn thing there already, with health visitors available to call any time, with follow up visits from midwives and a good all-round aftercare system. 

Here, after two visits from my midwife, it feels a little bit like I've been left at the edge of a cliff to sort myself out. If I were a first time mother, I'd feel a lot more alone. There is a level of assumption here that family will step in and sort you out. And family have done and they continue to do, but I don't always want to turn to family for help. Sometimes I'd like the input of a professional, someone who deals with these things day in, day out. Someone who I don't feel judged by, someone who means nothing to me. Somehow, it makes a difference. I wish I still had access to that.

I also find myself wishing I could casually stroll into the city centre for a spot of window shopping. I miss TK Maxx, I miss the massive local Boots.

I miss pavements that don't have telephone poles and trees growing out of the middle of them. I miss ramps. I miss a society that acknowledges children and buggies. I miss not having to get into the car to go just about anywhere. I miss the local parks and the tearooms and the friendly helpful faces. I miss having the High Street on my doorstep. 

But mostly I miss my friends and my sister. I miss being able to give Emily time with her friends and cousins. I miss the relaxed chats I could have with my friends without the stress of a crappy wifi connection. I miss these friends who have been around since Emily's Day One and know me as a mother inside out. I'll never have that again.

I know we have it good. I stop and remind myself that bath and bedtime with two little ones to deal with on my own would be a lot more stressful than it currently is. I know that there would have been a lot of time where those same friends I miss so much had lives of their own to live and I'd have felt so alone anyway. I am in no way dismissing the importance of having my family around me. 

It's just that lately, I've found myself feeling that sense of limbo again. That feeling of not quite knowing where I fit in... not quite knowing where Home is.

[Emily and friends, January 2013]

Related Links
Josepha talks about something similar in Adjusting,
and What Happens When You Live Abroad

Living a New Reality

[he is quite perfect]

[it's amazing how long a handful of birthday cards can be used for entertainment]

These two are inspirational. They adore each other. They calm each other. They're already inseparable 12 days in.

Emily
She is still very insecure about us disappearing again, still cries out at night for seemingly no reason. She is struggling slightly with the new division of attention but has also recently become very affectionate with us. We are getting some amazingly tight hugs. She loves Adam more than she can begin to comprehend, he is her first port of call every morning, and she finds it difficult to not smother him in kisses every waking moment. 

Adam
He is an amazing baby. We thought Emily was a good baby but he's gone and properly shown her up! He sleeps well, he's happy and is becoming very attentive and alert. He adores Emily and is calmed by the sound of her voice. He is a very cuddly baby, loves being swaddled (as long as he is given access to his hands), he appears to possibly be a thumb-sucker, and already seems very ticklish.

Us
David and I expected that the arrival of a newborn would take our relationship a few steps back but it hasn't. Instead, it's reaffirmed everything and made us closer. There's more affection, more "wow we've done this again," and overall, we're doing good. Having more than 3 hours of sleep a night also helps.

Personally, baby blues haven't hit as badly this time round. I suspect the sunshine has had a lot to do with that. Recovery was longer, all of 10 days of feeling like a wreck as opposed to about 5 after Emily. But we're finally past that. 

Now, if only I can make myself realize that we're barely two weeks in, and I cannot expect to have everything under control quite yet, everything would be perfect. But as usual I'm busy being hard on myself and forgetting how new this family dynamic is, expecting to have perfected every aspect of it already. One of these days I'll cut myself some slack. Maybe.

Missing Her

"I love my sister very much," she is eager to say. I correct her and say that Adam is her brother. Sometimes she'll agree, other times I am told "Actually, my sister" - the little knowitall.

She's been incredible. She has adored Adam from the first moment she laid eyes on him when he was one day old. She showers him with hugs and kisses and, now that she's no longer terrified of the sound it, tells him it's all going to be ok when he cries.

For a few days, it was myself and David she seemed to feel betrayed by. She didn't appreciate our disappearing act one bit, although she accepted it because she was prepared. But even now, she still talks about how I went away to get Adam out of my tummy. The shouting and hitting which greeted us upon our return from hospital has calmed down now, but her insecurities still resurface every now and then. She is a sensitive soul.

And I miss her. I miss being able to do things with her at any time, I miss being able to drop everything and read to her or be silly with her. I know I can still do all this - and I do, but it's not always at a time when she is open to it, so I often miss the window of opportunity. I miss being able to be the one to take her to the park at the drop of a hat. I hate having to send her off with others to have her fun because I haven't had the chance to get dressed yet and the very thought of getting everyone and everything together makes me cry.

It's all about balance, I know. She won't remember a time when it was just about her, she's already adapting perfectly to having a little brother around who also has needs, and she supports that. But I remember that time, and I am the one struggling with it.

Adam's Birth Story, Part II

Disclaimer: I won't try to deny it. This is a birth story, there will be talk of things some people find disgusting, even unmentionable. You are free to read on, or you are free to close the window now. It's your choice and I take no responsibility for it!

[Read Part I]

So we slept. And just before 3am, I woke up to use the loo, just like I always did. I stumbled into the ensuite in darkness (the only way I could afterwards ensure I'd get back to sleep), and sat on the loo. Something felt weird. Something wasn't right. This was way too much wee. And it didn't seem to be coming out of the right place either. I sat there wondering what to do - darkness and semi-conscious state not helping. I'd worn a maternity pad the night before because of the bleeding, which came in useful. I decided there's no way this could be my waters, so I got back up and tried to get back to bed.

I barely made it to the bathroom door and my pj trousers were drenched. I think I may have stood there, light now on, wondering what to do for a few moments. I stared at myself in the mirror, confused. I'd mentioned it several times before to friends - I didn't think there was any chance of my waters breaking early this time. Despite the "Hollywood Gush" we so often see in movies, it's actually a very small percentage of pregnancies where labour starts off with waters breaking. It had already happened to me with Emily. There was no way it would happen again.

Wrong.

This time, at least, David wasn't two hours away and unreachable.

I shouted his name and he was awake. "I think my waters have broken." (Stupid statement of the year right there.) "I don't know what to do, should I call the midwife?"

No, I called my mother. I couldn't bring myself to wake a relative stranger up at 3am. My mother encouraged me to call her, and the midwife, Anna, knew it was me right away. She asked me to head to hospital just to monitor baby and ensure all was well, as I wasn't yet contracting although I could feel that the cramps had gotten slightly worse. The plan of action was to meet her there after my mother arrived to take care of Emily

Emily. Oh God. I couldn't leave her, I couldn't do this. Adrenaline pumping through my body, I began shaking uncontrollably (I remembered this well from last time) and couldn't think straight. I decided it was the right time to bring some more of Emily's books out of the storage bags they'd been in for weeks. Yes, that irrational.

I then dressed up and ate an apple. I went into Emily's room to say bye and whisper an explanation to her sleeping self, trying not to cry. And I waited for my mother to get here.

The first contraction hit around 4am as I got into the car, but there were no others after it, just cramps. We got to the hospital and all I could think of was the amazing smell of baking bread coming from the bakers' in the pjazza.

At around 5am, Anna checked me and I was 2cm dilated. Good start, considering it was on the back of just one proper contraction. We considered going back home to wait until the contractions really kicked in, but with rush hour looming and my instincts telling me I should stay put (they haven't failed me once recently), we decided to stay.

I wanted an active birth this time so I stood back up and that was when the contractions began in earnest. We never got round to timing them this time, not properly anyway. There was a point where we acknowledged that, hmm they were coming quicker now, but I was coping well, many times carrying on the conversation through contractions, and tweeting in between. If I laid down or sat down, the contractions stopped. Once I stood back up, they came back with a vengeance. Not your typical labour, but it was certainly happening.

By 6am I was at about 5.5cm and still coping very well. My TENS machine wasn't even out of it's bag yet. I wasn't quite talking through contractions any longer though. I randomly mentioned to David that I had a feeling we would be done by 9am.

By 8am I was at 8cm, but getting very tired and annoyed at myself for going to bed so late. The Lucozade was what kept me going, and I finally asked for the TENS. I know I was also aware that Emily would now be awake and I suspect this put me on edge slightly.

And then transition. At this point, things changed. I started saying (daft) things I have no recollection of, and I began to lose confidence. Anna had explained that although he was engaged, Adam wasn't low enough. This is possibly what made Emily's second stage last so long too. So she had to help him out a little bit with every contraction. I was in no mood to cooperate, especially because this hurt more than the contractions themselves.

I started feeling the need to push, but I was stuck at 9.5cm, so more help. For most of third stage, I was squatting, leaning against David. As had happened with Emily, my contractions weren't strong enough so I was given a Syntometrine injection to help things along (as well as to ensure my placenta delivered this time), and another one soon after as the first wasn't doing enough. I asked David to get the TENS off me, damn wire kept getting tangled in my arm.

Soon I was too tired to stay on my feet any longer. All I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. I know the thought crossed my mind to ask everyone to leave at one point. I just wanted to be done with it, I was bored of being in pain, fed up, and just so very tired.

Suddenly I noticed everyone getting excited. He was coming. What? We hadn't been at this for hours yet! Somewhere deep inside, something woke up and helped me through that last bit. Within a few pushes, his head was out, then his body, then suddenly - what seemed to be out of nowhere - I was holding my beautiful, vernixy, wailing baby. And I fell in love all over again. Madly.

I asked David what time it was. He checked his watch. "What time did you say he'd be here by?" "Nine," I replied. "It's 8:58!" I had been pushing for all of about 25 minutes.

My placenta delivered within minutes - a moment full of relief after over two hours of waiting last time! We had asked Anna earlier for the cord to be left to pulsate before it was cut, and when it did stop, David again wasn't keen to cut it, so I did instead (and quite pleased about it too!)

Adam was still screaming away, we managed some skin to skin but he wasn't pinking up fast enough so he was transferred to an incubator for a while until he warmed up enough. In the meantime I was given the happy news that I needed no stitches and tried to relax, but the contractions kept going and were getting worse again. About an hour later, several very large blood clots were delivered (!) and then it all thankfully calmed down.

We had a room ready for me and Adam next door, and were eager to be transferred there, but I needed a shower first. I looked like I was part of a murder investigation. I felt fine so Anna helped me up and into the shower and suddenly, everything almost went black. So quickly back to bed it was and I had a quick flannel wash and then really quickly moved next door (near black out again). Some lunch solved the problem but I was unable to get back out of bed on my own until very late that evening, simply due to being too achey!

I am told that one of the things I kept going on about during transition was the lack of perfection. I wasn't doing it well, it wasn't as perfect as it should have been, I should be doing this, I should be doing that. I don't even recall saying these things so I can't possibly begin to understand what I was on about, but looking back, if there was anything this birth was, it was perfect. I am so pleased to have fought for this and to have been given the chance to do it all over again. And more than anything, I am grateful to the people who supported me in getting a natural birth, safely, and for delivering my beautiful son to my arms.

Adam John

Born 21st March 2013 at 8:58am

Weighing 3.4kg / 7lbs 5oz

With special thanks to the team at St James Hospital, Zabbar,

my parents and in-laws for taking care of Emily while we were "checking Mummy's tummy",

and of course, my super, amazing husband for being a rock and never leaving my side.