Half my life

This year, I have been a parent for exactly half of my life.

Wow, what a journey. I am certain it has been the making of me, and I can't imagine my life without them in it, but I'm beginning to understand that daily contact is not necessary!

Our eldest moved away from home last December, 3000km away. Where all the cool people live. (waves at Melbourne). He is back at the moment for my birthday, and it is actually strange having him under the roof again (yes, he still has the same squeeze). No flies on him though - at what age do they stop hoping to cadge free shoes from parents?

When he left home I was a bit of a sook for a while. I figured out that it was because I didn't know when I would see him again. In the past I had had a date on the calendar for when he would walk in the door again. I was quite bereft without him, and was struck by how much I missed his presence, his bulk, his hugs and his company. I realised how unnatural it was for me to not be able to picture where he was. I had given birth to someone who was now a large man, roaming the Earth in a different city, and being all . . . functional and adult and grown up. Someone would see my son walking down the street, and interact with him, appraise him, like him or not, and it was out of my ken. I was not a face in that particular crowd. I was not breathing that same air with him any more. He was not returning to me. I felt the apron strings come undone. I had underestimated the lump it would make in my throat.

Once I figured out that it was a lack of a calendar entry that was troubling me I had to mentally commit to a visit to Melbourne mid-year. The separation then became easier to bear, and I settled down, and could think about him without become teary. I enjoyed my mental image of a confident capable adult son out in the world.

When I arrived home one day in late-March after a super day at work, with TWO births I was as high as a kite and bursting to share the fantastic day I had had. It was also our daughter's birthday, so all in all a great day, with a restaurant meal to look forward to. My key was in the door when I heard an adult male voice talking in the kitchen - he had been brought home on FF points by the squeeze as a surprise for his sister's birthday! He had been in town for 2 days already, lying low for a surprise! He scooped me up in a huge hug, and was really very tolerant of me patting him reassuringly all evening. I was so surprised, and so delighted. It was brilliant.

Our youngest is still home, and likely to stay here for some time, although she is keen to move out, in principle. She is not working at the moment, had to resign her job due to terrible eczema/dermatitis on her hands. Her health has been quite challenging in the last 9 months, with one thing and another, and the appointments are very frequent. We thought we were off all that frequent flyer stuff, but she has had 2 operations and not too many answers, although it is reassuring to have ruled some stuff out. She is doing one afternoon of maths refresher stuff at her level, and other than that sits on the computer/ watches DVDs, plays her music (Glee anything) and obsesses about the cat. She finds it really hard me being out all day with this new job, coming and going as much as I do. She has few friends and doesn't go out much, and is not nearly as independent as most people her age, although that is improving. She really needs to meet a sweet boy, but doesn't go anywhere to meet any :( She has however taken up the challenge of cooking dinner one night per week, which is a help. Now - how to trick her into taking up the rest of the housework! Well, thats not strictly fair, she does do a bit of food shopping as well during the week. However she has NO idea how to plan major stuff, and we are frustrated by her passivity in this matter. If she moved out next week it would be a fast-track to boredom, anxiety and malnutrition. . ..with added cats. We are starting to look into future options.

DD was away for a fortnight in April and we experienced the wonder of the empty nest.

And we want MORE!

In safe, strong hands

Today my husband's hands have opened presents.

They have eaten chocolate. And spooned porridge.

Fetched hot chocolate at swimming. Pressed timekeeper buttons at the competition.

Massaged the back of a swimmer.

Recorded a personal best time for our daughter.

Driven us safely home.

Eaten a picnic by the beach, and drank wine.

Done the fruit and veg shopping at the market.

Unloaded the dishwasher. Hugged our son.

Packed a suitcase to take him away for a brief business trip.

Opened the door for the cat (umpteen times).

Later, they might get lucky ;)

But wherever those hands travel, I feel safe when I see them. They are strong. They are dependable. I love to hold them, and be held by them.

They held our babies many years ago, and continue to do so. Safely.

We are very lucky to have them.

Happy Father's Day my love.

And the winner is Syd-dnee! (now with added dugong)

Uh-oh. How did it get to be August already?

Somehow I have not posted since June. Oopsie. Its not that nothing has been happening. Shall I recap? June 23 - we all headed to Sydney. We bagged a superb apartment that we all wanted to move in to permanently, right near the town hall. It was drizzly but we didn't care.

We wandered out to Darling Harbour in the dusky gloom along a street that somehow contained all the hiking shops, every chain, every supply you could want, holding our umbrellas against every pissing awning - and there were plenty of 'em!

We walked across the Pyrmont bridge and into the Aquarium which we essentially had to ourselves. It was wonderful. Much bigger than when I had last been there in 1988. The displays were enchanting, and really easy to photograph too if you had a steady hand.

There was a special dugong exhibit, with a pair of dugongs lolling about quite mournfully at one end of the pen and slowly crossing the tunnel above our heads and returning to the wooden pier where they would try to hide in a corner. There was nowhere to hide. Yet it was still entrancing to watch these creatures, even though I had a clear impression that I was intruding on their privacy. Excuse me, maam.

Another tunnel contained a shark pool where the toothy crowd were a bit more lively and numerous. Nothing scary, just ...Establishing Respect.

The upstairs exhibits were fantastic, but the big tanks really were stunning! When I say big I mean BIG! HUGE! probably about 5m deep and at least 15m in diameter, all landscaped and populated with reef fish, or deep sea fish, or sharks or rays, Nemos and Dories, just fantastic and surprisingly entertaining. Great big fish looking mournful. It was wonderful, I'm so glad we went.

We then walked past the damp World Cup Soccer Village all the way to the other end of Darling Harbour and into China Town where we had dinner in a very chaotic restaurant. I have no idea what we had but it was delicious, and there seemed to be a LOT of Taiwanese people in there, enjoying a ridiculous gameshow on a big screen. Fascinating place. Couldn't for the life of me tell you what it was called, sorry, but it was popular.

Slept like logs in our sumptuous rooms. The apartment had 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, a laundry, a full kitchen and a huge living and dining room, big TV, all brand new and modern, with 2 balconies overlooking the rooves of churches and in eyeline with skyscrapers. We were on the 27th floor! It was brilliant.

The next morning my cousin arrived. Katharine is my youngest cousin (of 23 first cousins), I was 17 when she was born. She is living in Sydney now after being brought up between England and Perth. She is just lovely, and I wish I could see more of her. We stayed with her Mum in 2007 in London. K is very arty and has recently directed her first short film. She works heaps in the arts scene and we were delighted to catch up with her and be shown around the Sydney Opera House backstage - we even had coffee in the Green Room, and saw the Sydney Biennale on Cockatoo Island. The art was thought provoking and really evocative, and often really out of left field. There was a plywood model of the Hubble Space telescope, that seems like a steampunk had had a hand in it! I also enjoyed the piece with a car flying overhead in a shower of sparks. Cockatoo Island is the site of old naval shipyards and the buildings and spaces made me feel the presence of my Dad, who was a mechanic. The smells of oil on a dirt floor, and the industrial spaces and the rust. Being with his sister's only child. I'm sure he was with us as we wandered about that fascinating site, or maybe, just remembering him makes it seem that way. It was a gorgeous day and the free ferry ride was an added treat. Stephanie saw where Dance Academy was filmed, we went under the bridge, it was all good.

I've never spent long in the Circular Quay area before so it was such a treat to really see it, and wow what a place. It deserves the reputation as one of those locations where if you sit there long enough, the whole world will walk by. It is not only physically beautiful, in the sense of water and coves and clean air, and buzzing atmosphere but the man-made environment (i.e. the Bridge and the Opera House) is also gob-smacking. I hadn't expected to enjoy it so much but it truly was superb.

K also works at the Museum of Modern Art, right on the harbour, so we had spent the day in her environment. It was so enjoyable. She joined us for dinner back at our place, where we waited for the slowest Indian food delivery I have ever experienced. It was a bit average, but we talked and talked, and it was nice to just hang out with a family member I hardly ever get to see.

The next day - Taronga Park Zoo! Stay tuned!

A quiet life

Well, we've had 'the talk'.

I made it quite clear that it was unacceptable to know so much about their intimate life. And for our visitors to hear so much about it even at the other end of the house.

Would she make that much and that kind of noise at her mother's house? I was boldly told 'Yes, I do actually'. So I encouraged her to do it there instead, because I never, ever wanted to hear these sounds from her again. All luck to her for her talents, good for her, I had no objection to them engaging in sex, per se, at all. I just didn't need to hear it. Nor did his sister on the other side of the wall. Nor did his dad, his aunty, or I need to hear it. I was NOT kidding. I was approaching her directly about it because seven discussions with our son had been ineffectual.

There was no apology, from either of them.

They couldn't skedaddle back to his room quick enough and stayed in his room all evening, only emerging after my husband had gone to bed to have a 30 minute shower and talk loudly in the echo-y bathroom right next door to where hubby was sleeping. (insert grinding of teeth here)

They stayed in his room all day until 5pm, undoubtedly trying out silencing methods which must have worked because I didn't hear a peep out of them apart from talking and laughing occasionally. She left late in the day.

He wandered into my bedroom and asked if I was happier with the course of the day. I reiterated the level of distress that had built up over the last four months, and how I was quite clear about this being non-negotiable, about how it had been widely discussed with all and sundry in the suburbs and how I was by no means an island in feeling so alienated by their behaviour.

I described the advice about suitcases, buckets of water, ultimatums and unpleasantness on upcoming trips and the remainder of the year, and the undesirability of such courses of actions when compared to the relatively small price of cohabiting as adults while remembering our manners. I told him how much their voices carried. Especially in bathrooms late at night. How inconsiderate they had been. I described how my holiday period had begun with the frustration of being constantly hemmed in the house with a caterwauling young woman invading my personal and mental space being not at all what I had planned and now my final day of potential alone-ness was gone and I was pretty annoyed.

I wanted him to truly understand not only which side of his bread was buttered but how thick that butter was for a relatively small price of civility. The time was coming when he would be buttering it for himself, and it was important that he not take our butter for granted, and that would require some consideration for this final period of time we would be living together.

I think we have reached a new level of understanding. He said he was glad we had had it out. We had a few chuckles. We remain friends, but with a new, non-negotiable boundary.

Phew.

My life in dot points

Its all I can manage... But here are some questions Life has thrown at me lately.

• Is it wrong to expect 24 year olds to silence their girlfriends during sex? Its been going on for 4 months now. When I was a girl I would have been mortified to think anyone would hear my activities....let alone be able to determine exactly how many orgasms constitutes a multiple event. Don't want to repress anyone's sensual life. Teensy bit of pride in son's ... um ... talents. Don't want to engender shame. It wouldn't be my shame anyhow. Just DON'T. Want. To. Hear. It. Any. More. Someone I was lamenting the situation to told me, "Laura, some women will come in a stiff breeze". Yes. So I hear. (sigh). Terse SMS war already on the issue. Repeated approaches to son to keep it down. Will I still be seeing this young woman at family meals with my grandchildren in 40 years time? Son's final university exam tomorrow. Am I a Bad, Disloyal, Enabling Mother? Or am I just being 'dissed'? Discuss.

• Just how much stuff does one really need? Is it in inverse proportion to the amount of floorspace available for the purposes of walking around? (phew, moved out 4 crates of Stuff today, it helps already).

• How long does one wait for midwifery models of care to shift? How does one bite one's tongue at the backroom discussions undermining women's desire for non-interventionist birth? Will I be happier in the long run just going independent and taking the blood pressure pills, being my own boss, and paying through the nose for PI insurance. Should I just move to New Zealand? How long is a piece of string? You get the idea. I'm doing a major review next week to take a snapshot of my career/practice so far. Why does one always feel ready to be shot down in flames. Am I trying to run before I can walk?

• How will we face another major surgery for our daughter? This will be a biggie with the potential to really improve her life, but it won't be easy. It has come as a surprise, sort of. She's had similar surgery twice before, but doesn't remember it. I do. Gulp.

• How good is it to have friends who love and support you? And listen to your whining. And write loving things about you. And share bookclub with you. And paint with you. And go to Vegas with you. I truly am blessed.

• On a lighter note.....How good is this? Now these girls really know how to shop. And I thought I had good op-shops near me.

• Will we all be fit and well enough for our trip? All four of us are limping or crippled in some aspect. This is lame (literally). We are all ready to feel well again. I am certainly sick of keeping the doctors in business, nice people though they are. I will keep taking (all) the tablets. Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean.

• How will I pack? For 4 people, heading in 3 different directions at the end, for Sydney, Melbourne and Central Australia.

Bearing in mind that one must be alive to complain, and that we live in a well resourced country, with no war, and plentifully stocked supermarkets, and that our children have survived childhood, and that we have careers and sufficient income to service our whining whitebread world, and that I may just delete this whole post because I am so sick of the sound of my whining......answers on a postcard please.

On the road again

Thanks for all your kind wishes on our anniversary. We had a lovely party, speeches were made and people caught up with. We really are most fortunate.

I have been away for a four-day weekend to rural Victoria. For those needing to repeat this exercise I have included instructions below.

Step one: get on a plane at 1am in the morning and fly throughout the night, arriving at your destination at 6.10am local time in Melbourne.

Step two: Pick up a car and drive by feel (consulting only a printout of the Google directions) to the northern border twin-towns of Echuca-Moama, on the Murray River. Stop a couple of times for pit stops, and once for a sleep, remember you've flown through the night. Arrive at 2.15pm at the caravan park on the farthest edge of town. Feel a bit proud of yourself. Look at watch and realise you'd better skedaddle to the Murray River cos you have a date with a paddle steamer!

Step three: Drive 8 minutes into town and grab a parking spot in front of the paddleboat ticket office. Screech to a halt at 5 minutes before the departure time for the boat trip arranged by the conference organisers. Run in and make enquiries, curse at the news that they will be underway in 5 minutes and that the boat leaves from the farthest dock, then RUN as only a fat midwife with sore knees can. Jiggling boobs are optional. Panic slightly as you notice steam rising from the stack of your boat. Imagine all those midwives making merry without you. Make your way down the bank to the gangplank and puff out that you can't remember if you have prepaid the ticket or not. You'll be told, "no worries, there's no hurry on the Murray". Feel your mind clunk into a different gear. Ahh, thats better....

Step four. Find a comfy spot without the sun in your eyes. This may be harder than you think. Scour the boat for signs of other midwives, prepare to be friendly with them. Lay your preparations aside as you realise that there are 10 other people on the boat and not one of them is a midwife. Sigh. Oh well, one may as well look interested in the sights and sounds of a genuine paddle steamer.

If you are a Steam Punk you might be interested in seeing this (dammit, its sideways, sorry). It was similar to the workings of the Riverboat Natchez which I went on in 1991 on the Mississippi River, but that was a much bigger vessel. Still a SteamPunk's gotta dream, eh?

Step five: While away an hour or so steaming slowly up and down the river, noticing the height of the riverbanks and the wharf, and the high flood marks. There are birds, and fish, and other paddlesteamers to admire, and people to wave to on houseboats. Have a coffee on board and try not to fall asleep as the paddlewheel turns with a rythmical shushing sound. Return to port.

Step six: Drive around the town a bit more, find an Aldi (my first time in an Aldi store, it seemed a bit random to me, avoid gummi bears as I am trying to be good) and get some supplies for breakfasts. Realise you are running a bit late for the welcome function and drive back to the caravan park, have a lick and a promise wash, change clothes and drive across the border to another. whole. state (like you do it every day, except if you lived there you would, but it was kinda fun as a novelty.) Try not to woo-hoo as you do it, its lowers the cool quotient. Mental thrill notes are OK.

Step seven: Arrive pretty early for the function. Realise it has been at least 12 hours since you actually spoke to anyone apart from customer service folks. Gradually wander around looking for a familar face to break ones silence. Find a friendly looking face on a stranger, respond. It pays off. Phew.

Eat delicious food while juggling drinks. Talk some more. Realise you have hit the wall with fatigue and must drive responsibly to another state to find your bed. Do this. Curse while reading caravan park literature that promises electric blanket on bed, while finding no such appliance in residence. Lie in bed only in the small spot you have warmed. Sleep well, but feel too cold to accept turning over and warming another spot. Wake up with a sore hip. Freeze ass off while getting washed and dressed. Attend conference with excellent food and company and speakers.

Return to cabin to get changed for dinner and hunt up the park manager for an electric blanket. Make the bed again. Resist urge to leave the electric blanket on while away. Return to venue in upper left of map and have a great dinner, with excellent singers and entertainment, dancing and chatting. Return to cabin in farthest right corner of map and sleep much better in a cosy bed.

Step eight: Repeat much of previous day, and give thanks for the profession of midwifery. Talk with a woman who has a disabled child who is tube dependent if possible, as this will enrich your experience, and hopefully hers as well. Hear some more great speakers. Order books from a learned person far, far away. Say goodbye to colleagues, and have dinner with a few more. Return to cosy bed.

Step nine: Next morning, to round out your experience, you will drive to Melbourne the long way, phoning complete strangers and introducing yourself as a distant relative. Be welcomed to their homes, drink their tea and find your photo in their genealogy albums!!!! Take photos with them, and marvel at family ties. Learn new things, share info and scandals in turn. Drive a really long way to breathe the air of your grandfather's hometown and birthplace. Drive farm roads in the middle of nowhere to see your family's name on a street sign. Get stared down by curious sheep. Buy a souvenir postcard for your Mum. Buy yourself a piece of fabric from a craftshop in the town to include in a special quilt (if you plan to make one that year). Get a teensy bit lost, but marvel that south is south and all roads eventually lead to Melbourne.

Step ten: Drive straight to the airport carpark at exactly the right time to check in easily for your flight home. Sigh with contentment that you have had such a great day with 'relative strangers' and be happy that you made the effort to meet them. Fly home in a cramped plane. Be greeted by loving family and head home to your own bed.

There ya go - do you reckon you could manage it? Add in a dose of hubby with a very bad back in your absence, which persists. Add a dash of large son hopping in with a badly sprained ankle 24 hours after return that has required a trip to hospital, doctors, x-ray, CT scan, bed nursing, chairs in showers, and much medication and driving around, 4 shifts, 2 meetings, housework and washing and driving of hubby and son to all points. Garnish with despair and frustration at the state of midwifery led care in this state, and resolve to keep plugging away at changing the state of affairs. Finalise preparations for a major practise review I am undergoing that will help me in my ambitions to practise more autonomously as a midwife. Make phonecalls to all and sundry, and not enough people, all at the same time. Planning, planning, planning. Cook, cook, cook, read, read, read. Just to stop oneself going completely insane, pick up a quilt that you made 10 years ago and continue handquilting it. It will get finished one day. You're not dead yet.

Tomorrow I will go back to the radiology place for the fourth day this week!

I'm pooped! I'll be grateful to go back to nightshift this weekend!

Silver

Exactly twenty five years ago I was having this photo taken.

Then I got into a car and went and did this.

Then this photo was taken.

Then this one.

Then this one. Regrets? Not many, in fact most of it I would do again. Some of it I would do better, sooner, and more frequently. It turned out I made a good choice. And so did he.

I am especially aware that some others are not so lucky. My sister should be sharing this 25th anniversary year with her beloved late husband, but as she reminded me today, he would certainly want us to celebrate, even though he can't be with us.

We plan a small dinner with family and friends on Saturday night. There will be an intimate dinner a deux at a favourite French restaurant tonight. There were gifts in bed this morning. I gave him a second wedding ring in silver and a book of quotes about love and marriage. I received a silver bracelet with a heart locket, and some silver set amethyst and pearl drop earrings in a reproduction style. We have our trip planned for June. By the end of this year I will be working on a quilt for our bed (if I put it in writing you'll all have to hold me to it, OK). I have selected the pattern based on the storm at sea block, but it will be titled something related to weathering the storms and seeing the silver lining.

We are very fortunate, and feel just a bit proud of ourselves too.

So, I suspect, this year, silver will be my new style. However....this will NOT be extended to hair colouring. Just to be clear on that....OK?

This and that, the update.

Dear blogfriends, please forgive the subheadings, there's a lot to tell.

MIDWIFERY
I made arrangements for me to back up at some planned homebirths early this year. That period has now ended and the score is: Homebirths occurred 3, homebirths attended by me 1.5.

Yeah I know....bummer eh? I was ready, willing and waiting, sleeping with the phone by me and knew they were on. The first I managed to see all the way through as you saw in my previous post. It was stripped back and simple and lovely. The second went into labour overdue by a couple of weeks. The primary midwife attended and was in communication with me, I was ready to leave at a moment's notice, the house was 40 mins from my place. She laboured quietly apparently and was well attended by family. There was radio silence for a while, then an "uuummmm, she went from nothing to pushing and 2 pushes later....ta-da!" So great for her, a first-timer, to birth so well, I'm thrilled for them all, really. But......

The third was a second baby and the first had been really quick. Less than an hour quick! So I was poised to possibly be the first one there as I live closer to her. I am still doing my regular job as well, and we have been trusting to the universe that it will all work out. Phut! The universe clearly didn't get my memo about a late/early split shift last week followed by eight days off which were coinciding with the due date. So when the phone rang at 5.10am I thought it was the alarm gone off early.......Then slammed upright when I blurrily saw that it was the first midwife calling! OOoh, decisions, decisions - she was really quick with the first one, I've got time for her to pop it out and still get to work on time. I committed and dashed out. I got there at 5.27 and she was labouring, but still smiling. Things hotted up, then quietened down, as they do, but my start time was approaching.....I called in that I would be late, and mentally made up my mind that I would stay for now, but that if the birth wasn't imminent at 7.30 I would slip away and the other midwife would call a different midwife to back up. And so it went. Bummer. The baby was born at 9.13am. It would have been too much of a stretch to be that late for work.

So the experience I have gained is of providing antenatal and postnatal care in the community, and also intrapartum care in the woman's own home. I have witnessed one homebirth (my second). It was good. I can see the learning curve before me should I choose to continue to work in this field. I need to gather a lot more equipment. I could easily become used to doing less with women, as they take a lot more responsibility for their own issues than women I usually see through the hospital setting. There is less 'routine' assessment and more reliance on behavioural changes in labour. Spontaneous and physiological, just the way it should be. All the usual assessments are there, just less VEs and when they were done (by the primary MW) they were at points when I would have done them to clarify issues as well.

There is no shortage of work out there. With upcoming changes to maternity service provision by the federal government there are many opportunities for midwives to set up in group practices with Medicare provider numbers and limited prescribing rights, as long as they are deemed 'eligible' (a nebulous description, yet to be fully defined but being worked on furiously) and hold professional indemnity insurance, which will not cover them to birth anywhere but in a hospital. This has recently been released for a cost of $7500 per annum full time cover. Stay tuned! I do plan to become eligible - in fact if I was doing my PD instead of blogging it would happen sooner.

I have also been continuing to work with a group planning the commencement of a midwifery group practice in our hospital, hopefully by mid-year. It has to be signed off by roughly 47,000 people including doctors but I think we're up to 35, 766 signatures and the work is all downhill from here! This would be groundbreaking in this state, and I have seen my name on the sample rosters so it may come true! Can't wait.

HEALTH
Twice this year I have had my life flash before my eyes and prepared for my imminent death.

I wish I was kidding.

What I have learned from this is that my husband really needs a cell phone. So the kids CAN in theory contact him when he is in Sydney for a conference and Mum has died of a stroke. As it was I managed to get an appointment with the GP and get a presciption for antihypertensives just before it blew out any blood vessels in my brain, but I suspect it was close. It was extremely unpleasant. I then developed an attractive rash from the meds and changed them a week later. They remain effective.

The second time was when I was woken by upper abdo pain and thought I was going to throw up. I decamped to the loo whereupon I had an 'episode' of tingling, profuse sweating, pins and needles in my face and arms and extreme lightheadedness and a sense of impending doom. Visions of Elvis abounded and I was convinced I was about to have a heart attack. This was in the very early hours of the morning after our daughter's 21st party, so waking a still inebriated husband was quite challenging, as I swooned on the toilet and resorted to banging the glass screen repeatedly while moaning. After a while I managed to croak out his name loud enough and he stumbled out to find me. An ambulance was called and I was whisked off. It turned out to be a vaso-vagal event (they think) as my heart was fine and my blood pressure was elevated but not catastrophic. Phew. I felt sheepish, but would have felt worse if I hadn't paid attention to it. I have seen someone have a fatal coronary and I felt how they looked....so I did the best I could to get help. It lasted about 10-15 minutes (I think) but it was really scary, and I'm grateful it was something benign.

I have discovered that I am not ready to die.

BIRTHDAYS
My son turned 24. He is a sweetie and good company. Please God, let him pass this last semester at uni. He has a girlfriend. There is much 'noise' coming from his bedroom. There is often another mouth to feed. It is OK.

My daughter turned 21. We had the party we planned except for the fact that the pizza oven was too wide to fit through the gate (or the gate was too narrow for the oven to pass). We were flexible about this and luckily had a wide driveway and a paved frontyard that could be rapidly put to use as the pizzeria. A Good Time was had by all, pizza was made, cooked and consumed with gusto if not in the same square metreage of yard. Tromping through the house was expected anyway. The back patio was gorgeous and people mixed and mingled at the tables we set up. We did two big photoboards for her which were fantastic to do. She received some lovely gifts. People continue to wish her well. This is good.

STORM DAMAGE
The skylight is fixed. A Man came from 50km away to do it. The SES had arrived a few days after the storm and covered and secured it with thick black plastic for which we were grateful. The car remains dented. This PITA is likely to continue to be so for a while as I am too busy to submit a claim.

TRAVELS
WE are taking a family holiday in June to Sydney and Uluru. It will be great! 3 nights in Sydney doing tyouristy things, then a 3 day camping safari around Uluru, The Olgas and King's Canyon. The family will then leave from Alice Springs while I stay there for a national conference. Its all good.

SILVER
Somehow it seems I will have been married for 25 years on May 5th. To the same man. Lucky, eh? Preparations abound for a celebratory dinner. Followed by our trip a few weeks later.

PHOTOS may follow for all the above, but right now I have to go to work. Which was evacuated a few nights ago due to a fire. I wasn't working, but it looked like a nightmare! I'll hear all about it today.

Its all go around here!

Deja-vu

In a re-run of the incredible hailstorm of July last year, today Perth experienced a phenomenal hailstorm with really large hailstones.

I heard solid plinking and plunking and thought someone was tampering with the roof. I went outside to find huge hailstones in the front yard, so I grabbed a camera and took some snaps.

Then it began to rain, and hail some more.....and then came the wind.

Good heavens. I've never seen anything like it!

The upshot of it is that our skylight was smashed and the ceiling panel took direct hits that punched through the plexiglass. There is power in the shaft for the light. Yikes. There were hailstones bouncing all over the kitchen floor and benchtops. When the second front passed the holey plexiglass fell out from the weight of rain falling directly into the kitchen. The rain is still falling. There are more storms predicted for tonight until tomorrow morning.

The shadecloth tore free from the mounting pole where it was triple stitched and has remained unmoved for 15 years, weighted down with at least 20kg of ice and tree debris. I couldn't lift it. I was worried the gutters and fascia boards would fall off under the weight. When Don got home, he lifted the bulky, sagging ice mass and we released one corner. It still hasn't fully melted.

Our car looks a little like a golf ball, with fine dents all over it, but luckily no windows smashed. Many people are a lot worse off, with serious flooding, and landslides, and no power to 150, 000 households. Poor devils. All the same I hope our house will be weatherproof again soon.

The temporary flooding in our yard has settled mostly. What with all the foliage stripped from the trees, it was like wading in very wide shallow heavily minted glass of icy punch. This is where we're having Steff's 21st party on the back patio on Saturday. We're renting a woodfired pizza oven and have 40+ people coming. The garden will be stripped and ice damaged, but . . . oh well. The forecast is fine and 27 degrees. We won't need a shadecloth at night, and I won't have time to repair it before then anyway.

Life's never dull!

Just birth

A candle-lit night of struggle, with nothing but grit and determination and loving support.

Just after dawn, as little ones stirred and sat cuddled on laps, a new family member was born in their own family room.

No bells, no whistles, quite ordinary, yet profound and timeless in its simplicity. A testament to the strength of woman.

Welcome to the world baby boy.

Night shift news

Hello world. Phew. Night shift and labrynthitis are a bad combination.

It was getting better until sleep disturbance and nausea kicked in, or they kicked each other in....or, oh heck who knows? Anyway I'm on the second of 3 days off, before I lose 5 days of my life with 4 nightshifts over the weekend. Sigh.

I did three shifts with two nights early this week. Good shifts, if slightly mad. Really busy on Monday night. Dementedly so, poor coordinator was tearing her hair out. I happened to be in the rooms in her eyeline so every time I walked past I would get another little job to do. "quick - 29 weeker coming in, wants to push, you're it!" The woman arrives, screeches to a halt in a room with a big resus unit hastily assembled in a just cleaned room, not very distressed or labouring particularly, a little pain arrives, doesn't palp too strongly, yes waters have broken...or have they? The story is convincing with a witness. Ooh, baby's coming! she wails. Can I check? May I begin? Cervix long and closed and tucked away behind baby's head, just where it belongs. Excellent. Good news! You're not going to have your baby in the next hour. Lets take you back around to the assessment unit, where you can get sorted and admitted. Its too late for a fetal fibronectin test (which will indicate if she's likely to labour in the next week) as I have examined her, but it turns out she is known to staff as a 'frequent flyer' with every little thing and vague twinge. Ambulance guys have to take things on face value and bring em in, and if things were as presented we were ready to deal with it. As it was the floor of that room could now continue to dry undisturbed.

I had been sent to theatre on arrival for a breech CS. Lovely couple, sweet baby, wet and steaming to her chest, alert and responsive. Great photos, happy relatives. I was happily present when the grandparents learned the sex of their newborn first grandchild and saw him, travelling with us to the ward. Joy all around. Told her about a clinic at our hospital for women experiencing second birth after CS, so she could start planning her next birth. Back to LBS and had a cuppa.

Technically had 2 women at this point, being induced. Gave antibiotics to one of them. The other one was snoring. Got given another woman, a multip in early labour at 4cm, contracting irregularly...but who knows, sometimes multiparous women only need half an hour of good contractions before they produce the goods. Settled her into a room on my corridor (yeah, I had a whole one to myself by this time) and went in search of a listening lead for my CTG. Bloody hell, none to be found. Grabbed a handheld Doptone and made use of that instead. Major language barrier, my Mandarin is not that hot, but we established a pleasant simple rapport as I listened in and then made tea for her and her mother. I left her to it and popped in each half hour. She went off the boil, well....was never really simmering in my time with her anyway. She went on to birth at 11-ish in the morning.

In the meantime I was still dogsbodying my way through the night, attending an imminent birth of a 7th child, there was thick meconium so I called a paed for the birth and prepared the cot in case he didn't make it in time. The fetal heartrate dropped dramatically, and the baby was not coming despite vigorous pushing from the experienced mum. Sunny-side up, we all said, but the heartrate was getting really low. We'd called a few docs when the FH dropped and they quickly attached a simple suction device and helped baby out, covered in mec. He was floppy and flat as a tack, but we didn't stimulate him immediately, as the paed needed to suck out his airway so he didn't breathe mec into his lungs. HR was 40 while we poised ourselves ready to commence chest compressions, right, GO! A minute of compressions and oxygen saw his heartrate improve but he was still completely non-responsive and floppy, I ducked out to grab an oximeter from the room next door (where the 29 weeker didn't deliver) and when I came back baby was squawking and starfishing and protesting at his awakening. Poor little mite, it was all a bit sudden, but he was down and on the way out, and as much as I promote gentle birth, I was quite glad to see him yelling. I stayed there for another half hour, to get him settled and cuddled up and fed, and documenting the resus, then returned to my odd jobs. I was most grateful to get a dinner break, then I received another semi-labouring second-timer who had a quick birth last time. She too was not quite ready to labour, but I made her comfortable, hubby re-parked the car (during which time she didn't have a single contraction) and she went on to birth at 5.30 later that day. I handed over 3 women to 3 different midwives and staggered home, literally walking home half asleep.

The next night I was allocated to first-timer who had been stuck at 2 cm, on stacks of synto. Everyone assumed she was for the chop, but my student and I breezed in with positive attitudes and explained about cervical effacement and assured her that the cervix was ready to get on with it now and start dilating. And it came true! Her epidural had been working really well, and continued to do so. The trace had been really good, and was mostly good still, it just had a pattern of decelerations one sees with head compression, followed by a period of sleep where the trace looks quiet. We worked our butts off in that room, keeping the trace well monitored, adjusting the receivers, keeping the epidural well topped up, fending off doctors who kept showing up and scaring the woman, talking about 'heart rate dips, can only do it for so long, then they get tired' wanting to do fetal scalp samples, but every time that dear little baby showed a fabulous acceleration when it was needed and warded off intervention. In the end she was born easily and quite beautifully, despite the doctors inviting themselves into the room and standing at the end of the bed and itching to get their hands in there, and asking if we had episiotomy scissors. We held them off, almost literally, and the little one emerged via the student and I to her stunned and thrilled Mum and grandma, after a mammoth effort. The doctors disappeared like magic, and the student and I dealt with a snapped cord and got the placenta out without them, whole and intact, although we did invite the doctors back to do some straightforward suturing and assist with management of a slow PPH, which had been anticipated after that much synto. There was no CS. There was no transfer to theatre for placenta removal, there was a beautiful healthy 3.7kg baby and her Mum staying in the same room, where they had stoically borne their labour together. It was a great result really.

I was sad that the docs felt they had a right to come in uninvited and stand at the end of the bed, scolding her at her to 'push into your bottom' (as if any of them had ever done it themselves). If we hadn't been there they would have held her vagina open so they could see the descent and crowning better! I feel sad that they so rarely see the way a midwife conducts a birth, with gentle encouragement and positive language. We see their way of work frequently, and frankly it can be pretty brutal sometimes. It is noteworthy when its not. Sometimes it seems that they know no other way but fear and mistrust of birth, and litigation, and invading the privacy of the moment in their relentless quest for accountability. We will call them in if we need them. We do, honestly. Just like we did for the little one with thick mec and the really declining heart rate. I like having docs there to expand the skill level if need be. They are our back-up. We work together. I don't mean to doctor-bash. This is more a doctor-whinge maybe. But when they come in uninvited I can sometimes hear myself sounding a bit terse as I respond to their appearance, at which time I politely and pointedly introduce them to the woman and her family as if they had entered the woman's home, which in effect, the birthing space is, or should be. I try to believe that they KNOW this is the case, but somehow they don't behave that way. I'm sure they think I'm a grumpy cow towards them some days. Thats to the ones that aren't arrogant. When they are being mentored by the insufferably arrogant, they are just asking for terseness.

But I can guarantee them this. If, and when, any of them are in my care when they are labouring and birthing I will protect their rights to privacy and advocate just as strongly on their behalf as I do for any woman I care for. And I will use my clinical judgement to call for back-up when the situation warrants it.

Because I love being a midwife.

In a spin

Thankyou for all your best wishes on the blogiversary and the MIPP thing.

I am putting some plans in place to gain some experience in a different style of midwifery. I have some role models, some contacts. Approaches have been made.

I have been a bit flat out: with work, illness, resting (snort), planning and organising for a major event on November, overseeing my daughter in a work experience placement and the transport training for that. I've been reading a bit (Russell Brand - My booky-wook- fascinating 8/10, and the new Dan Brown ' The Lost Symbol' - formulaic 6/10). Trying to stay relaxed. Taking the tablets. Can I just say that labrynthitis sucks. Big time. I like having my head and my world steady. Without drugs. Its most weird. But at least I know that I don't have a brain tumour, or was not having a stroke at that time. Despite very raised blood pressure for a short time (its absolutely fine now). That's a good thing. Phew. Sigh. Did you notice some of the mutually exclusive things on the above list?

And don't talk to me about mobile phones that go all independent of thought. Mine keeps turning itself off. Just without warning. Its most inconvenient, when there is so much to do.

Its been a strange week.

Finally, Frogdancer and Victoria - there are presents on the way to you both by the end of the month. That's as good a deadline as I can deal with at the moment.

Right, work have called, they are short of an idiot / midwife, and my number came up. So much for extended days off.

See ya.

A week in dot points

• If you're looking for something midwife-y and moving today...sorry...I don't have much However.....I've seen some yummy babies born.
• Father's day was really lovely at both ends, with young Dads greeting their first-borns, along with both Grandads in the labour room until it got intense i.e. time for pushing...then I cheerfully turfed them out to the waiting room with a hearty "Its time to go guys, next time I see you it will be with congratulations!" They were quite happy to go, while the young Dad jigged with excitement by the woman's side. He was soooooo happy to be meeting his son, and his 19y.o. partner did a lovely job of pushing the baby out. Both so accepting of the role ahead, breastfeeding promptly, then taking the baby out to meet his two grandfathers on Father's Day. Really sweet.
• Night shift. The work is good, the staff are great, the workload ridiculous at times, with barely a lull in proceedings, (trying not to) rush from room to room, turning on the charm again and again to butter up a new room of folk, just waiting, waiting, trying not to make any promises one can't keep. Coping with emergencies. Hooley dooley, we had one really big one last weekend, there were just two midwives present and my colleague saved a woman's life, literally, with bimanual compression. She kept it up while I called in for help again after the initial stuff had seemed to work, then I lifted her onto the bed so it sould continue all the way to theatre. It was mind-boggling, but she survived. Its never dull in our place, but a bit more peace would be very welcome.
• At home, my daughter has now spent her second week home alone since her workplace closed unexpectedly. BUGGER! She had made such a lovely start and was really gaining confidence, now she is job-hunting again, back to filling in heaps of forms and getting to know a new bunch, and they her. Sigh. And she needs company alot so I am unable to get any time alone to craft etc. Sigh. It gives me cabin fever, but she suffers it too, especially when I am sleeping on night shift. Double sigh.
• My hubby has been unwell with a bad elbow joint, septic bursitis they are calling it. He was admitted to hospital for IV antibiotics yesterday and is now home, although the area of redness and swelling is re-growing (i think) since he came home. He still feels quite unwell, but as he hates hospitals with a passion he was very keen to be discharged. He unfortunately won't let me fuss over him too much, much as I want to. I hope he doesn't have to be re-admitted, cos that might mean surgery.
• While he was in hospital I got to visit a friend who has been in for a fortnight and I have barely been able to see her due to nightshift. She needs a bit of TLC, and I feel bad not being available to provide it except by text.
• While Don was being ferried back and forth and admitted etc, I took Steff to swimming, and then attended a fundraiser I had committed to helping with a month or more ago. My mind was not quite with it, I must confess.
• And then we (Steff and I) went out to my sister's for dinner. We had a roast which was very yummy, and Steff had made a dessert while Don was being diagnosed. My brother-in-law was disappointed to be missing his drinking buddy. I came home just after 9.30 and couldn't settle and went to bed way too late, sleeping heavily in the end alone in the bed.
• Don is home now, and still not terrific, but on oral antibiotics, and sleeping currently. We have made cake to feed to visitors who will NOT find him in hospital and will drop in at home. He most determinedly spent the day prowling around his garden, revelling in the sunshine, and now he is knackered. I'm off to take his temperature and be his nurse and give him drugs.
• Its been a strange weekend, after a lost week on nightshift.
• 
  Sorry about that. You can fill in the blanks....

Correspondent's report

Hi Laura,

Time is flying past. Tom-Tom now 2.5yo. Still cute, fun and full of energy. He's talking very well now.

I hope these don't take too long to download for you.
cheers

love Jo

***********************************************************************************

OOOHHHHHH JO!

Thankyou so much, I actually ACHED with longing when I saw that child in the photos and now I'm in tears cos I miss him (and you, my darling) so much.

I want to get on a plane right now and bring you all HERE!!!!!

Why don't you live next door? Why has my sister moved back to Perth so I don't go through Melbourne or nearby lately!!!!!! Dammit!
I am heading to Adelaide on Sept 21st for the conference, and wish you were coming too. Rats.

We truly need to live closer together so I can smooch your lovely children. (throbs with longing for those gorgeous kids....) Tom is unbearably beautiful, I bet he is such fun chattering away and dragging cats around. The photos of him with Darwin are gorgeous, and Georgie is looking like a mini-you. I'm sure Andy was just moving too fast to be captured on film! I just can barely believe how much I love that Tom-Tom, and am especially thrilled to be the first to have seen his sweet face. This midwifery deal is a pretty special gig.

I have just surfaced today after a stint of night shift so will rejoin the land of the living...the work on LBS at night is very absorbing but can be torrid at times, last night was one of those, just pulled from room to room with IOL left right and centre, and the previous night's ones still lingering and only just producing the goods 24 hrs later, or failing and having CS. I had a nice baby at 5.53am by vacuum, compound presentation which meant the Mum's epidural wasn't as effective while she was pushing - you know how they really hurt that extra bit with a hand as well. OUCH. The Mum was so loving and gorgeous to her baby as soon as she was out, it was beautiful to see. Three minutes later, at 0600 was a birth (with another midwife) to a multip who I had cared for initially that night before being moved, and as I left at 7.40am I stopped by theatre to see another primip who had not gone into labour after a tough 24 hours of trying, and was about to meet her babe by CS. I had been caring for her as well last night, and she headed off to OT just as I was in the thick of things for the vacuum, so another midwife took her up. Its all go I tell ya!

Has it really been 9 months since you moved in? Time flies! Any further midwifery work for you? What else you been up to?- as if those gorgeous monkeys aren't enough to keep you fully occupied.

Anyway...I will call you soon,

Thanks again so much for sending those pics (get Georgie to take one of you too!)

Much love, dear friend, I really miss you

Laura x x x x x

Laying low

I am here, alive, just on night shift, and quite absorbed in the other doings of life.

Thankyou all so much for your kind words about my memories of my Dad. He was quite a man. I have enjoyed seeing that photo on my blog.

I am reading everyone else's blogs, dropping comments here and there, I just haven't had much chance to post as I am sharing the computer with the boy wonder currently as well. There's fierce competition.

What else have I been up to?

I have had a sister turn 40.

We have lost a dear cousin to lung cancer after a brief illness. As this branch of the family are Tassie there have been many phonecalls, and flowers sent, and notices lodged. It is not fair to lose such a lively witty man, who had such depths that he hid so readily. He follows his late son, his only child who died in a car crash about 15 years ago. He was loved by many.

Stephanie has finished work for now, as her site closed unexpectedly with short notice. She is now going to pursue open employment (gulp) as the alternative supported placements are probably not for her, sadly. We're all putting a brave face on it but it is disappointing after she was settling in so well and experiencing some success. The new phase involves MANY appointments, not always easy to fit in with shift work, or her Dad's work commitments.

I have worked 20 hours, and been flat tack with some very messy and tricky cases. Had a birth just in the nick of time 7 minutes before knock off yesterday morning, that kept me busy for a further hour or more. This was after a pretty torrid night, but we were grateful to see this baby and end his Mum's suffering ... she really suffered, quite unusually given the numbers of measures in place for her comfort, but it happens sometimes. Her little one really needed to be out for complicated reasons and finally he emerged in a fragile state, into the arms of paeds who resuscitated him very well and he is doing OK in the nursery where he can finish growing without relying on an abrupting placenta!

And today a new baby was born into the Tassie family, another grandchild to dear cousin Susan and her husband Richard, after the loss of her elder brother last week. They will welcome two more grandchildren by Xmas, one from each of their surviving 3 children. They too lost an adult daughter in a separate motorbike accident over a decade ago. They are stoic and brave, but I know they all miss seeing her become a parent along with her siblings.

Welcome to the world Abel Craig, named after your Mum's cousin. Babies are such a treasure.

And finally in the midst of it all I have been quite obsessed with playing Bejewelled Blitz on Facebook. It is VERY BAD. And VERY ADDICTIVE. The chink-chinking sound of the jewels clicking into place sends me into a trance and I spend waaaaay too much time developing RSI in my tapping-the-mousepad finger..... I am fairly disciplined with it, and set myself a time limit but I have been known to exceed it. I'm doing fairly well though....

Today I have been a housefrau staying in to see the refrigerator repair man...who informs me that I need a new fridge. When I think about it the old one is 21 years old! Its done very well, but I'm sure there are much more energy efficient ones available. We kind of chose one this evening, with a 5.5 star rating, but then came home to rearrange the kitchen a bit to accommodate it, so I'll go back and buy it for real tomorrow. Isn't my life scintillating?

Well, I'm off to bed, very late but I'm between night shifts and its barely worth retraining my body clock after 2 shifts on with 3 off before 4 more nights, so I've been staying up late. Sigh.

Thanks for feeding the fishies!

Dennis' daughter

Eighty years ago today my father was born in a little place called Wylkatchem, Western Australia.

From what I know of it he had a tough early life.

He was a young boy in the Depression. The second of three children, much later there was a fourth. Life was hard. I don't know when it was that Grandma became a single parent after the breakdown of the marriage, but I know times were tough.

Dad talked of living (as a child) on the banks of the river in a tent. This was in Perth. He talked of being in a reform school in his teens in Sydney.

He was a man's man. Largely self-taught. He valued education but was wary of the arrogance of class privilege that often came with an educated person's lifestyle.

He was very intelligent, with an easy grasp of most subjects - especially in the science engineering and physics field. He could do fantastic technical drawings. He could make anything structural of steel to any specifications. He could weld.

He drove taxis. He rode motorbikes with sidecars at the Speedway. He drove trucks, including big prime movers. He could repair any engine, on any machine.

He was a Mason. He valued service and integrity. He valued family. He could hold a grudge.

He preferred plain cooking, but appreciated good slow Italian cooking, a bit of Chinese and a good Singaporean chilli crab.

In his later years he worked as a mechanic, an engineering estimator, and a security guard.

He respected guns, and taught me to shoot. He took me out driving in every vehicle my license would allow me to drive, so I could be confident to drive anything I got behind, except somehow he never taught me to back a trailer. Oops. Still, I've driven tractors, trucks, stick shifts, column shifts, automatics, vintages and you-name-its.

He loved lollies, and had quite a sweet tooth. He was fiercely independent and very private. We didn't have a lot, but we had enough and I felt rich, and secure. He played Lotto. He had his chair, a recliner rocker that was hotly contested as long as he was not in it. This is how I remember him very clearly. I'm delighted I have such a 'like' photo of him, and although there are others of him around, this is a beauty. Cropped out is the cat at his feet.

He loved to fish, and I wish I could lay my hands on a wonderful photo of him holding two enormous deep sea dhufish, after a great day of fishing, the cats at his feet. He loved his cats. He loved dogs too, and used to breed dachshunds when I was a small child, but my Mum didn't like dogs, so they had to go.

He was a hoarder, a pack rat. Remind you of anyone? You should have seen his shed when he died. I still have some of his stuff, including his diary from the year I was born, noting my birth. I treasure his handwriting.

He loved his four daughters, and always vowed that he was more than happy to be the father of four girls, with no sons. I was born when he was 32, the last of us a few days after his 40th birthday. I remember making him a card for his 40th. This week I will make a 40th card for that sister.

He was allegedly domestically capable, but this was rarely demonstrated. Instead he was waited on hand and foot, his cuppa quickly fetched within minutes of his return after a hard day's work.

He was a sparse drinker who enjoyed a tipple but rarely over-indulged. Gift bottles of whisky would last for years, eked out in his occasional Irish coffee. He always smoked however, for a few years it was a pipe, later rollies.

I have a treasured memory of him in the last days of his life, in a palliative care unit at the time, sitting outside on a patio, offering me his ancient woollen dressing gown against the evening cold, while he rolled a smoke. We sat together peaceably for a time and then he was tired and I tucked him back in bed. It was the last conversation we ever shared.

The next morning he slipped into unconsciousness, and was taken home where we spent the next 48 hours preparing to let him go. He was barely rousable. The only words he spoke that weekend were of love. "Th'nk you" "Love you" as we turned him, or cleaned him, or stroked him. It was pretty special, and a great privilege to nurse him at the end of his life. He died peacefully on a Sunday at lunchtime, hours after seeing an old friend from Speedway days. We laid him out in his full Masonic regalia, as a Past Master, with family photos in his pocket, his XXXX strong peppermints, money for the paper. The months of his illness had finally seen the grease stains fade from his fingertips, and the undertakers somehow buffed out the welding sparks from his glasses. We were so astonished that we each commented on it at the viewing.

He was a man of dignity and few words, but occasionally he would rabbit on about an unlikely topic. He spoke to all men. He loved children, and called them all Charlie. Five of his grandchildren were born in his lifetime, luckily mine, as the eldest, knew him. The working windmill and swing he built for my kids are still in my yard.

He died one month after he turned 65, from pancreatic cancer, a fast and aggressive cancer that took no prisoners. It is on both sides of the family, and I feel a little daunted at the thought that I may have seen my future end. I hope I have the courage and dignity he showed.

I miss him, and yet I don't. Everything he was to me, he still is. A guide, a mentor, a role model. Steadfast, old-fashioned but interested in innovation. I have his lessons, and he is within me. I often sense his presence. Sometimes I hear myself laughing his throaty deep chuckle. Of course I do miss him, and love him, his acceptance and insights. Even now, fifteen years after his passing, I still have the instinct to tell him something. He was a thinker. I wish he could visit, but maybe he does. I know he would be proud of me, of the Laura I am today. Except he called me Jane. Its a long story. I'm not sure what he'd make of us all now. Things have really changed a lot for our family, not all for the better.

But, today I celebrate the anniversary of his birth. The roast dinner is on. I will raise a glass. Writing this has led to more than a tear or two (where're the tissues when you need them?). This is my favourite photo of my Dad and I together on my wedding day in 1985.And I am proud to be Dennis' daughter.

Many and varied

Hello Monday.

Another weekend on night shift was had. Friday night shift will go down as a bit of a doozy, for busyness, for grace under pressure and under fire, for teamwork. I'm not sure how many babies were born, but it was probably about 10 on Friday night alone, and around 22 all up over the 3 shifts I worked. There were Code Blues, abruptions transferred in from other places, flat babies, newly birthed women being shipped back to hospitals closer to home, lists of which hospitals could take what cases (antenatal women, postnatal women). There were births in the assessment unit, successful VBACs, unsuccessful VBACs, and more. There were tears (sniff, sniff), and tears (ouchy). It was pretty mad!

I had a tough situation on Friday night where my woman ended up with a CS after a long and difficult labour. By God she was brave and tried so hard to get that baby out, but in the end it was a good decision to bring her out 'through the sunroof'. Such a beautiful baby, such a lovely couple, so close and a great team, very practical and down-to-earth, after a long few nights. I lost the plot briefly, very emotional about the decision for CS, but the family were great as I returned to the room, red-eyed, and accepted my warning stop-signed hand 'DON'T talk to me about it' gesture as a sign of solidarity as we just got on with it, and I was fine after that. It was a good decision, and I feel much better about it all in retrospect than I did at that moment. It was a rare thing for me. Once again, although we had threatened to have words with that baby when she was born, young Bella was too beautiful and soon had us all completely under her spell with no hard feelings.

Saturday night was pretty hectic as well. Arriving at work feeling slightly anxious about the thought of another stressful and emotional night, I walked into my room expecting to get a baby as the coordinator had said I would be getting one soon in that room. The curtain was drawn and I waited behind it to be invited in after announcing myself in a low voice. I could hear the familiar sounds of instruments being handled and clamps being applied, but no words of encouragement, or congratulations, or, worse, baby crying. I peeked around and asked if they had a baby yet and was told tersely 'Yes at 2104' I could see a purple baby and grabbed some gloves and followed the second midwife to the cot in the corner behind a tangle of the woman's possessions. The heartrate was low, bloody low, so I got started on cardiac massage without delay as we called for a code blue paediatric. The baby was very blue, but had some tone, and responded well to the CPR. At 3 minutes she was just starting to gasp a bit, and with the improved cardiac output was starting to pink up as we pumped the oxygen around her little body, and the team were arriving as she started to cry a little. By 4 minutes she was breathing independently, with some facial oxygen. By the time she was 8 minutes old she was in her Mum's arms, although she needed to go down to the nursery for observation.

Phew! That shook the cobwebs out! And restored my confidence in my skills. Phew. The woman was a tricky and complex case with a major history, and it took a bit of time to sort out the whole backstory, but she was up and showered and on the ward by 11pm.

As I returned at 11.20pm I was almost mown down as a trolley containing a young woman was brought around from assessment, her eyes wide with shock. I was available and thrown in to a just vacated and clean, but unreplenished room with her as she screamed in panic for an epidural. It was her second baby and it was determined to be born by midnight it seemed! Each contraction brought on a fresh bout of ear-splitting and sustained screaming. As it subsided the young Mum turned her bulging eyes on me and begged for an epidural. Then the next wave came and she would scream again in panic and say 'what do I do?'

The other staff were great. I asked for a doptone, and if there was another midwife who could stay for 20 minutes (there was, luckily) so she opened delivery sets, and drew up oxytocics, and within 2 minutes we were ready for a birth, and after 5 minutes we were ready for anything. While they organised the technicalities I stayed seated at Mum's knee, soothing her in a gentle voice, reassuring her that she was very clever, and very good at this, she didn't need to do anything, just let it happen. I could see some twitching and unflowering (accompanied by a bit of freaking out) and gradually she settled down and surrendered to it. It was actually a very nice birth once she let go of the panic and stopped trying to hold it in. Once the irresistible pushing reflex kicked in she was superb, and listened really well to guidance and at 2343 she gently pushed out a daughter (with a compound hand tucked under her left ear) with an intact perineum. The baby was vigorous and was chirping before she was fully out. Mum was a bit shocked and her first instinct was to say 'yeah great take it away, I'm tired' but after a minute or so she took a look at her and showed a bit more curiosity. She had heaps of black curls and big dark eyes, and was very interested in looking around, so soon had her stunned Mum under her spell.

What a remedy for my soul. A quickie! Just what I needed! I skipped off to tea with number 52 on my mind. I spent the next 2 hours sorting out her paperwork, and getting her up to the ward (where she apologised for being 'rude' to me - nothing of the sort - and admitted her throat was sore some screaming). She had been visited by her family including hubby and her 1 year old - who was incredibly beautiful with the same dark curls, big blue eyes and the most incredible eyelashes I have ever seen - she looked like she had been in a beauty parlour all afternoon!

The rest of the shift was spent on paperwork from the previous 2 births that had been unattended while we dashed around. I then went down to the nursery to see some twins I was caring for 3 weeks ago, and sadly the smaller twin had died. It was not unexpected, but still I was a bit tearful. His parents were very pragmatic about his chances of survival, and were grateful to have a few hours with him, not expecting him to survive the birth, and he lived for just over two weeks. I visited him and his twin brother 3 times, and will never forget him. He was the smallest living little person I (or any of us) had ever seen. He was such a fighter. Our nursery staff really are terrific. They managed to have the surviving twin attend the service in an incubator on portable breathing support, an accommodation that I know will mean alot to his family. They have been very brave. I hope to see them soon.

As we prepared to leave there was a birth underway where the trace had looked really crap for the last 40 minutes. We were gloved up outside the door to rescuscitate again if necessary, which would have been a fitting bookend to the night, but the day staff arrived before the birth and shooed us out the door. I wonder what happened.

Back to the real daylight world this week. I will miss the night staff. All our staff are great and we have terrific teamwork, but the night girls are a special crew. I will see them, and work with them again, in a few weeks.

I love being a midwife.

Because...

To satisfy the curiosity of a certain friend, I gave Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince 8/10 because...well its difficult to explain. Maybe I'd better just evaluate it as is.

The plot is not strictly according to the book. In the way that film 3 was condensed, with scenes from the book taken slightly out of sequence, or rolled into one for brevity. This film does the same, and it works and removes some of the tedious repetition. There are also completely new scenes and dialogue not from the book. Mostly these work, but one or two give away bits of the plot that one does not come to understand until later. There is a particularly menacing scene set at Xmas. Some characters don't appear at all. Some lose their lines to a different character in one scene then regain them later.

Snape and Draco Malfoy are both played with much more sympathy than previously seen. Some of the Draco stuff is touching. Dumbledore is really good in this, his scenes at the end moving but understated -just the way he would like them, really. Michael Gambon is terrific this time, he approaches Richard Harris for gravitas at last.

The main trio are all really good, and growing up beautifully. They each carry their scenes without too much mawkishness for a change, although Ron Weasley is a bit of a dope. He also has some funny scenes, with Harry, who has a delightful scene alone while under the influence. Teen hormones are raging! And boy, does that Ginny Weasley know what she wants.

Cinematography was good. The mood was amazing, no sweetness and light here. And the scenes in the cave were well realised. Great tension towards the end of the film. Slightly disappointed to have no funeral to sob over further, with a strangely awkward bit of editing that shifts the mood a bit prematurely for me, ending with a very obvious ribbon tying class for loose ends and demonstrating the way forward. If it had gone a bit harder with the grief work I may have been more satisfied, but the romance and comedy was great. Luna Lovegood was delightful.

It didn't drag in the slightest, in fact I would have been happy to sit for another 10-15 minutes to include a scene or two more. I especially missed one of the opening scenes from the book involving Fudge and the muggle Prime Minister, although the atmosphere was well and truly established by brief scenes of London under attack.

Once again I was frustrated by how much Dumbledore knew and didn't teach Harry. What a waste!

Maybe eight is a bit mean. Its possibly a nine. I can't wait to see it again!

Multitasking

Happy Harry Day!

We are going to see the latest HP flick tonight and we are sooooo excited! There is jumping up and down! And that's just with ME!

Also on my to-do list for today:

Colour my hair (in progress, be grateful I don't have live webcam)

Hang out washing (done) before men come to pull down the back fence adjacent to washing line (only found out about this one 30 minutes ago)

Hopefully have hair and shower achieved by the time men come to do said fence.

Fold a very large amount of washing.

Vacuum through.

Make fried rice and pumpkin scones for a pre-Harry large avo-tea, as the session goes over dinner time and I know I'm not gonna last.

Cut and colour my sister's hair.

Fuss over my Mum who is quite sick with a shocking chest, but insists on coming to Harry tonight. She can gawk at photos while I do hair.

Receive, feed and keep the hysteria down on 2, no, 3, no ....well, on all of our pre-Harry excitement. Oh who am I kidding? I can't wait!!!!!

Better get onto it!

About that piece of patisserie...

Never boast on your blog that getting to an airport is going to be a piece of patisserie.

I am now at home in my own cluttered study. We walked through our door just before 5am, drooping with weariness after a very long journey home.

We boarded the RER train in plenty of time to hit the airport well ahead of our flight. Then the train stopped before emerging onto the second station. I immediately felt Don's panic rising as we sat in a tunnel, with PA announcements not to open the doors. Eventually we crawled into the station where people were exchanged, then after a short delay we set off again. Approaching the next station this was repeated with additional announcements about a known delay at a stop 2 further along. We sat and waited. And waited. There was another announcement confirming significant delays of unknown duration due to there being a person on the track at Stade de France. Don went from jittery to practically whistling like a newly boiled kettle! I had already offered to get off and get a taxi, which he had declined. Now I just stood up and grabbed the cases. It was no longer an offer but a certainty. The track was blocked. There was no way around the obstacle because there would be no further trains beyond the blockage to pick up.

We emerged onto the street to an empty taxi rank. Don was swearing and hypercrabby about every jolt of the cases over every bump. I ground my teeth and picked up my guide book (that I had nearly packed in the suitcase) and my mobile phone (with the battery failing fast) and called a taxi company. Just as she was promising me a cab in 7 minutes one pulled up (in front of a bus)in response to Don's frantic hailing. We piled in gratefully as the phone battery died. Eighteen minutes later we arrived where I was left as hostage to the taxi driver while Don entered the airport to find an ATM. He emerged after 10 minutes with 60 euros which he thrust at the driver for a 48 euro fare. When you tot up how much our initial tickets had cost as well, it was a very expensive airport ride!

We checked in easily, in plenty of time and headed to the gate where our seats would be allocated. The girl at the counter assured me we would have good seats but the flight was full. We queued dutifully and passed through all the security checks and got on to our bulkhead seats the centre two of four, with no-one on our outsides. Until ... 5 minutes prior to closing the doors a man with a cute baby appeared on one side, with many bags and trying to hold the kid while he stuffed things into overhead lockers. I beckoned for the baby who flirted very appealingly with me. As I was mid-flirt, a young woman appeared from the other side, looking curiously at me and frowning at the man across us. I then noticed that she had put down a baby carrier at the exit row. As she dumped more bags in the seat next to me it was quite clear that the baby had a Mama. And a sister. And that Don and I were somehow seated between parents of 8-month old twins. Two babies! Yes, I'm so lucky to be on a long flight with two babies, Mama moaned. We offered to move so they could sit together. Our offer was rejected irritably. It seemed she was just quite irritated. Full stop.

Papa had retrieved his little guy from me and was struggling to get him double seat-belted in place for take-off. Mama had settled the sleeping little girl to her chest under many floaty drapes without noticing the need for a double seat-belt. She turned her head and tried to feign sleep, while sniffing away tears. Okay.....

As we taxiied she leaned forward and saw the extra seat-belt stuffed into the seat pocket. She clucked her tongue and curled her lip as I offered to help. It would have been nice to know of this earlier she snarled. I applied my soothing never mind, it won't take a minute voice as she lifted the draped sleeping baby from her chest and I groped for her seatbelt, unfastened it, added the baby bit and reclipped it onto her, then clicked it around the baby. There, there. We took off to the loud wailing of baby boy, dummyless (it was in one of the many bags). Sigh.

It didn't get much better from there, in fact it descended into some level of hell for the first 8 hours of the 12 hour flight which left at midnight. As soon as the seatbelt sign was switched off the flight staff assembled the bulkhead bassinets for the babies, but only after they put up our screens on stalks from the armrests of our seats, effectively trapping us in our extremely hard seats for the duration of the flight.

(edited to add:If it sounds like I am hard and unsympathetic to families flying with two babies across the world...um....I don't mean to be. My heart did sink for them, a bit, as soon as I saw them. But it sank for us a trifle more, especially when I realised that the bassinets meant we would be trapped in our seats. They themselves had asked to be seated in that configuration. They did refuse to be sat together, and frankly it would not have made much difference. Someone had to sit next to them. Besides, my ass wouldn't fit into one of the aisle seats anyway. And I do like babies, so ... I suspect I was somewhat reluctant partly because I had a cold-sore healing on my face, and I couldn't snuggle and drool on them as I would ordinarily like. I looked like a leper. It was a drawback.)


Am I painting an effective picture? A bulkhead seat never gives quite enough legroom anyway with the seatpockets blocking full knee extension. The seats were rock-hard from the moment we sat down. They didn't tilt back much, and we couldn't extend our legs anyway. The aircon was set to inferno. The seats were so narrow my hips were cemented in the forward facing position. The couple tutted at each other across us, each dealing with their own baby. And Don and I tried to get some sleep (who am I kidding) It. was. not. good. Because of the bassinet barriers we had to climb up onto the seats and walk over the armrests to get out to go to the toilet. I managed it twice on my side and had to wake Mama up from her deep sleep (in those 5 mins) to get back in.

After 8 hours we possibly lost all sensation to our backs and lower limbs, because it seemed we were marginally less uncomfortable, but it could have been that our spines were now permanently remoulded. I'll let you know about that.

Breakfast was served about 1.5 hours prior to landing and both parents had their hands full. After we finished Papa was struggling to get a mouthful with a wriggling little guy who was yelling his head off so he came to sit on my lap again for a while and I fed him a breadroll which kept him very amused for 20 minutes as he gummed and sucked it to death and rained crumbs down the two of us. Mama had disappeared for a while but when she came back her little girl decided that she wanted some of the roll too so we passed it around and all got crumby together. It was a fun way to end the flight.

They live in Singapore so were not coming on to Perth (shame) but we landed to the news that the homeward flight was delayed by 2.5 hours, so we had 4 hours in Singapore. That left us with time to scour the terminals looking for a replacement hat for a fantastic little number that Steff had lost in Melbourne after only 2 weeks last year. It was such a good hat that it needed to be replaced. We found it in the last terminal we searched. It was so worth it.

Finally our flight boarded and we had a row of four to ourselves. There is a God. A bit of sleep then an hour of immigration, baggage waiting, customs and taxi queues.

We crept into the house and put the kettle on (its been 2 weeks since we've seen a kettle) while I jumped into the shower. Then I got out hurriedly to let Don in to cool off a burn to his groin from a hot cuppa he had slopped straight from the kettle. Bugger. It was not too bad but it stopped him from sleeping in bed as he needed a cold compress to stop it blistering. Luckily it missed all the interesting bits of anatomy, but it made him think twice about sleepily getting naked in anticipation of a shower while manoevering boiling water! Its OK today, although for a minute there I could see myself heading straight to the hospital at 5.30am before we'd even slept.


The house was in good shape. Presents have been given and well received. I'm heading out to the shops to get a roast for dinner. I've seen both of the kids only now- Steff went to work while I was crashed this morning and Don only saw her briefly before he fell back asleep on the couch, and she has just arrived home. Mum is blogging...what else is new - in my defense I had hoped to be finished with it but got interrupted with a phonecall I couldn't get out of. Our reunion was very happy nonetheless.

I haven't downloaded any photos yet. You'll see them when I do.