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Saturday 28 February 2009

This is going to be interesting

Jack isn't allowed to go for a walk for two weeks! TWO WEEKS!! Not even gentle exercise or little walks - No. Walks. At. All! Any of you who have met and/or know, or have heard stories about our dogs will know exactly how terrible a thought that is ... for him and for us.

Poor puppy!!

The surgery went well though - he'll be good as new, it's just that because he made a bit of a mess they had to cut away some of the skin/flesh (I know ... as a dearly loved friend puts it ... it makes my bum go funny to think of it!) and stretch skin and flesh back over to cover the area so if he tears it/undermines the surgery we've got problems. It didn't even occur to me until Al got home from the vets - apparently he was lucky he didn't tear an artery. As in, very lucky. I nearly fainted when that wee thought processed fully.

He carries his war wounds well though, don't you think? (I think we look a bit more dreadful than he does, but then, we have to pay the vet bill)



And because you know you want to see more photos of the kidlet ...

Happy bath time! (OK, he looks a bit horrified in the first pic, but he does actually love his baths. We had grand plans to shower him, but with his wind and crazies in the evening, a deep bath settles him much better. And the trug was cheaper than a tummy tub ... although it's getting harder to hold in in the trug because he loves to wriggle and kick and push on the sides, so we may yet end up with a tummy tub. Maybe.)





Another angelic sleepy shot. He's slept like a demon today, catching up I think from the last few days and nights of barely feeding and barely sleeping. Here's hoping it carries on into tonight!

Chaos reigns supreme

Seriously. What a week!

Sick me, sick baby, sick husband, Jack spent last night in hospital (dog vs old, downed and concealed barbed wire fence at the park) and is being sewn up under a general anaesthetic, Jess is miserable without Jack, the cat is pissy she's not allowed in the cot ...

On the bright side, my beauty therapist is visiting later to wax my legs (she is a wonderful, wonderful woman!). I'm happier than a happy thing to be getting socially acceptable non-hairy legs again!!

And, Cuinn has been in his cot for more than 5 minutes so far which means I may even be able to shower. Imagine that!

Thursday 26 February 2009

Yucky milestones

Cuinn is seeing the doctor for the first time today. Poor baby is sick and very miserable. He's got my disease in spades - a heavy cold and vomiting (he projectile vomited straight up in the air while on his change table during the night ... it was like a baby puke fountain). Presumably the vomiting is caused by the mucus, but I was vomiting too so it may be part and parcel with the disease. Either way, it's not nice and I can't lie him down either or he chokes so we're both spending the day on the couch.

Over and out.

Tuesday 24 February 2009

We are not amused

I'm diseased.

And because I'm diseased, I had to forfeit a planned adventure out of the house today.

Therefore, I'm using the teeny scrap of energy I have left to sulk about the extreme dreadfulness and tragedy of it all.

Thank heavens I managed to get diseased during the husband's weekend so he can do most of the baby handling while we both pray that I don't give it to Cuinn. If he's too little for a cot, he's definitely too little to get diseased.

Stupid disease.

(Cuinn's weight today - 4,830 grams)

(P.S. If I find out who exposed me to disease, I'm going to have a bigger tanty than the one Cuinn's throwing right now)

Monday 23 February 2009

Tired of typing dot blogspot?

Well then ... TA DA!! Don't!!

Pal Dave magicked me up a dot com address, so now we can be just eating cake for breakfast dot com! Weee!!

Happy skippy joy! (Happy skippy joy is like happy joy, but extra specially happy joy)

So, less typing for everyone, and I feel very cool.

YEEAHHH!


(Ahhh ... the child is yelling. Good to know his lungs haven't disappeared in the last five minutes ... )

The first of many new stages

Cuinn moved into his cot today (sob). He seems so little in there (!!), we kinda packed him in ... I'm not sure if that was to make him feel better, or us. But I was starting to worry he was going to wriggly right out of his hammock, so at least this way we know he won't be going anywhere.



(And spot the washable nappy! Not only are we being very brave moving him into a cot, we're being extra brave starting on our washable nappies! We were helped along with that somewhat by an enormous grocery bill this week ...)

Friday 20 February 2009

Awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

Yes, the child is asleep and that is awesome, but I wish to discuss something different.

Have I whinged yet, or even recently, about the wee post-birth, post c-section problem I have with clothes? I don't fit my pre-pregancy clothes by an absolute mile, but I can't wear most of my maternity clothes (bottoms) because they sit across my c-section site and my belly is still really sensitive. And forget about hiding the assorted lumps, bumps and rolls which accrued during pregnancy.

Cue much head scratching on how to clothe oneself and stay comfortable.

But, never fear! I, my friends, have found the ultimate pants.

Well, technically, my sister in law Ruth told me about them, I thought they sounded like a sterling idea, ordered some, waited in a state of feverish expectation (whilst celebrating mightily in advance that they only cost me forty bucks!! Exchange rate, postage, pants and all!!) and this morning ... yes, this morning, they arrived!

I was sitting on the couch and just happened to look up and see the postie depositing a lovely plump internationally-travelled looking envelope that could only have been the pants into our mailbox (No, I have not been stalking our postie every morning this week waiting for them to arrive. OK, well ... yes I have, but it's better than watching infomercials. Agreed?).

Of course, as luck would have it, it's hosing down like it hasn't hosed since the last time it hosed down which made it a very soggy journey to the letterbox, but I dashed out anyway and back into the house trying not to trip over the sopping border collie who thought it would be an excellent idea to follow me out into the rain, clutching the dripping cardboard envelope post-marked from Australia between two fingers - hoping that the pants were in some form of protective packaging inside (they were) - then proceeded to rip open the packaging whilst praying that the pants weren't too complicated for me to put together (they weren't). Bearing in mind I have a four week old, when it comes to pants, putting the right leg in the right leg hole these days is a bit of a challenge. Thank heavens the weather has been such that slip on shoes have been the order of the day since Cuinn was born ... the thought of doing up shoelaces is a bit more than I can cope with just now.

Suffice it to say, Teh Pants are awesome!! (!!!)

(Oh, and erm ... even though it goes without saying really ... forgive me carbon footprint for I have sinned ... but it was so worth it and I am so going to do it again!)

Thursday 19 February 2009

Why Cuinn needs to go into a cot about a week ago

We've already undone the hammock completely and he still sticks out the end of it!


A rather bad combination

Sitting in the midst of quiet (!!) with a cup of hot (!!!) tea and the bag of caramello chocolate eggs (!!!!) I discovered in the freezer this morning - placed there, no doubt, by rather large caramello chocolate egg fairy snoring down the hallway. Bless his caramello chocolate egg fairy little socks.

The 'bad' is that, the resultant great joy in having a) a hot cup of tea b) quiet and c) a bit of time to oneself to indulge in a bit of time to oneself has led to d) the caramello chocolate eggs (which are my absolute favourite next to chocolate buttons) being almost gone. Oops.

I did spot, obviously in casual passing and not at all as a result of even a little bit of rifling, that the husband also has a bag of caramello chocolate eggs in his work bag. I wonder if he'd notice if I syphoned some off ...? I need the energy after all, and technically I'm not eating them all myself - I'm sharing with Cuinn. What sort of father would deny his son caramello chocolate eggs??

(Obviously operation make-an-effort-to-fit-back-into-my-pre-pregnancy clothes is going swimmingly ... )

Aaaaand more photos ...
When all else fails and mummy is making you do tummy time which you hate with an undisguised passion (seriously, can you see the scowl?? He is such a ginger), the only thing left to do is lie there unmoving and suck your fist in protest.



How to tell that the kid has filled his nappy on the sly

Wednesday 18 February 2009

In which we have to talk about important stuff (the post that managed to get out while the child was asleep)

It seems insane ... no, scrub that, it is insane ... but unfortunately necessary, for the husband and I to consider and talk about our plans for our family and what we intend vis a vis having another child. The instanity being affirmed as we consider and talk over the top of our newborn, while we're still very much in the "What on earth have we done??" phase of parenting. (Does that go away by the way? Or just evolve from stage to stage? Actually, no. Don't tell me. I don't want to know)

During my labour I provided my husband, my obstetrician and my midwife with a few comedy moments. One of said moments was, up to my eyeballs on pethidine and barely conscious, turning to my obstetrician and saying "I cannot believe I have to start thinking about contraception" (well, I couldn't (still can't), especially at the time, which is what led to my giving voice to said disbelief ... although it's probably one of those many, many times when I should have just thought something and covered it in a more appropriate setting).

Awesome.

My other stellar moment was, hanging over the side of the birthing pool, mid-contraction, yanking the gas thingy out of my mouth and announcing to the room "I really feel like a burger" and them promptly throwing up. Several times. Unfortunately, this wee moment was relatively early on (about 7 hours in) and bless them, they didn't let me forget it for the rest of the fun time that was my trying to give birth. I'm still really embarrassed about that one.

Anyway. I digress and the point is likely to be long winded and somewhat circular so I really should get on with it.

The essence of it all is the seemingly simple question of, what do we do? Except it's not simple. No matter which way you look at it, it's the exact opposite of simple. It's a great puddle of what ifs.

We want to have, and have always planned on having, two children. That's pre-IVF, and post, the intention hasn't changed. The thing is, how do we? And, everything else associated with that.

We have decided that we want Cuinn to be around 2 before we think about having another. Since I've had a c-section, we certainly can't (well, people do, against medical advice, but we're not going to) for a year anyway, and to be honest, Cuinn is 4 weeks old on Friday, essentially a month old, and the thought of starting down this track again in 11 months? Bugger off. We figure around 2 is a good age though - it gives my body time to recover for a start because a year off just does not seem enough after close to 12 months of IVF and pregnancy plus a c-section, but it also means Cuinn is more mobile and a bit more kid than baby, but it doesn't leave, we hope, an enormous age gap (plus it gives us time to forget about newborn chaos. I think forgetting will be important to the bravery required to do all this again).

We even worked out the approximate number of months if we were to get pregnant straight away that it would be between now and a new baby, and broke the obstetrician's fee down into monthly amounts and started saving. Now there is planning my friends. But there is absolutely no way no how I'd do another pregnancy or birth without Paul. In fact, laugh at me if you like, but I'll be making sure that when the time comes I see him for a pre-natal consultation and I'll be doing my damndest to fit in with his schedule.

Right. I did say this would be long winded and circular, did I not?

So, we established that yes, we still intend 2 children, and we think around 2 years before we start down that road.

What road though? IVF, or try for a natural pregnancy?

Because we had Cuinn successfully from our first publicly funded IVF cycle, we're not entitled to any further funding for fresh IVF cycles (replacement of any or all of the embryos we have frozen from the cycle we have done though is still funded though). Ergo, if we tried and failed to fall pregnant naturally, we have the frozen embryos to fall back on (Ew. Ew, ew, EW! I hate how that sounds), but if they failed which they most certainly could, we don't have another funded fresh IVF cycle up our sleeves, and let's face it, 10 thousand plus pingas for a fresh cycle is a whole lot of pingas on a single income (or effectively a single income, depending on what I do vis a vis working down the track).

Then of course, if we tried to fall pregnant naturally, how long do you give it? A year? Two? Three? and then if we turned back to IVF and the frozen embryos all failed leaving us to decide how we felt about a single child, or else fund a fresh IVF cycle? How old would I be then? Old enough that other potential complications will raise their heads, and the chance of success through another IVF cycle takes a dive. But, IVF is harder than a hard thing - emotionally, physically ... wouldn't it be lovely to just not do it? No medical team, no invasive procedures, no fear at every turn before you even have the pregnancy and baby to be fearful over? No physical side effects of IVF causing increased stress to my body during the first part of the pregnancy? Actually, I can't imagine it. It is, either fortunately or unfortunately, all we know.

But, if we did decided to try for a natural pregnancy, what of the embryos we have frozen? What of them? What of the little embryo that could who steamed up from behind to go from looking unviable to being almost at the head of the pack? What of those potential lives? We already know that we won't have them all. It is and will be a horrible decision to make, but potentially, we could be destroying up to 4 embryos. 5, if we became pregnant naturally. We absolutely will not, under any circumstances, donate them - either to another couple or for medical research. Absolutely not. That, at least, is cut and dried.

It goes around, and around, and around. No matter what decision we make too, we will question it. Maybe it would be easier to just throw contraception out the window after the year mark and see what happens (assuming nothing would, which is a spectacularly big and rather dangerous assumption), we could wait and then none of the frozen embryos might take ... do we hedge our bets? Do we not? Do we stay strong on what feels absolutely like the right decision because we're a bit afraid of the gamble? What, what, what?

Ultimately though, it is a decision that makes itself easily despite all of that and it feels absolutely right, all risks in any direction considered. The hard thing was that we had to talk about them, and we did have to consider them, very carefully. It's all very well and good to say yes, that's what we'll do, but you have to make sure you're both on the same page and you've both absolutely considered every angle and feel comfortable with the potential outcome. Or as comfortable as you're going to get because let's face it, if I felt entirely comfortable or it was a simple as sitting down and saying 'What do you think? Right. Sounds good. Let's do that' then obviously this wouldn't be one of the longest blog posts I've ever done.

It comes down to this though - we don't want to become pregnant naturally and create a new embryo/life while we have 5 embryos waiting, all of them viable, all of them day 5 blastocysts. We risk losing them all, yes. We potentially risk a gruelling ... what? Year and a half? ... however long it would take to replace and suffer 5 failures if that was to happen. It's not a pleasant thought, but then, if they were to die, at least they would die inside of me, the conscious decision to destroy wouldn't have to be made, we wouldn't have to sign anything to that effect, cut, dried and cold confirming that yes, we wished to have destroyed the embryos created at the same time as the child snoozing down the hallway who just happened to be the strongest embryo on the day when it came to that first embryo replacement. But, to create new life when there is life existing, to us, is wrong and we can only follow this path.

Ultimately, although we have what ifs up the wazoo, the outcome of our decision will be, in the end, what will be.

(Also, I didn't proof read this which would be the ideal scenario for such a long, windy (that's wiiiindy, as in road, as opposed to windy, as in the baby) post, so any bits that don't make sense ... good luck trying to work out what I was on about)

Stuff from the (newly located) camera - very unflattering kidlet photos

I really have to learn to take non-fuzzy photos. And better angles of the kid too it turns out.

Conked out on his change table ... which may or may not have been a fake-out to get out of nappy change. But, since it's much easier to change a nappy on a non-wriggly baby, that idea didn't pan out for him. If only I could get him to sleep like that in his bed.


Crap.

Why we're a lot sorry that Daddy has gone back to work. He does an excellent getting-the-kid-to-sleep.
See? (Have I posted this before? I have no idea and I'm too lazy to check)
And one random one, although it can probably be filed at a stretch with the kid under the things-we-grew banner - Corn!! From our garden!! It was supposed to be pearl barley, which it most definitely wasn't, but we forgive it on the basis that it tasted divine! Plus, it's so much easier to get the silk off fresh corn we've discovered. Bonus.


Tuesday 17 February 2009

Bliss by any other name

... is having a hot chocolate in the shower.

In the immortal words of either Bill or Ted, I can't remember which (meh - possibly neither) ... righteous, dude!

There is a blog post inside of me trying to get out

Unfortunately, there is also a kid down the hall who seems to have a sixth sense for when I sit down with even a hint of an idea that I might blog.

And then, he yells.

Bless.

I can't even do a cheat post and fill it up with pictures, so you feel like you've had a post, but actually you haven't (like the last few) because I can't find the camera. Handy, that - We have a baby in the house growing quicker than a quick thing (guess what I'm doing this weekend/early next week? Buying cot sheets because he has outgrown his hammock (!! I'm not ready to move him into his own room!! It's too soon!! He's too new!! Actually, I'm not ready to have to go further than reaching out the side of the bed for his night feeds, but it sounds so much more maternal the other way), and 3-6 month sized clothing because his onesies are almost too short. By 'almost' I mean that I've probably only got a couple of days until I feel really guilty about the force I have to use to get the blimming things done up and on him. He's 4 weeks old on Friday. Honestly) and I can't find the camera to chronicle his progress. Excellent. Hopefully the husband knows where it is ... I remember to ask ... and then I remember to take photos.

Latest weigh in today is 4550 grams and we graduate from our midwife visits this week. Our final visit with our OB Paul is only 2 weeks away ... eek. Plus, the husband has gone back to work, so we're not only about to fly solo from supervision but we're actually beginning to settle into life proper.

Huh. I've just realised I've managed actual paragraphs here, which means that a certain baby might just be asleep (or else, I've forgotten to turn the monitor on and/or probably should remove my ear plugs), which also means that I could probably work on the blog post inside of me that really wants to get out. Booya!

Or not.

There's hollering leaking in around the edges of my ear plugs.

Note to self - Get better ear plugs.

Tuesday 10 February 2009

The proof is in the pudding

And what a pudding he is!

Weigh in is tomorrow, but given that ...

- His feet are starting to stick out the end of his hammock

- All but his largest and stretchiest 0-3 month sized clothes are too small

- We're going to be shifting from newborn sized nappies to infant nappies within days

... I'm guessing that he's thriving and is chunking it on.


Monday 9 February 2009

More Dr Jekyll, less Mr Hyde

I know I shouldn't dance around in celebratory circles. I know. But I really can't help myself. Even knowing that said dancing in circles is more than likely going to bite me in the butt tonight doesn't stop me.

I am 99.9% sure that the kidlet doesn't have colic. What he has is the grumps. It was actually quite funny last night just sitting back and observing the behaviour because I swear he was trying to find things to cry about, and if anything more interesting than yelling the house down happened, he'd just stop mid-holler.

I don't know whether it was the gripe water, the Ecostore sleepytime bath concoction, the deep bath (sans dunking this time - yay us!), the stars being perfectly aligned or just absolute dumb luck, but he crashed at 9.30pm! Weeee! We crashed at about 10.15pm because we just didn't believe he'd actually gone to sleep. AND he only woke once in the night. Awesome.

Right. I'm going to go and cry about the bill I got from the anaethetist this morning for my epidural. The fact that it is and was worth every single penny does not stop my eyes from watering, forking out close to $600.00.

Sunday 8 February 2009

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Oh. My. Word.

Come approximately 7-8pm every night, you'd be forgiven for thinking, should you walk past our house, or in the vicinity of our house, or even in a suburb anywhere near our house (ahhh, you probably wouldn't even need to be in a suburb near, and you could be in a car or plane with six sets of ears plugs in and it probably wouldn't be a hindrance either), that we are perhaps trying to murder our child. For around four hours a night.

It's a very pleasant business, but as much as we're happy to know that his lungs work extremely well, the fact that both the husband and I are quickly going deaf is a slight detractor from the joyful celebrations.

The dogs are somewhat bemused by the incredible noise that this newest and littlest and funniest looking puppy produces come night time, and sit there no doubt wondering why no one puts him in a kennel outside when he won't stop barking.

The cat I think expressed herself spectacularly this morning by projectile vomiting all through his room. Very disgusting. And oddly coloured. Although, I've never seen kitty projectile vomit before, so I was a tad curious as well I have to admit.

We can't decide if it's colic or just end of day grumps with a bit of redheaded temper thrown in for good measure, but whatever it is, it's a baptism of fire. The midwife, bless her a thousand times, last night suggested a deep bath so we filled up a bucket and popped him in that which he appeared to love - of course he probably could have done with a bucket that was a tighter fit because he was a bit difficult for the husband to keep a grip on, wiggly as he is and there was a wee face plant incident which involved a bit of spluttering, much blinking along the lines of 'what the hell was that?' and an almighty glare for good measure. The husband has also just gone for a dash for gripe water in the first instance - it's what our midwife suggested and therefore what I'm inclined to try first on the basis that I sought her advice and that's what she gave me and I don't get to complain if I don't follow it. We're also armed with a small list of other accessible remedies suggested by friends and family to try on the back of that if gripe water doesn't work. Here's hoping it does though. The husband has also been instructed to get fortifying iced animal biscuits for moi. I also keep returning to a page in a parenting book I have which recommends a slug of booze in difficult situations to relax oneself. Love it!

It really is one of life's little ironies that this parenting business should absolutely not be for beginners, and yet, the first time, it always is. And actually, in reality, it really is every other time too (should you care to repeat the experience) because every child is unique with unique needs and personalities and therefore, more than likely, what you learned on the first one you probably need to adapt.

And quietly, I'm continuing to work on my request list for Fertility Plus should the husband and I go the rest of the way to barmy and decide to have another - so far I want half an embryo replaced, no more gingers (the temper thing) and reduced lung capacity. Probably smaller feet too. They should be able to swing it, I'm sure. They seem quite clever over there, and it's hardly a big ask.

Wednesday 4 February 2009

In which the husband gets ink

Before


After

(It's an excellent incentive to make sure we keep it to 2 kids max. He's only got 2 legs, and we aint using any of mine if there's an accident!)

Monday 2 February 2009

The newborn shock

Woah baby!

I'd love to elaborate, but suffice it to say ... brain no go worser than when pregnant.

Lardo has, in 10 days, lost weight post-birth and already come back up and over his birth weight again - he's put on 180 grams in 3 days! The midwife is very happy with the wee piglet. No wonder I ate an entire lolly log over the weekend ... a girl needs her strength! The kidlet is most definitely going to take after his father on the size front (next time (yes, I know ... next time ... I cannot believe the husband and I have had discussions about next time) I'm going to see if they can just put half an embryo back). He also, disturbingly, pulls the same blardy facial expressions too ... I say 'disturbingly' because, unfortunately, the husband has a selection of looks he gives me under certain circumstances that pee me off to the core, and they're the same ones the kid is pulling. Ack.

Anyway, in lieu of intelligent (?) blogging, I have more pictures. You know you want to see them ... and if not ... well, stiff biscuits - my blog, my kid, my indulgence, yada yada yada (in the nicest possible way of course).

Oh ... and while I'm here ... for all those people asking what they can bring us ...? Thank you heaps and heaps and heaps! I'm all good for boob cream and breast pads and meals and housework, but if someone could go to Widdess on Ponsonby Road and pick up the black t-shirt with the blue peacock on the front that they had on sale ......? That'd be awesome. Size 12, I'd say ... (Heh) (What? Anything is worth a try once. Or twice.)

Bollocks. Muffles from the lounge are getting louder. Antenatal classes lied when they said newborn kidlets sleep for 16-18 hours a day. Blatantly lied. Very uncool.

OK. Pictures ... quick! (Thank heavens I managed to get a Nature Baby order through earlier - yay for online shopping)

Over and out! (Oh, and if the formatting is up the shite, I'll fix it later. Or not.)

See Uncle Dave? Hammock! Hammocks rock. Especially when dogs shove their heads in them for a sniff while kidlets are sleeping.

Looks angelic, doesn't he? Heh.

Happy tummy time. For about two and a half minutes.