Our Birth Story

OK, so here is Our Birth Story. Just so you know, it is still deeply personal - even though I'm sharing it with the entire world. Another paradox of life, I guess. Just please respect it and don't say anything horrible. Or maybe just don't say anything at all. Unless it's something lovely. That I can handle. Here goes nothing...

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Two and a half months preggie on the Sunshine Coast with my Aunty and Uncle.

I think it's about time we share our birth story with y'all. It's not that I haven't wanted to share it. I just think it's taken me the full six months to recover my powers of speech! Kidding, kidding. Giving birth was the most precious thing we've ever experienced, second only to salvation (which is a birth anyway). I don't tend to speak about things that effect me so deeply but birth is so miracolous, so profound, so joyful that it refuses to be secreted away.

Now I promised that this would be a birth story but I'm going to start with something that happened when I first got married that really set the stage. I was all set to wait two years to have a baby. What's the rush after all? We're going to travel, see the world, make a few millions, print our names in neon lights and have the time of our lives. Right? Right! Of course right. What else is a young newly married couple to do? Except that the Lord had other plans. Shortly after we got married I had a health problem and needed to see doctors and specialists, nothing new there. As I was leaving my specialists office one day she told me off-handedly that we needed to do tests "because," she said, "you may never be able to fall pregnant".

There are some moments in life when the whole world stops. This was one of them. I still remember standing in her office, hand on the doorknob and turning back to look at her nonchalant face. What had she just said? I may never be able to fall pregnant? I had wondered how hearing such news would make me feel and I thought I knew. I thought I would be upset, disappointed. I was so wrong. It's not a feeling that can be imagined. Like love, it has to be felt to be realised. I felt broken. Not only broken in my heart but broken as a woman. How could I tell my new husband? He had married me not knowing that I was defective, possibly never able to give him a child. I was less than whole. There began an ache in my womb for the child that I might never carry. It was a very real ache, one that haunted me when I woke late at night or when I sat and thought for too long. Everything changed. As I looked back at that Doctor I noticed that in that split second that the world had stopped it had rearranged itself. Two years of fun freedom with my husband was no longer my pinnacle of greatness. I wanted more than anything to have a baby. Funnily enough the sorrow was not stronger for me, but for Chris. If my body was as broken as this Doctor thought it could be it would be normal for me not to have a child. But to take that away from the man that I loved? No! I couldn't! And yet he had already vowed himself to me. I felt such shame as I walked down the flight of stairs and out to my waiting husband. That was how it felt. Shameful and half-human.

When I told Chris he was as calm as could be. He told me that it didn't matter, he hadn't married me for children – he had married me for me. It sounds good on paper but it just made things worse. I wanted him to cry and hold me and let me cry and we could all be very sad together. Instead his calm made me feel like I couldn't share my disappointment. Instead it became something that gnawed tirelessly at my mind.

But our God is a God of miracles, a God of wonders, a God who delights in proving Himself stronger than all the Doctors! I fell pregnant in May, a short six months after the Specialist had broken my heart.

I suspected I was pregnant when I was only about two weeks along. I felt different, like I wasn't alone and like I was suddenly more beautiful than anything around me. One morning, about three and a half weeks along, I put on a white flowery blouse and pearl earrings. I was washing my hands in the bathroom basin when I looked up into the mirror and I thought, “That lady is pregnant.” Three seconds later I thought, “Wait a second... that lady is me!” I could already see the difference in my face. I remember smiling at myself and putting my hand on my belly. I had a very precious secret.

At the time I was working at a petrol station in the middle of nowhere. Before going to work one day I drove into town and brought a pregnancy test. A double one. I wanted to see the lines twice just to be sure! The next morning, early in the day when the hormones are stronger, I took the test. How I managed to wait that long I have no idea, I was so excited! I remember watching that stick barely able to breathe, and then it appeared – a faint blue line! I gasped! I was flooded with emotion, I was so happy, so scared, so exhuberant! I went back into bed, snuggled up to my husband and thought, “What have we done?”

Chris had always said that when I fell pregnant I was to throw him a beautiful candlelit dinner. And I had to wait a few months so he didn't have to count down the full nine. So I kept my secret to myself. Until that night.

That night I was working late at the garage. All evening I had felt pain in my lower abdomen. I wondered if it was normal, but by the time I closed up at ten thirty I was doubled over with searing pains and I knew something wasn't quite right. I drove straight to the hospital and was escorted immediately to a bed. That night was one of the scariest nights I've ever lived through. An iranian man and a young nurse asked questions, gave me paperwork to complete and then examined me so painfully I can still feel it. They did urine pregnancy tests and fussed over at the table, then the Doctor returned to the bed and said, “Sweetheart, you are not pregnant.” Shocked? An understatement. I knew in my heart of hearts that I was carrying. “Yes I am.” I told him firmly. “No, you're not” and the look in his eyes said 'poor delusional girl'. I insisted enough that he resigned himself to having to confirm his diagnosis with a blood test which I would hear about in the next 24 hours. “If you are pregnant,” he told me. (And I'm thinking, 'see now, I was right') “then I fear it is an ectopic pregnancy. The baby will not survive and you may not either, so you need to urgently get an ultrasound done.” WHAT?! Here I am in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, half an hour down a dusty Queensland road from my farm home and he tells me IF I am pregnant then my baby is going to die. “But,” he said reassuringly, “You are not pregnant. If you were I would keep you here for the safety of your child. So you may go home and take some panadol.”

I drove home at a speed that I will not mention on the internet for fear of being tracked down by the Highway Patrol. It was only the Lord protecting me that night. There are no streetlights on that old country road, only mining trucks and kangaroos that like to total vehicles. I just wanted to be home, to be reassured by my husband that everything was OK. By this time I was distraught at the thought that I had been wrong about being pregnant, that there was no baby. But at the back of my mind was this instinct that could not be silenced.

To be continued...

Chris' Birthday

The happiest part of Chris' happy birthday - I nailed crepes. And I mean nailed. Anyone who knows Chris knows that he loves crepes. But unfortunately his love is an educated love. He knows what is and what isn't a good crepe. He likes his crepes wafer thin, the perfect balance of sweet and salty, evenly sized, and warm on the plate. I have NEVER been able to cook a crepe that came out of the frying pan whole, let alone having the taste right. He had his heart set on having crepes for his birthday breakfast and I just couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him. I thought I was doomed. But this time I used a recipe from www.smittenkitchen.com which required the milk to be heated to steaming and the butter fried hazelnut brown before being mixed into the batter. Using her recipe I made not one crepe but an entire stack. She is my new hero!

Chris' birthday present this year didn't come wrapped with a bow. Instead, it was rather unusal. I got him a babysitter. And that babysitter had Manny while we went out alone for dinner. Alone for the first time in six (well, 18) months.

I thought Chris may not like the idea of having someone else watch Manny but when I told him his eyebrows shot up and he looked at me stunned as though to say, "What. Wait. YOU are willing to get a babysitter?!" ... I took that as a challenge, an insult and a wake up call. That evening Manny went to Justine's house and we went to The White Swan Restaurant in Penrith.

We had bruschetta entrees, our mains were an eye fillet steak with vegetables and ju and a stuffed chicken breast in a creamy bacon and garlic sauce. Then they suprised Chris with a scrummy Happy Birthday Mud Cake for dessert :-) The food was all absolutely delicious and my hubby really enjoyed himself. It's amazing how much fun it was just to talk without being interuppted. And the hubby that wasn't so keen on a regular date night suddenly told me that we would be doing this more often. That's fine by me!

Cuteness

Happiness Is A Toast Soldier

I gave Manny his first toast soldier today. I know it was naughty and a little bit early but what could I do? It was either the toast or my soft boiled egg. He looooved it! He sorta chomped a little but doesn't know how to chew really, so mainly he just licked the Marg off :-)

Just as a totally random aside, is there anything tastier for brekki than a soft boiled egg? There's something delightful about a warm, runny yolk, lashings of butter on hot toast and a rich milo. I think the best part about a soft boiled egg is that it has to be cooked perfectly. Too long and it's nothing but a tragic ball of overcookedness. Too short and it's just gross. Then it has to be eaten piping hot to be any good. So maybe it's the rarity of all the stars alighning that makes soft boiled eggs so wonderful. Quite possibly so.

The TV Cabinet to Babydrobe Project

 

Chris found this cabinet at a council clean up (When everyone sticks their unwanted items on the curb and the council trucks, or passersby, remove all the stuff. I know more than one person who has completely furnished their house by driving down the rich suburbs on council clean up day). Actually, he found two. The other one was a beautiful, beautiful cabinet made from dark stained and polished timber that I absolutely loved. He offered the one pictured above to a young married couple but the young man said that their T.V was too big for it, so could he have the nice one (!!!). Being a giving, generous man my husband said yes. So I took all my stuff out of the lovely cupboards and the perfect little shelves and scrambled to find other spots for them. I was sore about it for days, lol, and even had to tape a Bible verse to the top of it while I was waiting for them to come and pick it up (you guessed it: "In honour prefering one another.").

So I was left with this chunk of timber, and it sat around uselessly in my bedroom for months. We don't even own a TV to put in it! So - I decided to convert it into something useful. It really bugged me that there was a big "tv hole" where there could have been extra shelving. I'd already taken to it with a hammer by the time I took this photo. There were two deep shelves in the left section, so deep that they were hopeless. There was a glass pane in the door that smashed. It had no handles, as you can see. And the top shelf on the right side came to the front of the giant hole area and made looking for anything incredibly difficult. In short, it was the ugliest, most useless thing I'd ever had to put up with. At least, I have to say so to paint the most dire picture possible, so you'll appreciate the transformation even more ;-)

Behold, the new beautiful creation:

Isn't that something? It's amazing what a bit of paint can do. In between the first and second coats of blue I tried distressing it, and then tried glazing it, and found that those looks were a little too old for something as sweet as a Babydrobe (Is that even a word? Oh well, it is now!) so I just went with good old plain paint.

The left side, with the door, now has two rails to hang clothes (thanks to Chris' amazing building skills!). On the right side we have a shelf for the baby changing mats, another shelf for little baby bits and pieces and a bucket of essentials (like bonjela, panadol, massage oil, powders, moisturisers, sorbene...what a spoilt kid!). Under the new little blue shelf (yay - no more gaping hole!) is a pull-out basket for extra blankets. The big wooden tub is the new toy box. And best of all - those cutsie doors hide the baby bath. That ridiculously cumbersome essential that never had a home and always ended up in random places - under my feet, on top of the wardrobe, out the back deck, under my feet, in the crib (!), under my feet... Of course the little bath mat, the bath lazy chair, the bubble bath, the rubber ducky, etc all live quietly behind those cutsie little doors too.Who would have known that babies come with so many accessories (Each sold seperately... lol. It's late.)

I just love it! I don't think I've ever been so satisfied with a project before. Since we are quite restricted with space it is a major blessing to have one place where all Manny's stuff can be found.

Poor Chris is always befuddled as to where I keep Manny's things (possibly because I constantly change things around) so I printed up little tags to show where everything goes. I added some quotes that I thought were cute, to keep me smiling just in case one day I get short tempered as I reach for the umpteenth bib (me? short tempered? I know - never!).

My favourite part, other than the colour (which took me two Bunnings visits, a refurbishing class, and a gazzillion colour swatches to choose) are the teddy bear door handles. How cute are they! Itsie bitsie little bears with bows around their necks! Teeheehee! Having a baby is the greatest :-)

So...want to know the grand total for this project? I paid $7 for a 500ml test pot of Brittish Paints in Cool Store, and $5 for each of the door handles. I used Dulux Off-White Wall Paint that Chris had left over from a job for the inside. The new shelf was recycled timber from the shelves I had smashed out. The clothes hanging rails were from a wardrobe that a friend was dumping. So a grand total of $22 for a beautiful 'new' Babydrobe! Not bad, I reckon. 

Random Top Tip of the Day. If you want to fix up a small project and .5L of paint would be enough, Brittish Paints do a large test pot for $7. AND if you find a colour that you like in the Dulux or Taubman paint swatches you can have it made up in Brittish Paints and it will still only cost you $7. HA! And the Bunnings man was trying to sell me a $54.00 pot of paint!

Just Showing Off My Incredibly Talented Baby!

Ok, there are some times when I post pictures because I know you all want to see how Manny is doing (of course you do! at least, you better!), and other times because I think a photo is cutsie. Well, today I'm posting this photo purely to show off. Oh yeah! How strong and clever and wonderful is my baby!

Now, it could very well be perfectly normal for six month old bubbas to stand up and hold onto things by themselves, I'm not sure. But it was the first time for my bubba and I just think he's insanely clever! Teehee! What did I tell you, purely showing off :-)

And last night, after his feed, he went to sit up like he normally does to indicate he's full. Except this time he tucked his little chin in, folded his hands across his belly, and did a sit up. Such a sit up that before I knew it he was sitting bolt upright and looking like he'd done it all his life. What a kid! :-D

P.S Remember that if you ever want to make a photo bigger (and who wouldn't want to with such a handsome young man as the subject? anyways...) just click on the picture and it will show up nice and large.

We Have A Tooth!

Last week Manny popped through his first little pearly white tooth! He went to bed with a mouth full of gums and woke with a wee snip to his bite :-) Not a cry, not a peep. What a wonderful blessing my first baby is! "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up." I'm sure that God has blessed me so much because He knows I am away from my family and don't know how to cope with problems!

And because Manny is such a little darling I don't mind spending time on crafting for him. Here are the bibs that I made him recently:

They were alot easier than I thought they would be so I had alot of fun with different designs. You can't really see it from the photos but the one on the top left has quilting on the blue part, and two of the five were done with a pre-quilted waterproof backing. The only thing I purchased for these was a fat quarter in the blue polka dot fabric, so that would have been about $4-$5 I think as they were on sale. I reckon that's pretty good for five bibs, since a nice cotton bib here costs about $15. Oh the joys of being resourceful :-D