Healing Constipation in Children + Bliss Ball recipe

Constipation is quite common in children. Up to 28% of children experience constipation at some stage.

If the staining and difficulty with passing bowel movements continues past two weeks and causes considerable stress to the child please seek help from a medical professional.

In the meantime try these simple remedies to see if you can get things moving along.

Bulk laxatives are ideal for treating childhood constipation. Linseeds, slippery elm, psyllium and chia seeds attract and hold onto water, moistening and adding bulk to the stool for easy elimination.

Linseeds and slippery elm are gentler and are better suited for younger children

Slippery Elm dosages

Slippery elm is to be stirred into water or you can use juice to make the remedy more appetising for the child

In children

infants: 1/4 tsp in breastmilk or formula up to three times per day

10 - 20kg 1/2 tsp three times per day with meals

20 - 40kg 3/4 tsp three times per day with meals

40 kg + 1 tsp three times per day with meals

Psyllium is more abrasive and not recommend for smaller children. in older children it an be dosed similarly to slippery elm above.

Chia or flaxseed can be added sprinkled on breakfast cereal, stirred into yoghurt or added to smoothies.

Prunes and Figs are wonderful natural laxatives. Be sure to include them in the diet.

Eat: lots of high fibre food such as fresh fruits, raw green leafy vegetables, whole grain oatmeal and brown rice. Asparagus, mussels sprouts, cabbage, carrots, garlic, kale, okra, peas sweet potatoes and whole grains.

Include foods that contain high levels of soluble fibre such as adzuki beans, barley, dried beans, oats, and some fruits especially apples, apricots, bananas, blackberries, blueberries, cranberries, figs.

Eat Insoluble fibre: Fruit and vegetable peel is a excellent source of insoluble fibre as are grapes,peaches and prunes. Other insoluble fibre foods include cereals, seeds, wheatbran, and wholegrains.

Drink more water: Children ages 1- 3 need 1.3 litres - about 5 glasses of water a day. Older children should be drinking more.

Consume foods high in pectin: apples, carrots, beets, bananas, cabbage, citrus fruits, dried peas.

Minimise soft drinks,meat, white flour, highly processed foods, salt and sugar These things typically have little fibre and stagnate. + Nutritional healing Phyllis A Balch

Lets Get Moving Bliss Balls.

There is no easy or appealing way to use the words ‘constipation’ or ‘balls’ in the same sentence. However these energy snacks are intended to appeal to your child and help their bowel motions along. They also packed with minerals have some extra goodness for brain health with the hemp and walnuts.

Of course they work for adults too.

To make a nut free version swap out the walnuts for pepitas or more sunflower seeds and swap out the almonds for another 1/2 cup of hemp seeds.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup walnuts, chopped

2/3 cup sunflower seeds, chopped

1/2 cup almonds, chopped

1/2 cup hemp seeds

1/2 cup porridge oats

2/3 cup chopped dried apricots or try other dried fruit*

2/3 cup of figs

1/3 cup dates

2/3 cup chopped pitted prunes

2 tablespoons chia seeds

2 tablespoons cacao powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons honey

1 cup (90g) desiccated coconut for rolling the balls at the end

Add all ingredients except the coconut to a food processor and process until there are no large pieces and the mixture is sticking together nicely.

Scoop the mixture out with a teaspoon and roll into balls. Coat in the desiccated coconut by tipping the coconut onto a plate and rolling the balls in it.

these should ideally be consumed with a big glass of water.

*Ideally you would use sulphite free/and organic dried fruit with no added vegetable oils. The sulphites are a preservative also found in wine. They stop the dried fruit from going brown. Dark raisins or prunes don’t usually have sulphites, nor do dates. Sulphites commonly irritate little bellies. The vegetable oils are added to stop the fruit from sticking together, however they can become rancid and are an unnecessary and inflammatory addition to your child’s diet. Check your local health food store to see what’s available.

If the best you can do is the regular supermarket variety of dried fruit, and your child doesn’t seem to react to dried fruit usually then please go ahead with what you have available.

Do you have fever phobia?

If you child has a temperature and you'd like guidance click here

All parents can relate to the primal fear felt upon discovering a small child has a fever. Your heart drops and there’s lead in your belly. Fevers are frightening for all parents. Your child is ill and it’s terrifying

Fever may be indicative of a sinister illness, and especially in a young baby needs a medical diagnosis by a doctor. All babies under 3 months old with fever need to see a doctor for a professional diagnosis.

Most likely though, the fever is not sinister, and after the infection has run it’s course, maybe a day or two later, all will be well again.

It’s very common to treat fever with paracetamol or ibuprofen. However fever is your bodies way of fighting off infection. A higher body temperature activates immune cells and provides an inhospitable environment for invading pathogens. Treating your child’s fever may prolong the infection and even lead to chronic and recurring symptoms.

The majority of feverish illnesses do not present a serious threat however treating all fevers with paracetamol may be aborting important natural healing processes.

Modern studies are correlating paracetamol use with high incidences of chronic sinus problems, phlegm,  swollen glands, ear infection and allergic eczema, especially in children.

Could the use of paracetamol to bring down fever result in infections that don’t clear up completely leading to ongoing problems?

Evie was about three or four weeks old when she had her first fever. I think just on 38 deg C was as bad as it got, so it was only slight, but enough that I was highly concerned. We went off to the doctor. Andy came with me. I believed the fever was fighting the infection, my husband was unsure and concerned. I asked the GP  if we should let the fever to fight the illness rather then give panadol to bring the fever down. He told me that it’s better to make the child comfortable and not proven that giving panadol prolongs the illness.

His comment was misleading.

There’s plenty of data  that indicates fever is beneficial for illness. 

I understand the popularity of panadol. Giving panadol makes you feel like you’re doing something.

It’s such a relief to see the temp come back down again. It makes you feel like they’re getting better. That the nightmare is over. But it’s not true, it’s an illusion. The panadol was making everyone feel better, but it wasn’t fixing the illness. It was a bandaid.

My 10 month old son woke up with his second fever  in the space of a week .The Tuesday before he’s had an overnight fever that seemed to be ok in the morning. Some slight gastro issues but otherwise good.

Now it was Sunday morning and his temp was up at 39.5 again. He was miserable. As is the advice if your child is miserable give panadol I gave him some panadol. Every 4 - 6 hours thereafter his temp would shoot back up. My husband and I were, of course, concerned.

Although he wasn’t always miserable we continued to give panadol. Under the pain relief John John would charge around the floor playing, cooing and exploring like he was invincible. Like he wasn’t sick. Then the panadol would ware off and his fever would climb back up again. He needed rest, rest he wasn’t getting under the influence of the paracetamol. After 24 hours I decided to let the fever run. He wasn’t getting better, we needed to try something else.

I sat there with him in my arms, he was breastfeeding, uncomfortable but coping. Lying still. He was healing.  I was checking his temp every minute or so. 39.5  39.7 39.4 My husband couldn’t bare it however and fearful that the fever itself was somehow damaging insisted on another dose of panadol. And so on. Andy was ringing around talking to family members. They were all deadset that the fever MUST COME DOWN. They had fever phobia.

"Fever phobia is the name given by medical experts to parents' misconceptions about fever in their children. Among them, many parents incorrectly believe that fever is a disease rather than a medical sign, that even low fevers are harmful, and that any temperature even briefly or slightly above the oversimplified "normal" number marked on a thermometer is a clinically significant fever (1). They are also afraid of harmless side effects like febrile convulsions and dramatically overestimate the likelihood of permanent damage from typical fevers.

The underlying problem, according to professor of pediatrics Barton D. Schmitt, is "as parents we tend to suspect that our children’s brains may melt.”

Febrile convulsions are fits that occur in about 1 in 30 children with a high temp. In nearly all cases these convulsions aren’t damaging and have no long-term effects. The convulsions are usually over within two minutes. If the fits continue for over five minutes there is some cause for concern. A child’s temperature needs to reach 42 before the heat becomes damaging.

Here are some of the findings indicating fever is beneficial for illness.

The higher the temp on admittance to hospital with bacterial infection the lower the death rate.

This indicates that by bringing the temperature down the immune system is compromised in doing it’s job.

And this further information explained by Dr Paul Young, fever researcher

Treating a Fever

• increases death rates from infections in animals

• worsens nasal symptoms in children with colds

• prolongs blisters in children with chickenpox

• blunts the immune response triggered in children in response to vaccinations.”

Most feverish illnesses are not dangerous however it's common to treat all fever with paracetamol. 

By bringing down the fever we could be halting our natural healing processes.

Modern studies are correlating paracetamol use with high incidences of chronic sinus problems, phlegm,  swollen glands, ear infection and allergic eczema, especially in children.

Could the use of paracetamol to bring down fever result in infections that don’t clear up 100% and lead to these long-term problems?

By letting the fever run it’s course you’re giving the immune system the best chance at a quick resolution.

What to do when your child has a temperature?

First of all we need to rule out a dangerous infection such as Meningitis or Pneumonia. See a doctor and get a diagnosis. All children under 3 months old must see a doctor if they have a fever. - Anything above 37.3.

After a medical diagnosis has ruled out a serious infection the fever can be managed or even nurtured.

For the fever itself to do any damage the childs temperature needs to reach 42 deg celsius. This is very rare.

Some background info:

At the beginning of a fever blood is directed away from peripheral organs and to the centre of the body and muscles begin to shiver in order to raise heat. The patient feels cold and seeks out warmth, further enabling the fever to rise.

When the temperature is rising the patient feels cold

When the body temp rises to a new level of stability, the symptoms of chill lesson. The circulation to the periphery opens up, the patient begins to sweat, clothing and coverings are thrown off. The patient feels hot as the temperature falls

The fever has broken

In a baby under 6 months old plenty of breastfeeding and cuddles are all they need.

For older children.

Bedrest. Cuddles. nurturing.

Plenty of fluids.

A diaphoretic tea may help the child feel more comfortable once the fever has broken.

Any or all of these herbs can be prepared into a tea at home

Peppermint leaves

Elder flower

Yarrow

Chamomile

For a baby a tsp of each in a tea strainer and pour hot water over the top into a cup. Allow to cool and then allow the child to sip. For an older child the tea can be steeped for a bit longer.

The peppermint and chamomile can be found in the supermarket. Elderflower and Yarrow can be sourced from a dried herb supplier.

Theres one in the Fremantle markets.

Just use peppermint and chamomile if the yarrow and elderflower are unavailable.

Create and infuse with healing intention.

For John John I made a weak tea of peppermint by pouring hot water through a tea strainer filled with peppermint leaves. He seemed to like it.

Another Consideration: Raising a Fever 

 It may be beneficial to help the body raise a fever to fight off infection. So in the onset of illness, certain heat raising immune stimulating herbs may be called for to aid in recovery. Ginger, garlic and cinnamon, a tsp of each stirred into a tea and allowed to sit for 5 or 10 minutes, and then sipped by the patient.

Prepare them by popping them into bed, a minimal fresh diet and plenty of fluids.

Helpful Links and Resources:

http://www.health.vic.gov.au/edfactsheets/downloads/fever-in-children.pdf

http://www.abc.net.au/health/talkinghealth/factbuster/stories/2012/07/31/3557498.htm

Crocetti M, Moghbeli N, Serwint J; Moghbeli; Serwint (June 2001). "Fever phobia revisited: have parental misconceptions about fever changed in 20 years?". Pediatrics. 107 (6): 1241–6. doi:10.1542/peds.107.6.1241. PMID 11389237.

Klass, Perri (10 January 2011). "Lifting a Veil of Fear to See a Few Benefits of Fever". The New York Times. Archived from the original on 29 September 2015.

http://www.health.vic.gov.au/edfactsheets/downloads/fever-in-children.pdf

A love/non-love relationship with tandem feeding...okay mostly non-love

I fell into tandem feeding by accident. Gorgeous little John John, now 3 months old took us by surprise when those two little lines appeared on the pregnancy test. Evie was only 10 months at the time.  

My doctor, my mother, and pretty much everyone else told me to wean. I took their advice on board and fully intended on weaning at least 3 months before the due date. I hadn’t heard of tandem feeding a toddler and a newborn, had never even considered that would be a thing. But there I was with a baby and pregnant with another. I certainly wasn’t ready to stop breastfeeding yet. It seemed unfair to force Evie to wean due to unplanned circumstances. I went searching for nutritional information for pregnancy and breastfeeding concurrently and found none. What I did find was an article about tandem feeding and it seemed to be encouraged. I was relieved. I felt like I had options.

The months passed, Evie never indicated she was ready to give up breastfeeding just yet. Breastfeeding was her downtime, her comfort, her relaxation at the end of a long day. It was quiet time bonding with mummy. Breastfeeding was cuddly and close. We both loved it.

 As the pregnancy progressed my milk supply dwindled. Evie’s interest in feeding gradually declined accordingly. She still enjoyed a feed to get off to sleep, or whenever she was feeling discomfort, or just felt like a snuggle. We got to the stage where Evie didn’t seem to mind if she fed or not. Some nights she’d go off to sleep without feeding at all.

But then at 36 weeks my colostrum was in and Evie, now 18 months, suddenly became booby obsessed. She loved it. The due date got closer and I didn’t mind the breastfeeding so much, I thought it would help bring on labour. I realised it was now too late to wean her. Even if I did wean as soon as she saw her little brother feeding she’d want in.

Evie didn’t come meet John John until he was two days old. I’d been missing her terribly. When she saw me sitting to feed her little brother of course she wanted some too. She hopped up on my knee and grabbed my spare breast. It was a juggle and awkward to feed them both, but we managed. We have some gorgeous photos of the moment.

My earliest memory is of my mother breastfeeding my sister, 20 months younger than me. I wanted some too, but Mum refused. I told myself before John John was born that I wouldn’t do that to my daughter. Unfortunately by the time I’d been home 24 hours I’d rejected Evie’s requests for breastfeeding more times than I could count.

Once home the reality of feeding two children of different ages set in. I was producing milk for a newborn. Yummy fatty deliciously sweet milk and Evie loved it. She wanted boobies all the time. More than was necessary or practical. Sometimes I’ve been sitting down for a long time feeding John John. Sometimes he’s asleep in his bassinet and I can finally do a bit of housework or whatever in the few minutes until he wakes up. Sometimes she just doesn’t need it, and I want some space.  And so the tantrums begin.

Tandem feeding is much harder than I expected, and much harder than any breastfeeding support information page or online mother’s forum let on too. I was managing the newborn, who was as floppy and helpless as a rag doll, trying to balance him one arm, as he learned how to latch properly, and managing my now giant looking toddler Evie on the other arm. She was curious of her brother and had trouble keeping her hands to herself, not yet old enough to understand that she might be hurting the baby, or introducing germs with her poking and prodding. When I put her down after she’d had way over and above what a normal feed was for her to focus on the newborn she screamed the house down, looking at me from the floor with tears in her eyes and shaking her head.. It was a nightmare. I felt tremendous guilt for having another child, and loss that my ‘just us two’ relationship with my daughter had been interrupted.

If only she would eat some food… Food has been given the flick for breastmilk. I’ve been trying to offer foods she likes, and restricting breastfeeding until she’s had a decent meal. She usually doesn’t manage more than a couple of bites. After 7 weeks I was starting worry. I don’t want to deplete her nutritionally. My sore muscles and achy teeth told me the breastfeeding was depleting me. I up my supplement intake. My symptoms improve.

I love breastfeeding my toddler when it’s just us two. We snuggle together and have a little chat and a giggle about our day, eventually she’s had her fill or goes off to sleep.

There’s times when both children are screaming, I sit on the couch, or lie on my bed, give them a boob each and then there’s silence. Sweet wonderful silence for 5 - 10 minutes. I can even hold my phone in my hand and entertain myself during these quiet feeding moments.

My favourite tandem feeding moments though, are when baby John John loses the nipple, and Evie reaches over and guides it back into his mouth for him. It’s the sweetest thing, a sister helping a brother out.  And when John John catches sight of Evie across the other side of my chest and gives her a big gorgeous smile it melts my heart.

Realistically I see no easy way out of tandem feeding in the near future. Sure I can hardline it and cut her off, but she’ll be reminded of the goodness of breastfeeding every time little John John cries out for a meal. It’d be like taking away a smoker’s cigarettes and then lighting up in front of them 8 times a day. But “No - you can’t have any.”

My instinct is that breastfeeding serves her emotional wellbeing. The times when I tell Evie no to boobies she becomes incredibly enraged. I can actually use my boobs as a bribing tool. “Do this for me and you can have some boobies” not that I want to bribe her, but you know, desperate times call for desperate measures.

So I’m feeling stuck with this, waiting for a green light to tuck my boob away for the last time ... as far as the toddlers concerned anyway. I’ve been waiting for this light for about six months now and it’s just not coming. It’s now clear it would have been much easier to wean when my milk supply naturally dropped off during pregnancy…at around 14 or 15 months old. She would have missed it for a few days and then it would all be forgotten about. Now she’s tasted the sweet nectar that is newborn mummy booby goodness, she’s not giving it up in a hurry. It must be like ice-cream, all sweet and fatty.

A new resolve to start a loving-kindness weaning process was shot down a couple of weeks ago by what I initially thought was severe teething with lots of clinginess and boobies required. It soon became apparent it was actually hand, foot and mouth disease making her so miserable. Everything she put in her mouth was hurting and her response was to eat nothing. On day 5 of no food whatsoever breastfeeding had become a true hero, offering not only nutrition, hydration and comfort but an immune boost as well. I was grateful I have such good breastmilk to help her through that week of horrors.

Her health is now restored however and I don’t feel tandem feeding is sustainable. A 21-month old toddler surviving primarily off my breast milk is not healthy for either of us.  I could be waiting months or even a couple of years for her to self-wean.  And so I tentatively embark on a weaning journey. I anticipate lots of struggle, lots of resistance. Many a time when the small baby will be woken and disturbed and resented by a toddler screaming for boobies. It’s going to suck and perhaps be one of the greatest battles of will I’ve ever known. We’ll get there in the end.

Mummy Pep Talk: Be the Hunter, not the Hunted

The Sunday before last: John John was a week home from the hospital. Home life had been resembling somewhat of a shit storm (sibling rivalry was large). It was midday and both the children slept, and I took the opportunity to contemplate the new moon that was two days prior. I went outside and managed to arrange an impromptu altar with a rose quartz crystal, a candle, oracle cards and some closed eyes. It was heaven.  

I pulled a card: Be The Hunter Not the Hunted (Sacred Rebels Oracle, Alana Fairchild)

The crux of the message: Don’t let the needs of others get in the way of your own journey and self-care. This message was so relevant, so needed at that time, so needed EVERY DAY as a mother. When Evie was born I lost myself for months, understandably. She was so new, I was anxious. I didn’t even use a day planner or make any to do lists for half a year. Her priorities and needs were number one of course, the rest of the world, including me could wait. That was my choice.

With John John things are much quieter. I’m taking the new baby in my stride. My to do’s are getting done. My day planner utilised. I’ve got this. I’m inspired.

I see opportunity to create and contribute. Self-expression and indulgence seem possible whereas with Evie it was almost unimaginable. As a first time mother I was shocked at the lack of time I had to myself. It took a while to adjust.

In contrast, now I accept that there is no time. I haven’t meditated since I gave birth and I’m totally ok with that. In accepting this situation of mothering two very young children means accepting their constant needs, interruptions and interaction. And in amidst this unrelenting noise and whirlwind of childcare the moments of peace and space to myself become more noticeable when they arise.

So I commit to staying present and enjoy these freedoms when they come up. To remembering who I am by doing stuff I love, reading stuff I like and grooming myself to a standard that makes me feel good. By asking for help when I need it and offering help when I can give it. Yeah mummy-hood, bring it on.

And when it gets really hard, I try to remember: With the biggest challenges  comes the opportunity for the biggest lessons and potential for incredible growth both spiritually and creatively. Phew.

My word for 2017....Present

Rather then a New Years resolution I’ve chosen a word. “Present”…. that’s where I want to be in 2017. Present in the moment, utilising my time yet not being so focused on goal achievement that I can’t take advantage of all opportunities that sit in front of me at that very instant, enjoying thousands of lovely spontaneous experiences along the way.  

So far, four days into 2017 this presence is working great. I’ve taken a walk in breezy sweet and warm weather ALL BY MYSELF. No dog, no child, no pram. Just me and the trees. Wow.

I’ve shared many funny moments with my little girl. I’ve tidied, I’ve meditated, practiced yoga. I’ve made yummy dinners. I’ve rested, and today while Evie slept I created a ritual intended for family love, peace and harmony … needed after the Christmas my blood relatives just had back home (eye roll).

Most importantly, Presence is what I need in order to be a good mum, and enjoy myself while I’m doing it. As this year being a baby + toddler mumma is where my priorities lie. A new little life will be born within the next few weeks, and my 18 month old grows more into herself each day. I want to cherish all of it.

Mother Earth. Fear of Childbirth.

My belly grows bigger by the day. Nursing my 17 month old on my lap has officially become uncomfortable most of the time. The weeks rush forward and my new baby will be born not quite a month after Christmas.  

Preparation for this second baby is different from last time. A first baby is a luxury of endless hours devoted to daydreaming, rubbing your belly and connecting with your unborn. I'm finding this second pregnancy occupied with the care of my first, a chatty little toddler now but still very much in need of mummy for most of the day, and very much my focus.

Experience is both a blessing and a curse. Leading up to Evie's birth I was positive, informed and confident. Leading up to this one I’ve been hopeful, brave, but admittedly, terrified. Choosing not to focus on the terror I’ve been ignoring it. I’ve collected a couple of resources to help ‘psych myself up’ for the impending labour and birth but have yet to read them. There’s a few gremlins hanging out from my last labour experience that I’d rather not think about.

Last week in my women circle* I was introduced to the energy of Pachamama, an ancient Andean fertility Goddess who presides over planting, harvests, mountains and causes Earthquakes when she’s pissed.  A Goddess I was unfamiliar with, but like Gaia, with Earth Mother as her description, I got the vibe.

I lay down and was led through a meditation, an invocation of Pachamama, Mother Earth. With an ethereal steel drumbeat in the background, random thoughts flitted through my mind. After a time I felt the Earth Mother in me. I saw myself in the forest, rock walls and greenery and trees surround. I was giving birth, trusting my body, trusting the process. I had this. I knew exactly what to do. And I was not alone. Bearing down, I had the support of millions of women before me who had laboured. They were all there standing behind Pachamama, who was holding my hand. She was squatting down next to me as I squatted, helping me deliver my child.  This was the mothers path: Holding the beautiful, breathing, heart-beating child in my arms. The one that I had birthed.

Afterwards, once the drumming had subsided and we returned back to the present, I was a new woman. I had courage in my heart. Real courage, confidence and honour for my body. This was going to be ok. I could do this, of course I could birth this child.  My perception had changed to see that I could go into this labour with trust in my heart. I so desperately needed that trust. In connecting to my inner Mother Earth I’ve witnessed trust in my body and the process of childbirth. And if there’s any trouble I have a frekking private obstetrician and the wonderful midwives at Murdoch SJOG to help me out. And drugs. I have the option of drugs IF I need them. Most importantly though, I have the Earth Mother, inside of me, as we all do, and she’s all over it. Thank Goddess I found her.

Artwork Pachamamita by Loreto Contreras Herrera

Motherhood and spirituality, it's tough but worth it

It’s a challenge balancing my creative desires with mothering. So much of what I was before is lost behind mountains of laundry, feeds and cleaning up after my precious precious child who is the very salt of my earth.  

This time of year, when the seasons change the air feels magic. Can you feel it. A feeling that makes me long to be more connected then I am. to celebrate life more.

Today I gathered Evie in my arms and before going out for some afternoon chores decided to go into the garden, breathe some fresh air.

I acknowledged the elements of each direction and blessed our afternoon with smooth sailing. I blessed our afternoon that all may be well. I gave open gratitude for the joy and abundance and health we enjoy in our family.

My afternoon was indeed smooth. It was like a running green light. Best of all though I felt connected. I felt like myself. I was whole and happy and open to more wholeness. My afternoon became effortless. This is a stark contrast to days where I don’t make this time and I feel not quite fulfilled.

Mornings of motherhood can quickly turn to afternoons and then become evenings where I just flop on the couch, overjoyed to have some time to rest, but to lazy or just plain exhausted to do anything that really feeds my soul.

It feels like effort to make some sacred space and connect, but I invariably find that after I do make the effort I am so much more energised. My happiness levels are up and inner peace more prominent. I know how I prefer to be.

A birth story

My first pregnancy was a much loved and wanted experience. I wanted my baby Evie so badly that my pregnancy, although progressing perfectly, was often fraught with anxiety that something might go wrong.

I’d been participating regularly in a pregnancy forum and read all kinds of horror stories. I was anxious despite not having ever had a miscarriage, despite perfect blood pressure and a baby that was growing at exactly the rate expected for dates.

And then at 34 weeks at my ob appointment, it became apparent that my baby had barely grown in the last two weeks. Barely at all.  My perfect pregnancy and my perfectly healthy baby were suddenly in jeopardy. The doctor checked blood flow to the placenta and although that seemed ok, she still seemed concerned, she referred me for an ultrasound. I fought back tears as I left the office and paid the account at the reception desk. The rest of the day I was unable to do anything except lie on the couch and google small birthweight babies. Friends and relatives told me not to worry, that maybe she was just small. That’s what I felt too. I tried tuning in to the little mystery in my womb and she told me

not to worry Mum

.

I tried not worry too but I couldn’t help it.

My baby shower the following weekend was fun until as the last guest was leaving it occurred to me that I hadn’t felt the baby move for

hours.

 Panic set in. I sat on the couch wondering if I should make the trip to emergency, hands on tummy, beside myself in worry. And then a movement, and another. I could relax again. Sort of.

The ultrasound showed a healthy baby with healthy blood flow. By the next appointment at 36 weeks she had grown the expected amount for the time frame, but had now dropped from 50th percentile to 10th percentile because of the lost two weeks. Weekly appointments from there on in showed consistent growth.

I attended a pre-natal intensive with a local doula and midwife. She spoke of how she breathed out her last two babies and instilled in me a firm belief that I could have this perfect drug free birth. I identified as one of those chicks, the ones that have spiritual and drug free home births, use doulas and experience orgasmic labours, even though I was using an obstetrician and a private hospital, and my husband didn’t like the idea of a doula at the birth. He wanted it to be just us two. My mother had five babies, drug free. My younger sister had two babies drug free. I was going to do this as close to nature as possible. I had this.

Pregnant, my birth story

I started acupuncture to help with a timely and well positioned birth. I’d been practicing maternity yoga. I started a little part-prep herbal to bring on a timely labour. I’d been attached to my babies due date, the 21 June. A solstice birthday like mine, the 21 December. I loved that my baby was due on the opposite solstice, it felt so right, we were meant to be.

My doctor suggested an induction at 39.5 weeks. She thought it was the best option as because now my baby was small there was greater risk. My heart sank. I’d imagined going into labour at home, having a lovely relaxing bath, woman-powering through contractions and not going into the hospital before I was well on my way to being fully dilated.  Once there I would breathe the baby out unmedicated and high on labour love.

I asked why? She said that there was a greater risk of stillbirth (horror) with small babies allowed to gestate longer then the due date. This was too much for my already anxious mind. She was the expert after all. I couldn’t bare to wait out what could be a labour that was two weeks late, freaking out that my baby would be born dead.

I asked if we could wait for the due date. Falling on a Sunday, the doctor agreed I would come in Sunday night for examination, and then be induced on the Monday morning of the 22.

I’m not really an astrology kind of girl but heres another thing that bothered me about inductions: Because her due date was the 21st on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer. Had I have chosen to induce on at the 39 weeks my doctor initially suggested I would have made her a Gemini. No I couldn’t do that, I had to let the Gemini ship sail before any inductions were going to take place. Besides, I wanted her to be a solstice baby, like me.

I was quietly confident I would go into labour naturally anyway and she would be born on her due date, the 21 June. I was doing all the things. Acupuncture, bouncing up and down on the bouncy ball. I had my herbal, I was meditating, doing yoga, taking ridiculously long walks even though I had a pain in my hip with each step from 37 weeks. I was rubbing clary sage on my belly. I created and practiced ritual for a healthy timely birth. I’d read JuJu’s Sundin’s book 'Birth skills' about the art of distracting oneself from the physical pain of labour and had created a birth poster with  affirmations and images of flowers opening to aid me in the birth.

The Friday two days prior to the due date rolled around. Slowly. I went for my last acupuncture appointment - my practitioner didn’t work on Saturdays. I felt it wouldn’t be enough. I made a final appointment for Saturday morning with another acupuncturist closer to home. I was determined to go into labour.

We went out to dinner, Andy and I, that Saturday night. We had a delicious cosy meal by a roaring open fireplace with the weather wild and wooly outside. we were home by 8.00pm and in bed not long after. I fell asleep lying on a towel in case my water broke,  expecting to be awoken by contractions in the wee hours of the morning.

My birth story

When I woke up to daylight streaming through my window I was terribly disappointed I hadn’t gone into labour the night before. In retrospect I should have been happily lazing in bed taking in the wonder of being able to sleep a whole night without interruption and wake up at leisure. A luxury that I still have not yet managed to experience almost 14 months later.

I was booked into hospital for 4.30 that afternoon. The time rolled around without so much of a hint of impending labour.   We packed our bags in the car, weather still wet and wild. Nature was well and truly reflecting the changes that were taking place in our lives that day. I didn’t really believe I would go through with the induction. I thought I’d find the strength and clarity to back out at the last minute. Andy and I drove to hospital, it was just us, like it always had been, for the past 11 years we’d been together.  It didn’t feel like I’d be returning home with a baby.  We hadn’t even picked up a the baby capsule yet.

A beautiful statue of the Virgin Mary was presiding over the end of the reception desk at the birth ward and I was immediately comforted. I took a photo of her.

Virgin Mary

Another patient had arrived with her husband and was first in line to be served. She had bags and bags of stuff at her feet. The Reception nurse wasn’t able to find her induction booking. We all stood around in shifty silence. What kind of operation were they running here? A call to her doctor confirmed she was meant to be there.

Then my turn. Thankfully they were expecting me. They took me straight to a labour suite, with a single cold bed, plenty of medical equipment and a teeny awkwardly placed television. I lay on the bed and waited for my doctor to see me. Being Sunday night she had brought her baby into work with her, a giant 10 month old baby. Of course the baby was not literally giant, just average I’m sure, but even a 12 week old baby looks huge to a first time pregnant mother. She was a giant looking baby.

The doctor checked my cervix while the baby was minded out of the room. Hard and closed. It was a strong one.

She explained that they would use a prostaglandin gel to soften my cervix overnight and I would be induced in the morning. After the doctor left I started to cry.

I explained the the midwife that I hadn’t wanted an induction.

There was no inner strength rising up to say STOP! I will have a natural birth.

Instead of a beautifully orchestrated miracle of nature playing it’s symphony as I birthed my baby into the world, I was lying on a cold hard bed having my completely inactive vagina and hard cervix prodded with cold hands and looking at a medical induction.

So why not an induction

It would hurt more

the cascade of intervention - one thing leads to another and a c-section is all the more likely.

The syntocinon would interfere with the natural hormonal cascade of childbirth, including restricting the natural pain killer oxytocin that also creates the falling in love euphoria experienced once the child is birthed. I didn’t want to interfere with this natural miracle.

Yet here I was, interfering. The gel was applied.

Unable to hold back the tears, a midwife coming in to check on me asked what was wrong. I told her I didn’t want to have an induction and she went to find the obstetrician.

My doctor came in.

Don’t be sad

, she said.

You’ll have your baby tomorrow. This is a happy time. You should be excited.

Next thing I had been served dinner. My husband hung out for not very long. Leaving to go home to Sunday night television and his own bed. I tried to watch TV, and scrolled Facebook on my phone.  Started to feel mild contractions at about 8.00. They came regularly, perhaps every half an hour at first. I managed to fall asleep by 11pm but was awake by 1pm as the contractions were getting stronger. By 3.30 labour was definitely in full swing. I called Andy. “it’s happening babe. He arrived, we were both wildly excited. Pacing around the room, bouncing up and down on the fit ball. Trying out yoga stretches. Focusing on my affirmations.

Birth poster with affirmations

As they do, the contractions got more and more intense. I tried the shower. Got out, some more yoga stretches. Fit balling. Repeat. By about 5am I started to vomit. Anything that was in my digestive system came back out again.  Vomiting from pain? Vomiting because Evie was compressing my digestive system? Vomiting because of the adrenaline flooding my body?  I’m not sure but it was horrific. I’d vomit at the peak of the contractions, and it kept happening, until there was nothing left, nothing. Time went on, the vomiting subsided. I sipped some water. It was brought up with the next contraction, which by now seemed only seconds apart.

The exhaustion set in, I was so dehydrated, I was losing strength. The pain was worse and worse.  I began to understand that my baby was posterior. She must be for me to be feeling like this. No one had felt and checked her position for me the previous day, or if they did they didn’t tell me about it. She had been posterior at my ob appointment 5 days earlier. I didn’t give it much thought, optimistic she would turn. Now with contractions in full swing it was glaringly obvious this was a posterior birth. It just hurt

that

much. Contractions seemed to last a minute with only a few seconds in between, like 5 seconds, I’m not joking, they were back to back. All the labour literature I’d read said 'there is a 1 to 2 minute rest in between contractions.' Absolute horse shit.

By about 9am the midwife put a drip in my arm, bypassing my digestive system so I could get some hydration into me. I started to feel better. By now about 6 hours had passed since that 3.30am phone call.  I was offered gas and I took it. The gas made me feel dizzy and a bit out of it, but didn’t really touch the sides of the contractions. Once I’d started inhaling that gas I couldn’t give it away again, it became a crutch. My coping strategies were lost and replaced with this lightweight drug. My affirmation poster was pretty much forgotten about. My doctor came to see me as I sucked on the gas machine and blared out noises similar to a distressed cow, eyes watery and wild. She seemed to look at me with a disturbed look on her face. Possibly my imagination.

My cervix was checked. With contractions like this I must be at least 7cm along, surely.

"You’re 3 cm dilated.” What the fuck? I could die like this. I can’t even drink fucking water.

Dr Chua told me she was going to break my water. I closed my eyes. I knew that sac of amniotic fluid was helping cushion me from some pain and my baby from some trauma. I had no strength to argue, maybe it would make about go faster. I agreed. She broke it, it hurt as she was breaking it. I felt the fluid rush out, and immediately my contractions got worse, more grating.

I knew I needed an epidural.

I said this to the doctor. She said, “hmmm I think it’s a good idea” and asked the midwife the call the anaesthetist. He would be half an hour. Another half hour of excruciating posterior contractions. Fucking agony. I used the best of my mental capabilities to get through it.My husband was shocked that this was all so difficult and was clearly uncomfortable. I kept asking him to rub my back,

The midwife had been asking me to try and do a wee. I had absolutely no desire to wee and nothing came out when I made an attempt. Doing a wee was the last thing on my mind

As the epidural was administered, I sat leaning forward on the bed doing everything in my power not to move while a hideous contraction wracked my body. Thankfully no nerves were severed. I was given a dose just big enough to cut some pain, I was still able to walk to the bathroom and back and try for that wee. Still nothing, no desire to wee. The midwife knew my bladder must be full.

Everything quietened down once the epidural kicked in. I could lie on my side on the bed. “you can get some sleep” No there was no sleeping. Even though the pain was mostly gone. I could still feel the contractions rolling through my body, and I was still uncomfortable, and probably quite traumatised.

Andy asked if I minded if he went home for a shower. “are you kidding? NO”

He had a shower in the ensuite.

Meanwhile the midwife inserted a catheter to release my bladder. There was an awful lot of wee’s to release.

Within an hour the epidural was starting to wear off a bit and the contractions seemed to be getting more intense.

The midwife checked my cervix and told me I was 10cm and was ready to push. Only an hour after the epidural, 1.5 hours after being told I was 3cm.

Evie’s head had been pressing against my urethra not allowing any fluid to pass. However my full bladder was preventing her from progressing through the birth canal.

So once I had the epidural

I had the catheter

My bladder was emptied

Baby moves down canal

cervix opens

Viola, you’re pushing

Without the epidural and that IV drip who knows what would have happened. Labour could have been hours and hours longer. It could have been days. Severely dehydrated suffering hideous back to back contractions. I’m not really sure I would would have survived this birth without modern medicine. Sadly I’m not joking.

I tried and tried to push without an awareness of where I should be pushing, caused by the epidural. The midwife showed me with her fingers, and I asked her to keep them there so I could focus on that point.

A hour of pushing, we made some progress.

“I feel hair” said the midwife.

For some reason the pushing was the most terrifying part of the whole ordeal. My body was open, there was so much pain, was it getting worse? I couldn’t really get a good sense of what was going on. The epidural was wearing off. I was terrified, as well as being mentally and physically exhausted. I wanted this to be over.

My doctor came back. She asked if I wanted some help. Yes, I wanted some help. She asked me to lie on my back, propped up by the bed, legs in stirrups, the least favourable position for birthing naturally.  She got the vacuum, and vacuumed my baby out. There were a few contractions more, the head was out, she was 180 deg posterior, starting straight up. As posterior as they come.

The umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around her neck, three times. “Andy”  Said the doctor, if you want to cut the cord you better come a cut it now.” Another disappointment, no delayed cord cutting for Evie and I. There wasn’t enough umbilical length to birth the body of the baby without cutting it, and of course there were the strangulation implications, not so much a problem while the placenta is still attached and working.

Andy snipped the cord from Evies neck, her body still in mine.

She was out with the next push. At 12:50pm on the 22 of June. And this is where I cry.

Evie is born

They put her on my chest, wide eyed, but still. Breathing in tiny little gasps, not proper breathing. She was there, quiet. Come on I said to her, rubbing her back, or giving a little tap.

“She’s not a good colour” said the midwife. They took her to the infant incubator, put oxygen on her, called the paediatrician. He was in pretty quickly. he was working on her with the nurse at the incubator. I listened for a cry. He got her making a few sounds. Cry like sounds, but not continuous crying. The Obstetrician was stitching me up. She said “you’re not saying anything” to me. I was listening. Listening for my baby’s cry, listening for the words and body language of the paediatrician and midwives, listening for inner guidance about what was happening.

I asked for Evie  back. They brought her back to my chest, Only for a few more moments. Her breathing was still not right, she wasn’t moving, much,  her eyes were open. "We better take her into the special care nursery” said the paediatrician.

The midwife said on my right, like an angel

Her heartbeat is good

and for this reason I didn’t panic. I was calm, and I knew she’d be alright.  Andy was more concerned however and followed our baby out of the room.

I birthed the placenta, after an injection of syntocinin. The only syntocinin I had that day, thankfully. The prostaglandin gel had been enough to set me off into labour.

The midwife finished up what she was doing and left the room.

Everybody left.

I was lying there alone, a mere 20 minutes after the biggest event of my whole life.  No baby in my arms, no husband at my side.

The loneliest I have ever felt.

Then miraculously my mother called. Mum I just had a baby. She hadn’t known I was in labour. We had decided not to tell anyone that we were going in for an induction because I felt like it would be pressure. It was difficult telling her I’d had an epidural, as my mother had a negative view of them. I was relieved to perceive no judgement on her behalf.

Andy returned with a photo of our little girl and reported she was fine, but they’re keeping her in to watch her. She had some movement in her left arm but it isn’t behaving like the right arm. She had a birthmark on her right eye. Shaped like a little triangle. A bit David Bowie.

Evie's first portrait, newborn

I asked Andy to get me a coffee. I hadn’t had one for over 24 hours. He went and got them. We drank them, just us two in celebration of getting through the labour. We debriefed, we were used to it being just us after all, and because our baby was still a stranger to me, that coffee between just as two was our last as just us.

Then it was time to go see little Evie. I was anxious I hadn’t had my hour of skin to skin after the birth. That she hadn’t latched on to my breast. That the time with mother and baby together one-on-one after birth just didn’t happen for me. I was also worried about her health. She’d been what the doctors called ‘stunned.’ Not a medical term by any means. No one explained what they actually meant by ‘stunned. And perhaps they didn’t really know themselves.   She wasn’t quite present. It was like the lights were on but no one was home. Even for a new born.

I was wheeled into the special care nursery and there she was. My baby in just a little T-shirt and nappy. Tiny on a giant infant incubator, bright lights in her face, exposed, alone. She was jumping and screaming at every noise. My heart broke that she was alone and scared while my spirit was delighted to meet with hers in that moment. I was a curious and inadequate-feeling mother, as I hadn’t yet nursed her or taken care of her at all.

She had a sore head, they told me, from the vacuum. Indeed she had a cone head with a red circle on the top.

My first instinct was to brush her forehead. But she cried out and Andy told me “she has a sore head” I immediately felt stupid, but I shouldn’t have as this is a very normal first instinct for a mother.

The special care nurse encouraged skin to skin and trying to get Evie to latch on.

I sat there and she was placed under my hospital gown. There was no interest in my nipples, still stunned. “Is she alright? I asked the nurse,  contemplating the possibility I have a brain damaged child and feeling completely prepared to take that on.

I held her there on my chest, and she slept. I too became very sleepy and even began to nod off for micro sleeps. After an hour Andy held her for a little while, she was much more alert, and despite not latching on, seemed to be acting more like a normal baby. They told me to get into my room and have my dinner. The last time the doctor had assessed her before our skin to skin, they had thought they might keep her in overnight as she wasn’t improving to their liking.

I was wheeled into my room and presented with some food I found I had no appetite for. I was told not long after that the doctor was happy to release her into my care for the night. At 6pm a couple of nurses knocked on the door ‘We have a special delivery’ and wheeled in my gorgeous newborn child.

They helped me express a little colostrum and Evie latched on almost immediately, she started to suck. It was such a joy and relief. We had a beautiful little suckling.

Beautiful healthy newborn

An hour on mummy’s chest in the special care nursery and she came good. Her lights came on.  I believe if they’d brought her back to me once her breathing was stable she might have come good a lot quicker. We could have had that precious time together after birth. She wouldn’t have been terrified and alone on an infant warmer. She would have been fine. It’s difficult not to feel a little angry and sad when I think about this.

Evie is wonderfully intelligent and perfectly healthy.  Once she was in that hospital room with me she fed like a champion and gained a fabulous amount of weight. We snuggled and cuddled. In the beginning I could make all of her problems go away by holding her on my chest. It was divine.

And the mothering begins. The next few days are a blur of feeds, short sleeps, learning how to swaddle, bath and change nappies. My nipples progressively got sorer. And then in the quiet in-between moments, when I had time to think, memories of the labour infiltrated my mind like a shadow. After a couple of weeks the shadow began to fade away. Behind me now, babe in arms.

This birth story is not the one I wanted for myself, in a lot of ways it’s actually the opposite of what I wanted, and awful.  But the baby I birthed is the greatest miracle of my life and better then anything I could ever have hoped for.

 Though this labour didnt go as planned, I now realise truly it isn’t the way they are born that’s important, c-section, induction, home birth, whatever, but that you have a beautiful healthy gorgeous baby at the end of it. Of course there is evidence for a natural drug free birth providing the best outcome for baby, but a natural drug free birth isn’t always the best pathway to a healthy mother and baby.

What I will do differently next time

Unless there’s a damn good reason, I’m going into labour naturally. I want the experience of natural labour, starting at home, or in the supermarket, or wherever, just not on a cold hospital bed.

I’ll say no to my doctor more.

I won’t let my waters be broken before their time, unless of course, there is good medical reason

This all being said, I won’t be so attached to the method of delivery. Had I needed a caesarian for Evies birth I would’ve been devastated. However, having been through this, I now realise you really can't control what happens in the labour room, or before it, no matter how much maternity yoga, hypnobirthing, meditation and green smoothies you drink. Of course I’d read this before going into labour, but now I truly understand it. Of course do everything you can to have a healthy, positive pregnancy and birth, but let go of any attachment to the outcome.

If your body has abundant and balanced hormones, a baby in the right position, and you are mentally in the right place, blessings to you, you are so lucky to be able to have a healthy natural birth. Cherish it with all of your being.

If my next baby is posterior, (currently I’m in my second trimester of my second pregnancy) I’ll be prepared for an epidural, probably quite a bit earlier.

I won’t be so attached to a particular birthday. To be honest, the doctor scared me into an induction for ‘medical reasons,’ however my attachment to a set birthdate helped persuade the induction, and it’s just not worth it for me this time.

I’m already seeing a chiropractor regularly and will commence acupuncture earlier. Evie may have been posterior due to a rotation in my pelvis. If I can fix this, I will.

Trust more. I had so many freak outs something was wrong during the pregnancy, when everything was fine. This time I’m feeling much more relaxed.

What I will do the same

Be as mentally fit and prepared as possible for the experience of child birth (the pain, I mean the pain). I got through 8 hours of posterior contractions with the power of my own mind.

Make as beautiful an environment as possible to give birth in

Visualise the most perfect birth experience possible.

Use an obstetrician and private hospital. I loved the care I received by the midwives at St John of God Murdoch. They were all so lovely and attentive.  The only attitude I got was from the lunch lady! I had a private room with a view of a beautiful pond and a double bed.  I considered a home birth but to be honest, I need the rest after giving birth, and I got rest in hospital. I don’t want to clean up after my own labour thank you very much, and finding space to spend time with my new born will be tough with my toddler in the same building.

The Obstetrician and I had some differing views on childbirth, however she helped me when I needed it,  I’m feeling more confident to stand my ground when I need too.

Pray, create ritual, intend for everything to go as perfect as possible. Be grateful for the healthy baby I’m carrying and the wonderful care I am receiving.

Encapsulate my placenta. I really didn’t feel the ‘baby blues’ that nearly every woman feels about three weeks post-natal. I believe they helped me regain some strength quite quickly.

Love the experience.

I'll leave you with this link to a video of a very beautiful peaceful moment Evie and I had together soon after her birth.

Mummy blessings. React or Create the moment....You choose

  I’m not the first to find out that this mothering gig can take all of your time, and all of your energy. I find myself amidst gorgeous days filled with love and connection with my child, at the same time wanting to express myself creatively and do things that are just for me. However finding the time, energy or inclination to write/create in her nap times or when she finally goes down to sleep for the evening  is rare. And even if I do feel like sitting down to write, this desire competes with my need to have some adult time with my husband, and just some goddamn rest.

I go about mum things, cooking dinner, bathing, feeding and putting Evie to sleep, gazing lovingly at her all the while. Sentences and thoughts dancing in my head, I just want to write them down but I’m conflicted because I still have dishes to do. Oh to just sit down and create.

So how to maintain sanity...Hmmmm.... I’ve been trying to break the creative process into teeny tiny pieces that I manage to fit in around all the child-care and housewifery. This doesn’t always do the trick for me, my craving for self expression persists.

My dilemma has reminded me of a passage in one of my favourite books, Neale Donald Walsh’s Conversations with God. Neale writes 'You either create the moment or you react to the moment.' Create or React: These two words are made of the same letters. They are anagrams of each other.

The unconscious decision would be to simply react. So when I have plans that are a skewed by an inquisitive, curious and ever needing baby I can choose to be frustrated, perhaps even feel a victim or I can decide to be in the present moment, practice non-resistance and accept each experience in my day as is. Even the shit bits. Even the bits where I’m trying to experience a little connection to nature by setting up a natural altar outdoors and blessing a new key ring with safe travels, wonderful discoveries and plenty of opportunity to share what I learn. Instead of feeling the feminine divine I end up feeling stressed and annoyed because Evie won’t stop trying to eat dirt and kangaroo poo, or trying to suck the moisture out of all her baby wipes, between pulling the entire contents of my bag apart and spreading it in the dirt.

Often I go the way of frustrations, I get annoyed, I get upset. But I’m practicing on bringing myself back to the present, back to the recognition of the perfection, even amidst the mess, tears and crap. Because to react is to get lost in misery, where as to create is to express pure soul. I know which one feels better.

And some days, after a particularly gruelling night of baby-care, I’m just so goddamn tired that my brain chemicals aren’t right and grumpy mummy is practically inevitable. It’s easy to be conscious on 8 hours sleep a night, but try 4. It’s no easy task.

So, as with all mothers everywhere, my challenge is choosing to create each moment anew, and choose each response to the delicate and precious little human being in my care, taking my days moment at a time. I choose to bring myself back to the present when I feel my mood slipping into murkiness, despair, annoyance and frustration. I can choose to find a sense of balance and peace with my days in order to cherish as much of this precious time with my baby as possible. Because deep inside I know this time is a blessing. And like all things this too will pass.

What success looks like for this stay-at-home Mama

This morning while Andy was around to watch little miss Evie I went out for a meditation in the back studio. I lay there and gazed out the window into the garden, extraordinarily grateful I got to spend the day mothering my gorgeous now 9-month-old baby in my gorgeous house with all my needs fulfilled. I was so grateful it ached. I chose a page from Doreen Virtues Daily Guidance from your Angels to inspire me. My guidance: 'Visualise your day being a success.' 'Hmmm' I thought, ‘What can I do today to be successful?’ Days spent mothering babies leave little room for what is traditionally considered ’success.' I thought perhaps I could clean a lot, tick off some to-dos, I could connect with the Divine Feminine and the Earth.

Once back inside after breakfast it was a different story. Evie’s become a fabulous tiny crawler and is into everything, typically finding the dirtiest most dangerous thing in the room to play with and sucking on it. She bites me when I pull her away. She pulls my hair and laughs when I say no. I stand up after prying her away from an electrical socket and hit my head on a hanging plant. “Visualise success” I told myself.

She likes to sleep suck and be held. I feed her to sleep, I’ve always done this and it’s worked fine but in the last few days once placed in her cot she arches her back, wakes herself up completely and kicks and cries to be picked up and reattached to my breast. It’s hard not to let my spirit dampen, as I need space and time to get my own stuff done, and she needs a good and proper sleep.

Nappy changes are a challenge with a vivacious baby fascinated and excited by the world around her. She can’t stay still while I lovingly change her very dirty nappy, she wants to turn over and dive headfirst off the change-table instead, smearing poo as she goes. It takes a long time to do anything, much longer then I could have imagined when I was a non-parent. There were no to-do's being ticked off today.

The thing is, it’s not about me anymore. It’s not my agenda I need to be concerned with. It’s hers. So while I make sure we all eat and our environment is clean, it’s her learning and her wonder at the world that I need to connect with. Not just for her well being, but for my own sanity.

Evie is completely and utterly in the moment. What she feels is expressed then and there; her mind is occupied by what’s in front of her. She’s fascinated by the smallest details and delighted by the simplest things. It's adorable and special and so so precious.

When I follow her lead and engage with what she’s engaging in she laps it all up. Not only do we share giggles, but moments of mutual connection, appreciation and pure love. I can see this connection is what she craves, I feel like I’m giving her what she needs. And in these moments, I’m a good mother.

So I’m going to try and remember this, to just slow down to her level. To be in the moment as much as possible, forget about whatever it is that I wanted to do, and just enjoy. I’ll even try to enjoy the prolonged boob sucks at 3am. Because if I can give her what she needs I believe she’ll grow to reach her potential. And that’s why we have children in the first place.

I guess today was a success after all.