Hello old friend

I am a horrible blogger.  Life just got so busy and in all honesty the things I was going through was not something I could put out there on the interwebs, because it wasn’t just mine to share. But now things are returning to some form of normalcy, well as normal as they can be in my house (read: head)

What a  rollercoaster year it has been since the last time I was on here. To start of with, we moved house.  We finally took the plunge and bought our own place.  Bliss! 

We have made news friends, some we lost, but time moves on and so must we.

We got a bit of a surprise in May…another set of little feet that can steal car keys and unpack my wallet in Pick and Pay trolleys. And this time, it is a GIRL! What a mind blowing prospect. From the time I found out I was expecting again (once the shock wore off). I was mentally preparing myself for another little boy, thinking, it is is okay, I have this raising boys thing down to an art form. We can do this.  Now? Well, now it is a whole different ball game.  

The biggest change of all is the fact that I (with my amazing husband’s support) have decided to quit my job and become a stay at home mom. Who would have thought.  


A stay at home mom? If you had suggested that to me 5 years ago I would have told you to stop drinking your bathwater.  But there it is.

In 12 days I am finishing my notice period and trading in the morning commute to town for the morning school run.

I am scared.  I am stressed. I am freaking out….just a little bit (okay maybe a lot).

What if I suck? Will I make it out alive…will the kids make it out alive?

Will one of them (or all), in 20 years time, lie on the couch in their Therapists office and pinpoint the time where it all ‘went wrong’ to the day I decided to stay home with them.

Only time will tell or perhaps the school psychologist.  But that is a problem for another day.

For now I will follow Douglas Adams’ advice…

-Don’t panic-



I promise to get excited…soon

I didn’t get the birth that I wanted with the Terrorist.  I had a boorish, bully of a doctor that put the fear of God into me so that I conformed to his way if doing things.  I was told, obviously this was only done on occasions where my husband could not be present for the appointments, that I would be a 27 year old stuck in adult nappies for the rest of my life if I wanted to go ahead with a natural birth like my “birth-plan” stated. I was told that I am to small, that a bladder operation from 22 years ago would be undone and I may end up pushing my bladder out along with the baby etc. etc.

I was naive enough to believe him, when I went into labour before he could do the planned c-section I was pushed into a theathre so fast my head was still realing by the time they gave me an epidural and I felt like aliens had invaded my body. I had a severe freak out in the theatre and wanted to get up off the table with all my might, so that the husband had to press me back down.  I had no time to process.  It was like my body was possessed. I had no say.  It. was.terrifying.

Something that was supposed to be natural and joyfull turned into a painfull ordeal.  I was resentfull.  Who am I kidding, I still am.  Even now, when I find out a friend/acquintance/stranger is one of his patients, I advise them to run as far as their little feet can carry them in the opposite direction. I see red because it is an every day occurance that patients are bullied and duped by their doctors into doing what they, the doctors, want.

I am absolutely determined that this time around will not be the same.  I am doing my homework.  I am doing the research. I am making sure that I have the best caregivers, not only on the medical side but also emotionally, and to that end I am enlisting the help of a doula.  I have yet to get this okayed by the husband, but knowing me, I think it is vital.  I am very nervous, about everything.  The husband always jokes that I am a warrior..not the Xena kind, more like Stressed Eric (perhaps without the bulding arterie).

I have found a wonderful doctor that says that there is absolutely no reason for me not to be able to give birth naturally this time around.  He even gave it a fancy acroymn.  VBAC. My first appointment was like a breath of fresh air. For once, I was not treated like an ignorant naughty school girl that managed to get pregnant, but rather like a grown up that should have some say in how this pregnancy plays out. It really is a great relief.

Even so, I cannot help but get these fleeting moments of wanting to run into the hills screaming “What the feck where we thinking?”

I realise that this is what I/we wanted, we tried for seven months. (in comparison to others, that is like 2 seconds but to me it seemed like forever. Not that I am complaining, the process was not completely awful).

I am not feeling at all like I thought I would, this time around. I want to be happy, glowing, floating of fairy dust, farting rainbows that kind of thing.  Instead I am one anxious knot with neck spasms that is likely to go postal at the slightest provocation.

Maybe my fairy dust is buried under a pile of determination? Right will get them out as soon as I have been able to move again and finished my research on how to fart rainbows…