Two looks like so much more.

In the whole spirit of "spending money to keep the economy strong", we've invested this week in a double pram.

I use the word 'invested' loosely, because obviously, once you've bought a good, it depreciates in value. But we're investing in the well being of Australia! 

This new spin on consumerism does my head in, really! Never before has the whole of Australia or the Government been backing my spending choices in such a whole-hearted fashion. It almost makes me feel good about myself. Consider this- I spend money, not just to satisfy my own desires but also as a noble move to better the people who live in my country. But seriously, what ludicrous propaganda. Even if it has an element of truth to it.

So anyway, back to the double pram. It certainly looks like it will do the job of hiking 2 kids from point A to point B, but the proof will be in the pushing. I used to think a pram is a pram, until I bought my very nice current 3 wheeler from the trading post. It looks good, and it does push a variety of things (kids included) but the issue lies on whether you're pushing on a perfectly horizontal surface or whether you're on a slight incline. I spend my time pushing this pram around Glenmore Park, counteracting the force of gravity to try to push it over on it's side by pushing and leaning with all my weight on the opposite side to counteract gravity. Needless to say, this pram is going as soon as more than a 10kg baby is up in this pram, assisting gravity and working against a poor, struggling Mum. (That's me in this scenario).

So I'm anticipating with great joy the years of use from this new $800 pram. Spread out between 6 kids, that's only like $133.33 dollars per kid! Bargain! (Please note the sarcasm)

So along with a new bassinette that holds a kid up to 10kgs (Avy's weight now) and a borrowed carseat from Craig's helpful parents, the house is fuller, the car is looking a lot more like a family vehicle and my life is looking a lot more full with a lot less spare time again. But I can't wait! Just a whole house worth of cleaning to do first in preparation.

Realising that life works better with kids when it's structured, I've written out schedules for every week for the first 8 weeks of the baby's life to structure feeds and work out how I'm going to keep a very active toddler entertained during these tedious stretches. It's certainly chaotic, but I think if i can get them both into as much of a routine as possible early on, then at least my nights will be more restful than if they run on their own schedules. Thankyou Gina Ford!

The routine worked more or less with Avy, and she slept from 10.30pm till 7am with a sleepy middle of the night feed in there somewhere. So it's worked once, let's hope for two co-operative kids! Less than 6 weeks to go in the countdown to Willow's birth...

Be as ordinary as you may be for the rest of forever.

As I was reading about Mary and Elizabeth in Luke's gospel, a realisation crept over me. How strange it must have been for these two women to have been told that they were carrying children of vital importance to God's saving plan for the world.

Elizabeth, falling pregnant in her old age to a son. Moreover, this news of a son was delivered by an angel! How crazy must you have looked, telling people that your son was going to "make ready a people prepared for the Lord".

And then take Mary as well, getting the news from the same angel that her son would be given everlasting reign on the throne of David! It would have been a lot to accept, coming from an angel's lips. I'm sure they questioned their sanity a lot, as would have others. But at least these two women had eachother to talk to. Their children were indeed special. 

One was John the Baptist, whose task it was to prepare the people for their Lord Jesus' coming. And the other- God himself incarnate, who assumed the physicality of humanity in order to free it from slavery. I don't think these two women really understood who their children were and how they were integral to God's plans for the whole world by raising these kids. But it gives me comfort to know that they probably didn't understand just how important their kids' were. It would certainly have been hard for Mary to not play favourites when Jesus was in amongst his regular brothers if she really knew that Jesus was the third person of the trinity of the Christian Godhead. I'm sure it would have been hard anyway, having the most perfect of children in amongst brothers and possibly sisters with regular human sinful actions.

But I digress. My thoughts just wander when I think of how these women were given news of their pregnancies by an angel. Would it have made the pregnancies even more filled with anticipation? Would the women have felt superiority over other friends who just had "boring ordinary" children? Would they have struggled with pride? I'm guessing so.

It also seems so funny to put these children alongside Avalon and other kids I know. No angel has visited me or my friends as far as I'm aware. Our kids will grow up to be ordinary people. Just regular, everyday, run of the mill type adults (most likely). And in this day and age, I think many parents would be quite upset to think that their children wont 'excel', 'succeed' or be in a higher plane of achievement than their peers. And that makes me sad.

Avalon, all I want for you is that you know your maker and King and that your life reflects your awe and thankfulness to him. Avy, all I pray for you is that you are in his flock. The good shepherd's. You can be a toilet-cleaner, you can fail at reading or writing at school, you could be all in all very unimpressive to others, and it won't matter one bit. Because you, my daughter, will be the daughter of a King. And when this King assumes his throne completely, it won't matter what your day job was or how well you 'succeeded' with worldly endeavours. What will matter though is whether you have a friendship with that King. And if you do, he will continue to lavish love on you for all of forever.

View from the top

Here's the very first picture I've uploaded to my blog.

Despite being a photo fanatic, I am aware that others are not, and so I often just don't upload anything.

But, inspired by my friend, Hayley's pictures of herself and her eldest daughter in this same pose, I thought I'd give it a try for posterity. And how about that- Avalon performed perfectly for the occassion. She was even much gentler with her pats than usual, which I was thankful for. And she even looks somewhat happy about her new little sister growing away in there. I hope that turns out to be true.

As these final months close in on me, little Willow is getting much stronger and I can feel a lot bigger. So much so that it scares me that I still have 7 weeks left of her growing to go. 

When she kicks now, she winds me by getting my diaphragm, and she's always wriggling or poking, which makes me think that she's a little uncomfortable in there. I can feel her hiccuping, just like Avalon did (but not with the same frequency) but no scratching (Thank God!, it was a horrible sensation.) 

Mostly, Willow likes to roll around, or at least slowly stretching is the best way I can put it. Limbs scrape against my belly but in slow motion most of the time, like a scene from a movie where a sea serpent slithers under the water causing slight ripples. And it's not too uncomfortable. (Sorry Willow for the comparison! I do love you, sweetie!)

Lately, I've also been waking up in the morning after sleeping for more than the usual 4 hours in a stretch and finding that my pelvis feels really fragile, like it's about to splinter apart. And as I bend to collect something from the floor, i hear it click in about 10 places. But at  least for the rest of the day I'm usually much more mobile. Putting aside my tell tale "stagger" up the stairs routine.

Pregnancy is certainly costly to your body. It feels like I could hurt myself at any moment if I move wrongly (and I sometimes do), and each pregnancy has brought different highlights and lowlights. I'm assuming much like the difference in the children themselves. And while it's probably one of the hardest physical states to endure for a year or longer (with feeding included), the pain from pregnancy and birth is still minimal in comparison to a new life in our family. And I can't imagine this being the last time I am pregnant, no matter how cumbersome I feel and how unproductive my life has become.

I hope that God has many more of these in store for me, and I also hope that my body recovers well from the toll of it all!

Posterior babies

Not a lot is said or heard of optimum baby positioning. Pregnant Mums have heard of breach babies (babies that are feet first instead of head first out the chute) or transverse babies (ones that prefer to lie perpendicular to your waist than parallel) but there are other ways that babies can sit which can cause drawn-out births.

I know this now, because I did a lot of research after Avalon's 47 hour labour. 

Your uterus turns a baby clockwise around in your belly until it fits perfectly in your pelvis, at which time, usually your body will respond by opening up and pushing it out (I'm trying for an intermediate level of detail for the male friend readers out there).

So If a baby sits with it's head down, but it's back lies on your right side, not on your left, it needs to undergo almost a full 360 degree rotation until it can be birthed well, where it's back can lie straight down your belly button. Most babies prefer to lie in a good birthing position, on a mother's left hand side. But some want to cause trouble, and for various speculated reasons, aren't positioned this way.

The births that are explained in books are those who follow the rules and whose baby lies in that optimal birthing position. According to those books, first births take a maximum of 17 hours. That's like, less than a day! And according to those books, contractions are regular and get closer together whereas posterior births are often preluded by days of 10 minute and then 3 minute contractions.

So my friend Sarah and I were quite unprepared for our births, which both went on for days. Unlike Sarah, whose little Noah was actually born posterior, Avalon eventually turned all the way.

But this word posterior is what I dread now. Because it means a more intense labour, stronger contractions for a much longer period of time than a common labour, crazy back pain along with the regular muscle tightenings and a feeling of being in transition from an earlier point in the labour.

All of which leads to an exhausted Mum and Dad and a long, long labour until the baby eventually turns past your back (hence backpain as their spine scrapes yours on the way through) so it can be birthed.

All I can say is that I've read up on it A LOT. If my midwives can find out if I'm posterior, I'm going straight for the epidural. There's no way I'm deliberately planning on going through 6 hours of transition like pain again (unless God has other ideas of course).

I also know that this baby I carry prefers to be in a posterior position now. All of her kicks come out the front of my belly. So I'm praying that she moves a little to my left sometime soon and gets nice and comfortable there. Because there's so much appeal to me in experiencing a regular, run of the mill type birth.

Is there anything wrong with just wanting to be normal and not always the exception to the rule? 

Orderly-ness warning.

There is a danger to being orderly. Well, at least for an on-the-verge obsessive compulsive personality like my own.

When I was a child living with my parents, my room was constantly messy, and it felt fine. Orderlyness was not even on my agenda. My older sister's room, Alex, was spotlessly clean. Actually, Mum told me that the reason she stopped us co-sharing rooms was because at all of 5 years of age, my sister had decided that I was "too messy" to live with. She drew on the carpet (or such like) a line out of chalk. And I was not allowed to cross this line. Her territory must not be impinged upon. And so, at age 3, I was labelled "the messy child". Who knows whether I kept this up out of low expectations from my family or out of actual innate uncleanliness, but when I left home, I was much the same. Until marriage.

Somewhere in our marriage, I realised that there was now no clean room to go into. Unless, of course, I cleaned it first. So the understanding that I had to be a cleaner person dawned on me.

I now think that I probably spend the majority of my waking hours cleaning. It becomes a habit. Taking things from one room to another till things are generally where they belong. Sort of an all-day-clean routine. Things are always being wiped or picked up or moved or scrubbed. It's a necessity and there's no limit to what you can do.

And that's where the problem lies. Soon, you can not only clean, but also organise, then organise the organised things, and then catalogue the organised things, then systematically file through those things at certain points in the year to re-cul the organised things.

It's never ending and tiring and addictive. And when I think of cleaning it always reminds me of God's wise words about "such things under the sun", they are all a "chasing after the wind."

Things will break. Things will continue to get dirty.

And all the while, my arms will continue in a flurry of movement until the Lord returns and true rest appears.