Communal living

My gorgeous friend, Sarah with her newborn daughter. Wanna come live next door to me, Sar???

After seeing how much easier life is with grandparents and family being around a lot recently, I have a new found respect for communal living.

Whilst at college amd trying to hold down 2 jobs and a new marriage, living in a community felt like another "task" on my list along with washing cars and dishes. I felt no need to build some strong relationships with the other college people living around me because life was already so full and I just wanted to be selfish and have time for myself once I got indoors.

Now that I have kids that need constant entertaining, the thought of living in community really is starting to grow on me. It really just shows my selfish nature. Now that communal living can help ME, I'm happy to be a part of it. But there it is- the reality of it.

I would love more than anything now to live in a community of godly people who have nothing to do all day but keep their own kids entertained and learning. How blissful would that be?

Each Mum would dump their kids on another family for a day a week, houses would be cleaned and dinners cooked with much less stress than if the task was undergone alone. And there'd be a whole heap of strung out mothers with other mums to encourage them. Life would expand. Solitude would be found in the evenings, and with others living next door, monitors could be hooked up to neighbouring houses so mums and dads could go out without even disturbing the kids or the family next door (unless of course, a child wakens =) )

This just sounds delightful to me at this stage of my life.

I'll keep you all posted if our neighbouring property comes up for rent. Tee hee.

Here's some pics from this afternoon while we waited for Dad to come home from his day in the city. As you can see, Ava's not too impressed with my antics. I just wish I had the time to do the ironing so it wasn't always mocking me in the background of my photos. I at least managed to crop it out of the majority of them.

My friend asked me the other day whether I was going ok. I think I am, but who really has the time to think anymore?

This little person has once again taken over my life. I find myself enjoying the fleeting moments of solitude and yet I somehow find the cuddles with my girls equally gratifying.

I can't perceive how life looks for those Mums doing it on their own. For someone who was once such an independent spirit, I find that in motherhood I need people that much more. I need my husband. I need my mother. I need my support women and sisters around me. This journey cannot possibly be taken alone. By me, anyway.

So I totally appreciate that my Mum has come over every week to help me unbury the carpet of this house. She continues to sacrifice for this girl of hers, even though i've flown the nest and should technically be self sufficient.

So my house resembles a place of more order when she leaves, and a couple of surfaces even sparkle in happiness over their cleanliness. Her hard work helps me during the week as I struggle to keep this place livable. 

She's a gem, my Mum. Here's hoping that our 6 kids have babies at different times so I can one day do the same for them. 

A busier life

Well, adjusting to having 2 kids around has been a little bit of a challenge.

Avalon has started accepting the loss of "Mummy time", which is a great improvement on last week. And little Willow (or Wils as she is now nicknamed) is still too quiet to override the demands of Avalon at any other time other than feed time. So she's almost the silent but present member of our expanding family.

We had some friends over the other day, and with Avalon charging around the house and pulling knives down off benches and standing on VCR's, our friends hadn't had a chance to notice Willow sleeping soundly in the room. They asked us about half an hour into our conversation "so where's Willow?". To which we, bemused pointed to the wrapped, peaceful person in the basket on the couch. We laughed at how little attention she gets at the moment. But I know it won't be long before she demands her own "Mummy and Daddy time" and we'll be adjusting to a new situation all over again.

You have to be comfortable with flexibility. Parenting pushes you to have the most carefully planned day, which may need to be adjusted at any moment, depending on the children's response.

Tired days, boistrous days and just overexcited days change the well planned schedule, and you have to just fly with it, and not get too strung out about it. Some days I'll get a short nap, others I won't. And it is a challenge to not be resentful of these little beings who are too self involved to realise if they scream through sleep time, this means Mum is far more tired than normal for the remainder of the day.

But I totally adore looking after my children, and still find it a huge priviledge.

And having two to look after suddenly makes our house seem that much fuller. We're a much bigger family. Craig has his hands full most of the time, and so do I. But we're well aware of the fleetingness of youth. All too soon, these "chaotic" days will be far behind us when our kids are in school, learning from other people. And I know i'll look back at these days with fondness.

My contented newborn cuddles with Willow as she sleeps heavily on my chest. The look of understanding on Avalon's face when I talk her through one of her books. It's all so precious.

It's well worth doing hard things, like having children. Even when at the outset, you have no idea how it'll work.

The birth story series. Part 1.

I’ve come through it. It’s over, never to be repeated again. Thank God!
Birth number 2 is over with, and now I have a lifetime of enjoying our second daughter, Willow Alannah Hamilton.

I start out the birth story this way just to try to warn you. This is not a pretty piece of writing. 10 days into her little life and I’m already forgetting the sheer overwhelming ‘sensations’ of birth. Stupid hormones! No wonder we do this multiple times. We can thank God for his creation of oxytocin and other such blissful hormones created for us women in abundance during and following labour. Because I know that if I ever remembered the pain fully, then I’d definitely be reconsidering my “4 children, no less” policy that Craig is warming to. But I write this as a reminder to myself for next time to NEVER attempt this again without the most potent form of permissible drug administered by hospital staff and known to man.

See, my other two friends who birthed their second children just recently had some pretty decent birth experiences, as far as births go, anyway. So I was allowing myself to be hopeful, which is really all you can resign yourself to anyway, given that your body is again going to be thrown into the unrelenting and ever increasing pains of birth.

Unfortunately, even though this second child came faster than Avalon (8 instead of 16 hours of full-on labour) it was just as hard, and I think just as painful.

So- here’s the story from the start.

The days leading up to the birth were really difficult to live with. I felt as though my body was slowly shutting itself down, and with an active toddler now in my life, I felt that if Willow didn’t arrive soon, Craig would be off from work anyway, and I’d need bedrest until her arrival. My pelvis was in constant pain and my hip joints the same. I would get up from sitting down for no more than 5 minutes, and just breathe through the pain in my joints. Even though it was painful to stand, it was almost not worth having a rest to sit down, because of the agony that followed.

So I made a bold move. At my 39 week, 6 day appointment, I asked to be given a ‘cervical sweep’. This procedure was known to trigger labour by releasing natural hormones into your body to start it off. I won't go into details...

The midwife looked at me like I was crazy, but I begged her really and said that it worked for a friend of mine, and that I was in so much pain now, with constant prelabour and now this pelvis thing, that I wanted this precious gift out NOW (please). This was crazy painful for me, and I had to ask Craig to take the rest of the day off work, because I was useless to look after Avalon. I just wanted to collapse in a heap and moan softly to myself in self pity. Which I totally would have done, if I wasn't such a proud person.

The birth story series. Part 2.

It was 7am the following morning that my waters broke. No huge gush, but definitely unmistakenably, my waters broke. Every time I changed sitting position, I would gush again. It was more comfortable now to remain as upright as possible. I couldn’t have had a little “sleep” without flooding our bed, so, this was the most sleep I was now going to have until the baby arrived. And I got 2 ½ hours of it in between painful contractions that night, so I was already running on vapours.

We called my parents, and they came to look after Avalon. The morning was filled with me doing last minute cleaning and hospital bag packing, and Avalon squealing with delight at my parent’s play. I wish I could have stayed there until the birth itself. Unfortunately, I had a strep b infection, which 20% of women have, and it causes no harm to us, but to an unborn child can kill them if antibiotics are not administered throughout the labour. I’m just one of these unlucky women whose waters break at the start of labour instead of in the heat of the action.

So upon calling the hospital, I still had to be admitted even though labour hadn’t properly started. My contractions were 10-15 apart, some intense, some unnoticeable. This was prelabour. Again. Avy’s prelabour lasted 31 hours. I prayed for a faster one this time, and God was merciful. Only 16 hours with Willow!

I was cannulated, injected a couple of times with antibiotics, and left to my own devices to get this labour happening. We spent our time equally reading books, walking stairs and staying active to try to get the show on the road. Nothing exhausting, but enough just to jiggle this bub into the right position if something wasn’t aligned properly.

Craig was sent home once visiting hours were over for an early night, and I had a sleepless night ahead of me. Craig was woken at 11pm that night by a phonecall.

“Craig, it’s started”

“Oh ok, should I come now?”

The midwives didn’t believe me that labour had started. They’d told me to have a shower. I was all emotional. I wanted Craig with me, and I didn’t want to birth this baby alone in the shower. I’ve heard storied of how fast it can all happen, and having only 16 months between births, you just never know what your body’s going to do second time round.

“They won’t send me to labour ward. I don’t think they believe me. But I need you here, they’re really painful to get through without massage.”

Craig reassured me it’d be ok, to have the shower and then tell them again.

So I did. Instead of the shower helping them, they were now 8 minutes apart and QUITE painful. I had to breathe through the wave and use all my techniques I’d learnt to cope without collapsing in a heap.

The midwives finally listened to me, and one of them came to time them. By this time, they were now 5 minutes apart and growing in intensity with every one.

They told me to pack up, they were moving me down to the birthing suites.

Finally! How do you convince someone that you’re really labouring, when you’re not screaming in agony but breathing through the contractions? To an outsider, I must have looked too calm, so she dismissed me. I forgive her, even though at the time, this midwife was my mortal enemy, a barrier between myself and craig being together at this birth.

They transferred me to a lovely big room at about 12.30am Easter Saturday, so I called Craig again and told him to tally ho over, that we were now ready. He called my doula (birth assistant) on the way, and Willow was to be born that morning.

The birth story series. Part 3.

I was so incredibly relieved when Craig finally came through the door at 1.10am (yes- I was paying very close attention to my watch). We’d tried the bath, and the contractions spaced out, but it felt terrible being in there. The bath relieved the pain I was feeling in between the contractions, but it was awful for the contractions themselves. So I hopped out after about 3 contractions in there. It wasn’t working enough to relieve my back pain, which was far more severe than the pain in my abdomen during the height of the contractions. I needed some hands pushing on my back more than the relief of the water warmth. As soon as I stepped out of the bath, the contractions came thick and fast.

Craig had to lean into my back with his full weight while I held onto the bath sink and leaned myself on an angle back into them. And by the time my birth assistant showed, I wasn’t opening my eyes at all. The doula timed the contractions at every 3 monutes and tried massaging me herself, but Craig was much better at knowing where to push at this point, so she conceded to letting him do it a bit more before she took turns with him again.

For only going into real labour a couple of hours earlier, I thought that the pain was way too intense and too close together for me to cope very long without any relief from drugs, so I asked for the gas. Thankfully, the midwives did hook this up pretty quickly for me. I actually threw it away during a contraction early on because I swore to them that it wasn’t on. My doula insisted that it was, but I could tell no relief came from breathing it in, so I stood my ground until the midwives realised that no, it wasn’t working. They’d forgotten to turn on the switch that actually let out the gas with the oxygen.

What seemed like an hour passed (and it probably was) when I finally decided now was epidural time. The gas gave me such a spin out, and I decided that I wanted to push this baby out in my right mind. I wanted to be able to see this baby be born. And I also didn’t want to feel like I was dying. So I told Craig that now was the time, and that if I ask for it now, then when it’s unbearable and I can’t talk, hopefully it’ll be in and working.

Craig got the midwives informed of my decision, and they told me it was all in motion. The epidural was coming. Thank the Lord!