Diary of a Second Time Mum - Despite What the Scientists Say, Lightning Can Strike the Same Place Twice!!

Diary of a Second Time Mum is my way of staying connected with the outside world as I experience the motherhood journey for a second time in 5 years. I hope to share with you the highs, lows, fun and learnings along the way in a weekly post!

Dear Diary

We welcomed our gorgeous son into the world on Tuesday 24th June at 3.59am. Here's how it unfolded ....

Monday was spent taking it easy as I felt off-colour with an upset tummy. Early night in our house however sleep was evasive.

After experiencing some tightenings and a show just after midnight I called the hospital to see what I should do. They said to come up and get checked out. I called Mum at 1am in the morning to come and watch Miss Almost 5. Once she arrived we drove off slowly into the thick, heavy fog for what appeared to be the slowest trip to Rocky on record.

Arriving at the hospital just after 2am,  I was checked out and the Doctor said I was fully dilated  and the calmest fully dilated woman he'd seen in quite awhile. Being the middle of the night and no surgical team available he advised that I should try for a natural delivery. I freaked out a bit and he proceeded to do a scan to confirm the position of our baby.

He almost fell off his chair when he found our boy to be in the breech position. My partner and I looked at each other with relief, at least we'd found out now. Then I started asking questions..... what are the chances of having 2 undiagnosed breech births? According to some fancy numbers I've read online since there's a 1% chance for a first born being breech (higher chance for girls) and about a 7% chance of subsequent pregnancies also being breech.

Phone calls were quickly made and a surgical team called in. By 3am, we were in theatre. I managed to remain calm and relaxed, which had been the mantra of my hypnobirthing for c section audio that I had been dutifully listening to a couple of times a day.

Even though I was booked in for a c-section on Wednesday and this was unfolding before me in an unexpected way, I felt a sense of calm and being in control. Like this time around I knew what to expect and was glad that we would get to meet our guy a  little sooner; that this was the safest choice for us.

At 3.59am our little man appeared above the screen. There's nothing quite like that moment when they hold your baby up for your first look. He was taken away to be checked out and was soon laid on my chest for our first snuggles.

Back on the ward after being stitched up and spending some time in recovery, it was time to snuggle and cuddle more with the new man in my life. I fell in love instantaneously. I just can't put into words the feelings of love that came when I looked at his cute-as-a-button face.

Miss Almost 5 came for a visit with Granny & Poppy - keen to meet her new brother. After a few cuddles and kisses, she was eager to head back to kindy to tell the other kids all about him. She's been waiting so long for him to arrive.

After our visitors left for the day, the nurse came and got me out of bed for a shower. At first I was a little surprised to be up and about so soon, now I am very grateful.  I feel fantastic and my recovery this time round has been smooth sailing. Now I can advocate how important your mindset and beliefs are and how much they impact on our experiences in life.

I will sign off for now. It's my intention to post once a week in some form or another using this platform.

Until next week,

Take care, keep smiling and be grateful for all the blessings in your life right now.

Love

Shanelle

Am I Being Precious or Are Professionals Lacking Compassion These Days?

Working as a travel consultant in various capacities over the past six years has kind of worn down my passion for travel to places like New Zealand, Fiji and Bali. It's like walking into McDonalds and ordering a plain cheeseburger. Not very exciting and quite run of the mill when it's your 10th request for the day.



It took me awhile to realise that it wasn't about me when  a client came in to enquire about these kinds of destinations. I had no idea how long they'd been saving for their holiday, that this was their first family holiday and they thought they could take their family of 5 for 7 days for under $3000.

That was before I learned to ask them their story. To take the time to find out why they were going and what their expectations where, to connect with them as humans and to build a relationship with them so that booking their holiday became part of their whole experience.

Once I had gleaned this information from them and established a working relationship, I was able to get excited for them and the plans they had to help breathe life into them. If their expectations were unrealistic, it gave me a pivotal point to return to and be able to remind them why they were wanting what they were wanting. The connection we built showed them that I cared and they were not just another number to be recorded in my KPI's at the end of the day.

Recently, I've had an experience of the shoe being on the other foot. It's been with my obstetrician (the joys of going via the public health system). No matter how I look at it, I am really struggling with the lack of relationship, rapport and compassion that emanates from this man who appears to be in his 70's and the fact that I am purely another number to him (completely my own interpretation of events).

I get the fact that seeing pregnant women day in and day out is the norm for him. However, this is my second viable pregnancy, with a significant amount of years between the two; I want to feel special and cared for when I see a health care professional. My experience has not been a one-off either. For each of the 3 appointments I've had, it's been the same.

On the first visit, I was with him all of 5 minutes. He asked whether I was wanting a natural birth or c-section. I said I was leaning towards a schedule c-section based on past experience. He told me I would heal much quicker if I had a natural birth and that a decision would be made at 36 weeks. End of conversation. No room for discussion.

On the second visit, he asked the question again; to which I gave the same response. This time he asked what had happened and I told him a few of the details. I didn't feel at all comfortable and in some way was feeling guilty for the experience I'd had with Number 1. He repeated that I would heal much faster if I had a natural birth. End of conversation again.

On the 3rd visit, he asked if I was still wanting a c-section (after checking baby's heart and telling me I had a big baby - what the?) to which I replied yes, based on what's happened before I would prefer this option. His response was that he would go and book me a date. End of conversation. Discussion = nil. Rapport built = nil. Comfort with interaction = nil.

I've looked at this from every angle I can think of and yet there's something  that really pisses me off. I know that I have no control over how he has chosen to act in this situation. I am only able to control my response and the meaning I choose to give to this strange encounter. It's given me an opportunity to conduct my own research, speak to other mums and health professionals to seek their opinions and thoughts. So in a sense, it's allowed me to educate myself on a much greater level, rather than relying on the opinion of one so-called medical professional.

As I sign off for now, I'd like to leave you to ponder and mull over the following, leave a comment and let's start a conversation around this:

* Where in your life are you treating things as 'run of the mill' rather than unique experiences and opportunities?
* If you are stuck in a rut and running on autopilot, what could you do to add some excitement and fun back into your life?
* If you've been on the receiving end of someone else's lack of compassion, what did you do to turn the situation around?

Until next we meet - take care and continue to be your amazing & awesome self xxx

Journey of a Lifetime

Have you ever planned a holiday to some exotic location? Your tickets are booked. You’re busily reading everything you can get your hands on about your dream destination. You daydream. You fantasize. You imagine what it will be like to be somewhere you’ve never been before – to hear a different language, make an attempt to speak the language, to try different food and to experience a different culture. You’ve talked to your friends who been there before you and gotten their advice about the hot spots, the do’s, the dont’s. You’re pumped. Suitcase is packed. You’ve got your passport, your ticket and your hopes and dreams are pinned on this adventure of a lifetime. You are filled with anticipation, hope, excitement and curiosity.

There are some things in life you just can’t prepare for. It doesn't matter how much you research or how many books you read or how many other people you talk to who have been through the same experience, you just can’t prepare for becoming a mother. You also can’t walk down the street pregnant without a stranger offering some random advice and throwing in their two cents about what’s right and what’s wrong when it comes to motherhood and childbirth.

No two birthing experiences are ever the same. We are all unique as individuals, our bodies built perfectly for us. The birthing manuals can’t possibly cover it all. Well if they did, it would probably be a 24-volume encyclopedia version, and what mum-to-be has time to read that while she’s busy preparing for the arrival of her precious bundle. That same precious bundle that’s destined to turn her life and her world upside down and inside out, and not just during the birthing process, but potentially for the next 18 years or so as the bundle goes through the various stages of development and growth.

No book or conversation I had with anyone around pregnancy, motherhood or giving birth could have possibly prepared me for the experience I encountered when my beautiful girl came into this world 4 years ago. I was ready for her. I had wanted children for a very long time. I had natural maternal instincts. I believed that motherhood was my destiny and my future would see me as a stay-at-home mum raising a brood. My pregnancy was like a dream. No morning sickness for me. Everything was like clockwork, all according to the books and magazines ( the couple that I read) !

I remember at my 37-week check up with my GP, she told me that baby’s head was engaged and we were ready to go. I also remember at my 38-week check up with the new, young obstetrician at the hospital that he had some doubt as to whether or not the head was in fact engaged. At the time I laughed at him, mainly because :

a)      He was young and male

b)      I trusted my female GP implicitly

For whatever reason, he eventually concluded that things were as they should be and sent me home to wait out our impending, and much-anticipated arrival.

So I did. Everything was washed. Everything was set up. Everything was ready to go. All we needed was our baby. At ten past midnight on my due date, my waters broke. Off to the hospital we went. I had no labour pains at this stage and when the nurse checked me out at hospital she was going to send me down to the ward to see if anything was going to happen, except there weren’t any spare beds.  There was however a vacant birthing suite, so off we went to “see what happened”.

At 5.30am, I turned to my partner and told him I was ready to push and to find a midwife, they’d been few and far between. He looked at me like I was some crazy woman, but off he went nonetheless. When he returned with the midwife, she gave me the same crazy look, said she’d check things out to see what was going on.  She confirmed that I was indeed ready to push.

Nothing I had read, heard or talked about prepared me for what was to come. After some pushing it was confirmed that my baby was in the breech position. I was offered a c-section or to keep pushing to have a natural birth. My partner chose the second option, as I’d expressed my beliefs around c-sections. It was only to happen if it became a life or death situation.  
Pushing again and passing the time limit, without a baby, I was told that I hadn’t gotten very far, despite the midwives having convinced me I was about to give birth any minute.

I was whisked down to theatre for an emergency c-section, one leg hanging in the air as I was wheeled through the corridors and into the lift. In theatre, I was awake and conscious of what was going on. I don’t remember much of the actual process. I recall some tugging at my stomach and the doctor pulling our baby out and taking her to the observation table.  A reassuring cry came from our baby. The doctor came over, without telling us if we’d had a boy or girl (we were leaving it as a surprise), to inform us that there was something wrong with the baby’s leg and they’d need to investigate.

In that moment, I told myself that I was a failure. I wasn’t even good enough to get making a child right. I carried that with me for a very long time! It was all my fault. I was a failure. I wasn’t good enough. I was so disappointed in myself and felt like I’d let my partner down. I took that one moment and made it mean the end of the world in my mind. I could have chosen to be grateful for the fact that my child was otherwise healthy and well. After all, all of her limbs were intact and she was perfect in every way.

As humans, we tend to focus on the tiny negative aspect, rather than the more abundant positives that surround us. Focussing on the negative is to our detriment. I didn’t know any better at the time! I do now and so make conscious choices on a daily basis to be grateful, to focus on the positives, to live in the moment and to appreciate the little things. There is no guidebook for life. There is no rule book set in stone. Life is for living. Life is for making mistakes. Life is for breaking and bending the rules. Life is for figuring it out. Life is for making it happen. Lighten up. Live in the moment. Love your life for who you are and the experiences that have shaped the wonderful person you are today.