Georgiezine

It is hard, waiting. It is hard because you worry that until the baby is born, he isn't safe yet. Until he has been born and taken his first breath and cried, you won't feel safe. I was reading today someone else's labour story-for second child and how they had to wait "a few minutes" to hear baby cry, whilst the paediatrician resuscitated it. The baby's agpar score was critical initially and it was 5 minutes before it was satisfactory. Five long minutes. The fear feelings were compounded by reading of Lily Allen's stillbirth, at 6 months. Every parents fear, and you do feel as though once you make it out of first trimester, you are safe. Yet I knew too, that it is a long journey-my colleague lost her child at 30 weeks. Against that, it is natural to want to deliver the baby as soon as possible. On the other hand, this baby is kicking and breatheing happily. I've had two CTGs over the past 3 days, both good. He isn't even incredibly overdue-for a f...

On Thursday I had the all clear from genetics testing. For the past 6 weeks I had been worrying and worrying about my baby-fearful for the worst, guilty for fearing this and feeling as though I was betraying the small person growing inside of me. I still feel sadness sometimes, for those days when I couldn't love the baby enough, or I neglected the baby because I was so worried. My husband was amazing-truly heroic and it has made us appreciate the commitment that we have. I feel as though we can face just about anything, and our child is going to be lucky to have us. On a lighter note, we babysat my 8 and 10 year old nephews. This involved feeding them, cleaning up after their escapades with the stick blender making milkshakes, being awake at 6am whilst they joined us in bed and jumped all over us, taking them out to the markets for an express lunch, getting quizzed by Womens & Children staff for our willingness to let them play unsupervised in the playground for 40 minutes dur...

My bike panniers fell off my bike this evening. For a couple of hours I didn't know if it would be handed in. Cancelling cards and contacting people to make arrangements to spend two weeks annual leave without plastic had me in a spin. It all worked out: I am lucky lucky lucky.  Unfortunately neither me nor my partner lives in a place with a bath. But fortunately all that is changing now that A has become the brand new owner of a house that needs some work but comes with it's own BATH! It's a slightly retro pink bathroom, but he's currently feeling very masculine at the moment having a) bought a house and b) fired someone for not doing their job properly. I have also had a big wake up reminder of mortality. First, a person whose blog I read occasionally but regularly, had neurosurgery (there was a blog update explaining absence), then today I received an email to find out a Tas colleague died on the weekend and another has been missing since Australia Day weekend and fo...

As I was waiting for my yoga friend to pick me up tonight, I got a call from my specialist. Without going into too many details here, she told me to get a CT scan to assess whether I have a benign tumour. She knew my background well enough to not use metaphors or worry me uncessarily, and I agreed to continue the diagnostic process, and in fact was quite impressed that she'd reviewed and identified a minor detail skipped by everyone else. However, I then allowed myself, for a minute or so, to imagine the worst case scenario. For the most part I was committed to believing that the best thing I could do for my health is commit to methods that reduce and minimise stress. So I streched and breathed at yoga. But when we were lying in yoga nidra I imagined for myself a worst case scenario that involved me having the worst case treatment I could imagine. I even embellished the details to the point that I imagined the sense of relief of hitting rock bottom and only being able to go up. It ...