My due date was 23rd January, and at my antenatal appointment the midwife scheduled an induction for the 29th assuming I didn't have the baby before then. Despite being generally adverse to medical intervention, I agreed. I was just so happy to have a definite end date, a resolution to all of the waiting. I went into hospital at 7:30am on Tuesday 29th January 2013. I was stressed - we were running 5 minutes late. As absurd as it sounds, running late stresses me out. I was upset that Shane had let that happen. They saw us into a room where we waited. Eventually I was hooked up to a monitor for Miwdife Diane to check baby's heartbeat. Then they conducted an internal examination and confirmed I was 1cm dilated. They applied a dose of Prostaglandin gel to encourage things along, and from then I was offically admitted to hospital and assigned a room in the maternity ward. We hung out for awhile and watched some tv on my laptop, then went downstairs to have a coffee and snack. Upon our return to my room Midwife Jane hooked me up to a monitor to check my progress and Eli's heartrate. All going well. "Do you want to have this baby tonight or tomorrow?" she asked me. "As soon as he wants to come!" I replied. "In that case, let's get you expressing!" She got me started and At 2pm Diane came to take me back to the labour ward to check on progress. I'd progressed nicely so they decided no need to dose me again, and back to the maternity ward I went. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication between the staff that wasn't apparently until later in the evening. The staff on maternity thought I'd been given more prostaglandin and that the pains I was having were "fake pains", when in fact I had not been given anymore and my labour was simply progressing. They made Shane go home when visiting hours ended - they did let him stay an extra 30minutes, but then decided he had to go. Which sucked. When he was there I was fine, he would help me stand during contractions which made the pain ok, but then I'd lie down in between and rest. Once he was gone, the midwifes/nurses kept trying to make me stay in bed "and rest". Because what every labouring woman wants is to lie alone, in the dark, in a strange place, scared and frightened and in pain? As much as I loved the day staff, I loathed the night staff. One midwife in particular was a very unpleasant lady who seemed inclined to think I was a pathetic wuss. It took me timing my contractions (hard when in pain) to convince her to check me again, at which point she finally agreed yes I was kind of progressing. She then allowed me to walk the corridors rather than being confined to bed. How gracious.
I got as far as the staffroom door, where I had a violent, lengthy contraction that resulted in me vomiting all over the floor. Staff came running. The labour ward midwife was basically "WTF?" and the labour ward b*tch was all "Well she wants to come over to you anyway!" so the labour ward midwife said "Sure no problem" and let me go to the labour ward and have a nice shower. It was heavenly. I would happily have stayed under the water except that being alone I was concerned about slipping or passing out, so eventually I got out. The nice midwife gave me some morphine and put me to bed, it now being the wee early hours of the morning. She suggested we wait until later to call Shane as at that point we may as well let him sleep longer. I reluctantly agreed that was best. And I got a teeny bit of sleep in between the pain which was great!
At 6am approximately I felt a loud pop and my waters broke. I was so proud! Hehehe. Then they called Shane. They did a check and unfortunately I was still not very far along. At that point I made a strategic decision. I had had only a couple of hours of sleep, after 24 hours in hospital. My concern was labouring all day, but being too tired to push. So I asked for an epidural. The funniest part of that was at this particular time my contractions weren't particularly painful and were manageable. It was definitely part of a long-game. It meant I slept for 6 hours (bliss!) got my rest. Poor Shane hadn't bothered to bring his PSP or any other entertainment as he'd assumed it would be a long day with me, instead he spent the day chilling on the couch while I slept. I was in bliss. They then switched off the epi, waited for it to wear off, and then let me start pushing. So I still got to "enjoy" the full birthing experience. Lucky me! They did realise that they had possibly turned it off too soon as I had full feeling but oh well..... I didn't mind the pain of pushing or the baby coming out, but the back pain was agonising and excruciating. Sadly whenever I tried to move positions they lost the baby's heartbeat on the monitor, so I was stuck on my back in full 1950s style out of control labour position, like some chump with no control. There I was, attached to drips and all sorts of rubbish. But I did push that baby out, and it was awesome.
So definitely decisions made that I had not anticipated, but made for a reason to respond to specific circumstances that I found myself in.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Story of Us
When we married, Shane and I always knew we'd have children. He said he thought 5 years after we married would be ideal - time to settle down, get finances together, that type of thing. I secretly wouldn't have minded a little bit earlier, but I also knew he was correct and sensible in his logic. As it happened, my various health concerns, followed by our relocation overseas, would have made it unpractical in any case.
When we finally did fall pregnant, it was after several years of work to resolve my health problems. At which point we decided to just see what would happen. We weren't in any rush, but didn't want to tempt fate by waiting too long. Just to be on the safe side, after a few months we consulted a fertility specialist just to get things underway. He ran some tests and SURPRISE - I was already pregnant! That baby wasn't Eli, that baby was Jaxon who passed away from foetal heart failure at 15 weeks gestation. We were so sad, but in a way that experience meant we knew for sure how much we wanted a baby. We were ready.
When I found out I was pregnant with Eli I was a basket case. I took a pregnancy test which was positive, but didn't tell Shane. I told him there was a "chance" I might be pregnant, but I didn't want to jinx anything. This song and dance continued for days until he finally insisted on me taking a test. What followed was a crazy period of uncertainty - I was adamant that we shouldn't get our hopes up, it might not last. On the other hand, I'd then get irrationally upset with Shane for not acting happy, when he was simply mirroring my own reaction.
But Eli did last. One scan. Two scans. Every medical appointment where I'd hear his tiny heartbeat I was filled with joy. That would last a week, after which I would start to despair again - was everything ok in there? How could I be sure?
Third scan at 20 weeks. "There's his little penis" said the ultrasound technician. We looked at each other and smiled.
On the way home Shane commented "Well that's good news!"
"What's good news?" I said innocently, knowing full well what he meant.
"It's a boy!" he said.
"And why is that such good news?"
"Because I couldn't handle two Natalie's!"
Of course, after a few weeks we started to question the results of that scan, and weren't confident until our fourth scan that the technician was correct.
Finally in the later stages I became more excited. This was real. This baby was really coming. Our lives would never be the same.
When we finally did fall pregnant, it was after several years of work to resolve my health problems. At which point we decided to just see what would happen. We weren't in any rush, but didn't want to tempt fate by waiting too long. Just to be on the safe side, after a few months we consulted a fertility specialist just to get things underway. He ran some tests and SURPRISE - I was already pregnant! That baby wasn't Eli, that baby was Jaxon who passed away from foetal heart failure at 15 weeks gestation. We were so sad, but in a way that experience meant we knew for sure how much we wanted a baby. We were ready.
When I found out I was pregnant with Eli I was a basket case. I took a pregnancy test which was positive, but didn't tell Shane. I told him there was a "chance" I might be pregnant, but I didn't want to jinx anything. This song and dance continued for days until he finally insisted on me taking a test. What followed was a crazy period of uncertainty - I was adamant that we shouldn't get our hopes up, it might not last. On the other hand, I'd then get irrationally upset with Shane for not acting happy, when he was simply mirroring my own reaction.
But Eli did last. One scan. Two scans. Every medical appointment where I'd hear his tiny heartbeat I was filled with joy. That would last a week, after which I would start to despair again - was everything ok in there? How could I be sure?
Third scan at 20 weeks. "There's his little penis" said the ultrasound technician. We looked at each other and smiled.
On the way home Shane commented "Well that's good news!"
"What's good news?" I said innocently, knowing full well what he meant.
"It's a boy!" he said.
"And why is that such good news?"
"Because I couldn't handle two Natalie's!"
Of course, after a few weeks we started to question the results of that scan, and weren't confident until our fourth scan that the technician was correct.
Finally in the later stages I became more excited. This was real. This baby was really coming. Our lives would never be the same.
The Story of the Story of Eli
Today is 3rd February, 2013, and it is Little Eli's 4th full day in our lives. Eli's birth has made me more conscious than ever of my own mortality. For somebody who was acutely aware of this from a young age, this is a daunting prospect. I look at the small child lying in his bouncer, and the circle of life is clear. He will grow up. I will grow old. One day we will all be gone from this earth. And what will be left? Nobody knows. All I know is I want to live my life with joy and fulfillment. And so begins the Story of Eli.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
I'm a Big Ole Meanie!
I don't really need a hug, I can manage, but I would *love* some commiseration.
I'm a senior manager. But at the end of the day, there's not some magic separation between staff and management - it's just the role we fulfill and what's expected of us, not who we are. I understand how the managers I have had over the years have felt now.
I have a newish employee who is very, very young. We deliberately wanted a junior, somebody who had the right skills and some basic experience, but who we could mold and shape. We also wanted some young energy into a company where we all work insanely hard and are passionate about what we do.
She is driving me insane. She is the truly cliche i-Gen. She plays with her iphone and texts her friends constantly. She tries to chat at length about personal issues with me when I'm in the middle of important tasks. She gets stuck on a task she's been given and instead of coming to ask me she just leaves it until I come to check in with her - which might be awhile if I'm busy. (Everytime she does come to see me she starts with "I'm so sorry to bother you..." so I think she genuinely thinks the right thing to do is wait). The thing is, she actually does a great job when she applies herself. There's certain tasks I've given her that she's gone ahead and done perfectly. She had picked up our complicated computer system fast. So I'm actually happy with her overall. She just needs to focus more and work a lot faster. She was great at first when I had heaps of training time with her, but now it's been a couple of months I have to focus on other very important aspects of my job and can't devote everyday to her.
The level of micromanagement required is driving me insane. But I still think she has potential. I just feel like a big ole meanie having to send stern emails or have serious talks about her commitment and focus. Argh.. :( Nobody wants to be that person! don't get me wrong, I'm doing it - I'm doing what's needed. I think it's fair to her to ensure she's redirected appropriately, the last thing I want is for her to be blindsided by any of this. I'm clear on expectations. And we have good communication, and so far she is actually responding well to feedback and working hard to improve. But despite it all, I'm fairly certain she tells her friends what a mean boss I am. Monday I'm in meetings so don't have time to supervise closely, so I've sent her an email with a fairly strict list of tasks she needs to do, and also reminded her that it is completely inappropriate to be playing with her phone etc when she still has work to finish. So I feel bad as I know she is about to walk into work tomorrow and be very surprised (she has a very cruisy attitude). Ah well, tough love. Perhaps it's preparing me for parenthood!
I'm a senior manager. But at the end of the day, there's not some magic separation between staff and management - it's just the role we fulfill and what's expected of us, not who we are. I understand how the managers I have had over the years have felt now.
I have a newish employee who is very, very young. We deliberately wanted a junior, somebody who had the right skills and some basic experience, but who we could mold and shape. We also wanted some young energy into a company where we all work insanely hard and are passionate about what we do.
She is driving me insane. She is the truly cliche i-Gen. She plays with her iphone and texts her friends constantly. She tries to chat at length about personal issues with me when I'm in the middle of important tasks. She gets stuck on a task she's been given and instead of coming to ask me she just leaves it until I come to check in with her - which might be awhile if I'm busy. (Everytime she does come to see me she starts with "I'm so sorry to bother you..." so I think she genuinely thinks the right thing to do is wait). The thing is, she actually does a great job when she applies herself. There's certain tasks I've given her that she's gone ahead and done perfectly. She had picked up our complicated computer system fast. So I'm actually happy with her overall. She just needs to focus more and work a lot faster. She was great at first when I had heaps of training time with her, but now it's been a couple of months I have to focus on other very important aspects of my job and can't devote everyday to her.
The level of micromanagement required is driving me insane. But I still think she has potential. I just feel like a big ole meanie having to send stern emails or have serious talks about her commitment and focus. Argh.. :( Nobody wants to be that person! don't get me wrong, I'm doing it - I'm doing what's needed. I think it's fair to her to ensure she's redirected appropriately, the last thing I want is for her to be blindsided by any of this. I'm clear on expectations. And we have good communication, and so far she is actually responding well to feedback and working hard to improve. But despite it all, I'm fairly certain she tells her friends what a mean boss I am. Monday I'm in meetings so don't have time to supervise closely, so I've sent her an email with a fairly strict list of tasks she needs to do, and also reminded her that it is completely inappropriate to be playing with her phone etc when she still has work to finish. So I feel bad as I know she is about to walk into work tomorrow and be very surprised (she has a very cruisy attitude). Ah well, tough love. Perhaps it's preparing me for parenthood!
Saturday, February 4, 2012
911
Such an odd thing. Earlier today, I was watching and old movie that happened to remind me of 9/11. The movie was The Towering Inferno. Usually I find old movies fairly poor overall in terms of scripts and content, but this movie is deserving of it's Oscar nomination.
When I watch tv, I almost always end up googling. I can't help myself. Sometimes I have the tv on, my laptop on my knee, and am looking up other things on my iPhone at the same time. My mind is a constant train of thought, and being able to satisfy those thoughts with research is very enjoyable for me. So here is how my train of thought went:
Hmm, rescuing people from levels above the fire, interesting
At the twin towers, lots of people were trapped but there wasn't time to be rescued.
I don't remember who those people were - which company was on the *top* floor?
Hence, I googled "The World Trade Center". When a website for the WTC came up, my immediate thought was "Oh wow, they kept the site up as a tribute all of these years, how amazing!" Only to realise that no, it's a site advertising the "new" WTC and looking for tenants. So I went to Wikipedia instead. And read through the entire history of the WTC. And surprisingly, as I neared the end, I suddenly realised that I was crying.
I wasn't in the US at 9/11, nor were any of my loved ones taken from me. In fact, I have never personally been to the US (yet). I would never presume to understand what people have been through. Everybody's experience is to a varying degree, and so many people were impacted by that event.
That night is so vivid to me. My Dad was flying out to the US on a business trip, and he needed either my brother or I to drive him to the airport (we were both in high school and had both just got our licences). So instead of going to bed or watching tv, we sat up late around the table talking while waiting to leave. Suddenly he gets a phone call, leapt up, and running towards the living room told us what had happened. This was in between #1 and #2.... so we flicked on the tv and were watching when the second happened. I stayed up all night that night in front of the news.
When I watch tv, I almost always end up googling. I can't help myself. Sometimes I have the tv on, my laptop on my knee, and am looking up other things on my iPhone at the same time. My mind is a constant train of thought, and being able to satisfy those thoughts with research is very enjoyable for me. So here is how my train of thought went:
Hmm, rescuing people from levels above the fire, interesting
At the twin towers, lots of people were trapped but there wasn't time to be rescued.
I don't remember who those people were - which company was on the *top* floor?
Hence, I googled "The World Trade Center". When a website for the WTC came up, my immediate thought was "Oh wow, they kept the site up as a tribute all of these years, how amazing!" Only to realise that no, it's a site advertising the "new" WTC and looking for tenants. So I went to Wikipedia instead. And read through the entire history of the WTC. And surprisingly, as I neared the end, I suddenly realised that I was crying.
I wasn't in the US at 9/11, nor were any of my loved ones taken from me. In fact, I have never personally been to the US (yet). I would never presume to understand what people have been through. Everybody's experience is to a varying degree, and so many people were impacted by that event.
That night is so vivid to me. My Dad was flying out to the US on a business trip, and he needed either my brother or I to drive him to the airport (we were both in high school and had both just got our licences). So instead of going to bed or watching tv, we sat up late around the table talking while waiting to leave. Suddenly he gets a phone call, leapt up, and running towards the living room told us what had happened. This was in between #1 and #2.... so we flicked on the tv and were watching when the second happened. I stayed up all night that night in front of the news.
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