Tuesday, July 31, 2007

The Birth of Aidan Michael

The Birth of Aidan Michael

Having already had 3 Cesareans, the last one being a homebirth transport, I was at a loss for what to do in the way of birth plans with this pregnancy. What I really was hoping for was to find someone who could take a look at my medical records with me (including mention of my ‘markedly thin lower uterine segment’, my ‘narrow pubic arch’, my ‘single-sutured uterine closure’, my ‘incisional hernia’ and whatever else labels I had worried myself about) and talk with me about the risks and the benefits of having another Cesarean vs. having a homebirth. I spent a lot of hours praying and asking God to please instill in me the wisdom to know what His will was for this birth and this baby. I quickly ruled out a hospital vbac, knowing that it wasn’t an environment where I could labor effectively or feel comfortable in; therefore, I really wasn’t interested in pursuing it as an option. This left me with the options of having another Cesarean or birthing my baby at home. I called around, talked to various midwives, and got a referral to a DEM who had gone back to osteopathic school to become a doctor, opened her own birth center, and still did home births as well (along with having a family practice). She was in a very rural community 3 hours away and I decided to make the trek down to see her. The minute I met her, it was an instant “click” and I knew that I wanted her involved in my birth in some capacity. As she listened to the stories of my previous Cesareans, she said to me with tears in her eyes, "There is nothing wrong with your pelvis, your uterus, or any other part of your body. What you need is to be left alone while you labor. You need to feel free to do whatever you need to do without anyone watching you. Your assignment is to figure out what you need in order to feel uninhibited and to birth this baby." I thought a lot about that in the subsequent months, and came to realize that she had hit the nail on the head, and what I needed in order to feel safe was to be left alone to do the work of labor, to not feel watched, or timed, or scrutinized in any way. I also knew that I definitely wanted Sarita to be a part of this journey, so I hired her, knowing that she could only come if it was on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday. I interviewed several other midwives in the area. I ended up hiring another midwife, Donna, as my primary attendant. The thing that most attracted me to her was that her philosophy could really be summed up in two words: Birth Works. I don’t think I have ever met another person who believes this as wholly and adamantly as Donna does. Funny thing is, from the time I hired them, I always had a feeling that neither of them would be there for the actual birth, but was hiring them for what they might be able to provide me along the way.

I woke up around 3:40am on April 3 to use the bathroom and found that my pajama pants were soaked and so was the bed. “Hmmm… that’s strange,” I thought. I wondered if my water had broken or if I was maybe having some weird dream about going to the bathroom and peed on myself. “But that is a LOT of liquid; I really don’t think I would pee my pants.” So I got up and walked to the bathroom and nothing was leaking out, and after all it was still another 5 days before my due date. I was expecting to go somewhere between 41-42 weeks like last time. So I changed my pants, laid a towel down on the bed and tried to go back to sleep. But I was soon hit with a pretty big contraction. I glanced at the clock and 5-6 minutes later, another one hit. They continued coming fairly regularly but were only lasting about 30 seconds. “Oh NO! Just like last time!” I thought and I started to cry, thinking this was surely the result of another malpositioned baby, even though I had worked so hard, and tried so hard to get this baby into the right position. I decided to go downstairs and read a couple of my most inspirational birth stories that I had saved for such an occasion. As I got up, a huge gush of fluid came out. Okay, now I knew I didn’t pee my pants that time. So I went to the computer room, and instead of reading birth stories, I decided I’d better finish the assignments I had due for school that week. I started typing term papers, breathing through contractions, and doing laundry all at once (such is the life of a mom I suppose). The contractions continued on for another 2 hours or so and when Steve got up for work, I told him that “today is the day” and he began setting up the birthing tub and cancelling meetings and such. Shortly thereafter, my contractions completely stopped. They didn’t just space out or become less intense. They were totally GONE! But I was actually thankful for the break, as it would allow me time to get the kids to school, get my assignments dropped off, and get some last minute errands done before labor geared up.

I called Donna and also Sarita (knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it since it was a Tuesday, but still wanted to let her know what was going on). Donna advised me to try to get some rest and eat well for what was to come. Nothing. Not another contraction all day long!! So I went to bed that night a bit discouraged and disappointed. I prayed that God would give me patience and faith to make it through this time of uncertainty. If there was one thing I didn’t prepare for it was PROM. I had worked on issues in my mind, such as going postdates, posterior baby, back labor, etc. etc. But never PROM; it just never entered my mind. I thought as long as I had maintained excellent nutrition, which I had, then my amniotic sac would be super strong, and my labor would surely not start with ROM. Wrong! So what could I do? I went on about my day as usual, then settled into bed early that night. Around 3am, I was awakened by a contraction, followed 5 minutes later by another, and another. They weren’t the kind that you can just ignore or sleep through. These required all of my attention and so I got up, got onto the birth ball and breathed and moaned. Steve heard me and woke up, asking what he could do. I told him I wanted him to get some sleep because we may have a long road ahead of us (little did I know). The contractions continued on for about 3 hours. And as the sun came up, they stopped, not another one.

I was still leaking fluid and it was filled with white substance, which I couldn’t figure out what it was, worried that perhaps I had a yeast infection or something. Donna came that afternoon and when I showed her the pad, she told me “That’s vernix.” “Vernix? From my baby?” Somehow this notion was just so exciting to me!! It meant there was really a baby in there. S/he seemed so close now that I was seeing his/her vernix. Wow!! Donna checked my vital signs, fetal heart tones, etc. and everything looked perfect. “Well, it certainly won’t be long now.” she said as she left. I look online to find that 90% or something like that of women go into active labor within 72hours of their water breaking, if left alone. That was so exciting and I began to wonder if it would be this afternoon, or tonight, or maybe even tomorrow. I asked my friend Clare & her husband to come stay in our basement until the birth, as she was my chiropractor / acupuncturist / photographer / moral support for the birth and I didn’t plan on doing it without her there! So the 72 hours passed and I was faced with what to do. Do I attempt to nudge things to get started? Sex is out, swimming is out, warm baths are out…ugh! Donna showed up on Thursday with a big bottle of castor oil, “just in case” I wanted to get things going. Was she starting to worry? Starting to doubt? It didn’t sound like it by her words, but why then, did she bring that castor oil with her? I decided that she just must not be used to patient women, and wanted me to have options. So I sat it up on top of the refrigerator, where I would take it down and look it over from time to time, but I knew that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was monitoring my pulse, temperature, and blood pressure every few hours during the day, as well as monitoring the baby’s heart rate and everything was perfect, solid as a rock. As I would pray for guidance, I would realize that I truly was okay with waiting, and Donna was okay too.

I continued to trudge along, day after day, wishing I had told NO ONE about my broken water, not even Donna or Steve or Clare. If I hadn’t, they would just be looking at me like a normal 40 weeks pregnant woman, but instead I felt like they were looking at me like a “watched pot” all of a sudden (which they all swear was my perception, not their feelings). Each night I would have regular contractions and each morning they would disappear. . On Friday afternoon I had my first (and only) bout of “daylight contractions” and they were incredibly strong, and all in the front around my scar area. This did worry me a bit at first, but soon I began to welcome them and to be thankful that at least it wasn’t all back labor like last time. Sarita came to spend the weekend with me that weekend, and she seemed okay with everything. I really think she thought I was going to have a baby that weekend; I was hopeful that I would too. It was Easter weekend. We had fun, pretending to be on a mountain vacation, talked a lot about my hopes and fears and worries and it was incredibly therapeutic. But…she left and still no baby. I still felt okay with waiting for this baby to emerge when the time was right.

I figured that Monday’s middle of the night labor episode would be the one that turned out to be the “real thing”, since the kids would be back in school from their spring break and I could concentrate on laboring. I was going on a week now with ruptured membranes, and had moments of complete panic and worry, but when I would stop and really sit with things for awhile and ask what I was being called to believe, I would have a real sense of peace that all was okay. It was a strange peace that I have never had about anything before. In the moments when I felt weak and was ready to take herbs, or drink the castor oil, or do the nipple stimulation, I would stop and ask myself if it was really the right path for me, and get a resounding NO. So I wouldn’t do it. The waiting was SO hard though, but still I was okay with waiting. At the times that I would be ready to give up and go sign in at the local hospital for a c/section, I would get a kind word or email, or showing of support from someone that would keep me going and remind me of what I was waiting for. The greatest gift from this experience was that I was able to see a hint of my strength even before “real” labor began. I was able to really get in touch with my body and what my needs and wishes were during all of this. I did do a lot of acupuncture in those days to get the baby lined up optimally, to keep me calm and in a good space, and to get my body prepared for a smoother, gentler labor when it did kick in.

The days went by slowly, each one longer than the one before. I was vigilant about monitoring my wellbeing, and the baby’s. I began to take antibiotics as a preventative measure, going into the second week. I haven’t ever been a big fan of antibiotics, but their use seemed prudent to me as the days wore on. I think this was the only hint of “intervention” I had during the process. I was beginning to grow impatient, but still I knew that waiting was better than any of the alternatives.


Saturday, April 14 rolled around, and while it seemed to be much like the previous 11 days, there was also something distinctly different about it, about me that day. The peace I’d been feeling for the previous weeks seemed to have dissipated; I was CRANKY! I was irrational, unreasonable, and just beside myself. I was thoroughly finished with being pregnant, was certain that this baby was just not going to come out without being cut out, and that I was surely broken. As Clare tried to convince me otherwise, and coax me onto the treadmill, or into some other sort of movement or motion to elevate my mood, I lost it. I told her how “I have done everything within my power to get this baby into a good position and try to get it to want to be born. I have done chiropractic and acupuncture every week for the past 9 months. I have meditated, I have visualized, I’ve talked to the baby, I’ve exercised faithfully, I’ve done OFP so much my knees are bruised, I just can’t to anymore. I can’t listen to you blaming me for not doing enough! I have had it. I am DONE! I am just DONE!! Why can’t you just admit that I am BROKEN? It is time for me to just throw in the towel and admit that my body is broken! My pelvis is messed up and I can’t birth this baby!” and with that I stomped off in a rage. All the while, she is going on about how that is not the truth and that she is NOT going to accept it, how I *know* it is not the truth and for me to stop sulking, snap out of it, and get back to focusing on truth.

After taking the afternoon off from everyone and spending the great majority of it sobbing and wailing and lamenting of how I was tired of being pregnant, I managed to pull it together that evening and went to church with the family. It was a nice service with songs that seemed to be chosen especially for me. I was able to ground myself once again and start to capture some of the peace that I felt was trying to elude me. By the end of the service around 8:00, I had made amends with my body, and had decided once again that everything was okay, that things were happening on the timetable they needed to be on and that I was okay to be pregnant for another few days, at least until after Tuesday, the new moon, and then I would re-evaluate (for some reason, it helps me to just take things a few days at a time). About 2 ½ hours later, around 10:30 while I was sitting in the living room talking with Steve and Clare, I was nailed with a contraction. “Oh boy, here we go again,” I thought, as it seemed that my stop-start labor was going to start again tonight, albeit earlier than usual. The contractions were coming every six minutes or so apart and were requiring my attention. They continued on as they had over the previous “labor episodes” in their pattern of 5-6 minutes apart, yet only lasting about 30 seconds each.

Around 1:00am, everyone decided to go to bed and I thought it would probably be best if I got some sleep too “just in case” this ended up lasting awhile. As soon as I lay down, however, the contractions became almost unbearable. I needed to be up on my feet and moving my hips to cope with them. So I got up and put on my MP3 player, already loaded with all of the music I had chosen for this labor. I started walking around the bedroom, lying over the birth ball between contractions. After a few more, I went downstairs and spent the next hour or so “dancing” through the contractions. At one point, I decided that I felt nauseous and it seemed like a good idea to force myself to throw up (ugh!). It actually did make me feel better, for whatever reason and I went back to the work of laboring. It was a beautiful spring night, so I decided to go out on the front porch and I wrapped up in a blanket on the wicker furniture. I would stand up during a contraction and move my hips around in large circles or figure 8’s, and turn up the “labor music” and breathe and moan as I felt the surge overtake me. Then between the contractions, I would turn the music off and sit quietly, enjoying the sound of the crickets and the brightness of the moon. I think it was at some point during my time outside that I realized “I think I might actually be in labor this time. It’s been over four hours now, and things do not seem to be going away, but getting more intense.” As soon as that thought entered my mind, an instant excitement filled the air, and I was almost giddy with anticipation. Here I was in the stillness of the night, laboring alone in peace and working beautifully through each of these contractions! It was as if I was dreaming and I started to cry & think to myself, “I have waited for so many years for this moment and it’s finally here!!”

As I stepped up the step to go back inside, I could literally feel the baby’s head moving down lower into my pelvis and feel my pelvic bones slowly stretching apart. The contractions became even more intense and immediately went to about 3 minutes apart. I started to feel a little panic rain over me, as I attempted to work through the contractions by holding on to a ledge in our kitchen that is about chest high and then letting my body just kind of “hang” from my arms. I was thinking back to how, in my last labor I wanted to be constantly leaning forward, whereas this time leaning forward was painful. I had to be upright, or almost leaning back, moving my hips around the entire time in order for the contractions to feel “right” (albeit VERY intense), rather than painful. I was thinking how some support would probably feel really nice right now, but I didn’t think I could make it up the stairs to wake Steve. So I continued on like this for…no idea how long…I’m guessing another hour or so, with thoughts of how thankful I was that the contractions were so much more in my front than in my back. I was certain now that this was the real deal and that sometime today I would meet my baby, although I was figuring it would probably be somewhere around dinner time.

Finally, at the end of a contraction (which now had gotten to be about 2 minutes apart), I literally bolted up the stairs as fast as my hugely pregnant self could carry me before another contraction hit. I burst into my bedroom and yelled “Steve, I’m in labor! Get up NOW!” Poor guy, a bit of a rude awakening for 3:45 in the morning!! I told him, “I think you’d better call Donna and let her know the contractions are 2 minutes apart, but only lasting about 45 seconds.” So he did, as I focused on a contraction and making it through, telling myself that it was the last one I would have to do without his support. “Donna wants to know if you are ready for her to come now.” “No, I just wanted her to be aware,” I said, surprising myself a bit by this response. So he hung up the phone and said, “She said okay, but please call back whenever they start lasting longer, or you feel like you are ready for her. She will come whenever you need her.” He then got to work filling up the birth tub, and I ordered him over to put pressure on my sacrum. “Harder…lower…2 hands…” I bark, as the contraction begins to feel as though it will consume me. After the contraction, he goes back to his work with the birthing pool, but no sooner does he get started that another contraction hits. “Steve, my back, please!” (Much to my (& everyone else’s) surprise, I was a very polite laborer). “LOWER! 2 HANDS! Horizontal, not vertical!” (direction of his hands). It was all I could do to eek out little 1-2 word phrases to express my needs at this point. This became our routine, he would press on my back, I would rotate my hips & do this strange thing with my arms, where I would shake them really fast through the contraction. Then it would end, he would go back to his ‘birth tub’ work and I would rest for a minute or so until the next contraction hit and we would slip back into our routine again. My state of mind seemed to be sort of hypnotic, where I became unaware of nearly everything around me, other than the powerful sensations coming through my body.

We continued on with the routine for probably 15-20? contractions, at which point I announce, “Uh oh!! I really am going to be sick!” and I rushed to the bathroom and started throwing up WHILE having a contraction. This was the only time during labor that I worried my uterus might rupture. There was such an incredibly strong, painful force seemingly going in 2 different directions in my body, with the vomiting and the contraction. It was almost more than I could take. After the contraction ended, I told Steve “I think you’d better call Donna back and tell her I’m throwing up. They say that can mean transition, but I’m sure I’m not in transition yet.” So he called her back and she said she would leave right away and be there in an hour. I then asked Steve to go down to the basement and wake Clare to come up. While he was gone, I had 2 more contractions that I had to find a way to cope with on my own, without our routine. I decided to sit on the toilet through those contractions and do the arm shaking thing (still no idea why I did this, but it felt right at the time). Those 2 contractions felt very ‘forced’ to me because I wasn’t able to swivel my hips the way I needed to. I was so relieved when he came back into the room and Clare too, and quickly got back into the routine over in the corner by my side of the bed, in a space so small that Steve could barely fit in there with me. But that is where I felt comfortable and secure. I would look around to make sure Clare was still in sight, grab hold of Steve, place my right leg up on this stool, keep my left knee on the ground, swivel my hips, shake my arms, and have Steve pressing firmly on my sacrum. My mind was just filled with such a feeling of strength and triumph and anticipation already, interspersed with moments of fear and doubt. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am doing this work of birthing my baby!” I would think, followed by “There is no way I can do this for much longer. The intensity of this is just ridiculous. Why would anyone want to do this?” As soon as I would begin to entertain such thoughts, I could feel Steve’s strong, protective hands back on my body in just the right way to re-center me and re-affirm that all is well.


Around an hour or 2 after we made the 4:30am call to Donna, the doorbell rang and a few moments after that, Ruth (the back up midwife) appeared at my bedroom door. “Why is she here? Where is Donna? What is going on?” were thoughts all running through my mind, but I wasn’t coherent enough to verbalize anything or really even to care much. I continued to stay deep, deep inside myself, deeper than I had ever gone before, doing this incredibly intense, difficult work. I later found out that Donna’s road had been flooded and she was having a hard time getting out of her driveway. Ruth asked how I was feeling and I gave her a look and a grunt. She started talking with Clare about what had been going on, how long, etc. etc. and I just pointed at them both and screamed, to which my loving husband translates into, “If you two want to talk, you need to step outside the door. She doesn’t want you talking right now.” I nod my head “yes that is right. Thank you.” and we got back to business.

It was strange really, looking back. Before Ruth arrived, I had no conscious awareness of anyone else in the room, or even the world. I had this concentrated belief that this was all within me, I was the ONLY one who could do this job. But then when she arrived, I began to get sidetracked and a bit panicky. I started looking to her to save me or something, asking her “Am I okay? Is everything alright?” to which she would reply, “Do you think you’re okay? Do you feel like everything’s alright?” and when I would ask, “What if I need to go to the hospital?”, she would reply “Do you feel like you need to go to the hospital?” and unfailingly turn all of my doubts and fears back onto me, and force me to go even deeper within myself and trust my instincts, to which I would immediately get an answer, “Of course I’m okay. I am birthing my baby” or “No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. Drugs sound mighty nice right now, but I am doing just fine without them.” At some point, Steve made the crazy suggestion that I might be more comfortable up on my bed for a few contractions (I think *he* would be more comfortable with me on my bed LOL). Up I went for one horrendous, terrifying, excruciating contraction. I started just SCREAMING! (up to this point, I had been moaning and making beautiful birth sounds during the contractions). After it ended, I couldn’t get off of that bed and back into my corner quickly enough. Then Ruth started blathering something about a blood pressure cuff, to which I snapped “Don’t know where it is. DON’T CARE!!”

At one point during my laboring, I could hear some rattling sounds over top of my music…the sound of a sterile glove being unwrapped. My body clinched up, I turned off the music, and I started crying like a big baby, “Oh please PLEASE no! I don’t WANT a vaginal exam. If it shows that I’m not making any progress, I will be SO disappointed. Please no!” Ruth answered, “Teresa, I’m not doing a vaginal exam. You sound very ‘pushy’ and I just want to place my hand down there underneath you to make sure there’s not a baby about to fall out onto the ground.” Uh…did she say “pushy”? Did she mean…does this mean…nah, can’t be…I don’t get to pushing. My body is broken and I give in way before any pushing starts. Fast forward another, probably 5? minutes or so (I had/have no concept of time whatsoever in this birth…I only know what time the first contraction came, what time everyone went to bed, and the times that I woke Steve up and had him call Donna, thanks to the phone bill). So 5 or so minutes later, I heard the crinkly sound again overtop of my music, “What are you doing? No! No exams! I am probably not dilating at all and I can’t hear that news. Please!! Please!!” I say, figuring I will only be setting myself up for huge disappointment. Again, she assured me that “Of course you’re dilating, you are pushing!” and she placed her hand underneath me to see if there is a baby head hanging halfway out because I sound like I’m pushing at the end of each contraction & it is impossible for another person to get back into this tiny space I’m in, particularly in this peculiar position with one leg up on the stool, one knee on the ground.

After that contraction, she asked if I would be willing to move out to the middle of the room, or into the birthing tub, or somewhere else (she is seeing that birth is imminent; I am not seeing it). “No, I like it here. I want to stay here.” Steve then picked up the stool I’d been leaning on and said “Come on, T. We’ll go to my side of the bed. There’s more room over there.” And so up I go. As I got halfway around the bed, I have a contraction in the middle of the room. It’s terrible, painful, scary! I feel so exposed and vulnerable! As soon as it ends, I rushed back into a corner on his side of the bed (which does have more space, but not much), “assume the position” that I have become so fond of, and turned my back to everyone else in the room. About that time, this unbelievable, out-of-nowhere, extraterrestrial-feeling compulsion invades every cell of my body and I feel every single inch of myself start to push and heave and thrust and work and groan. What on earth? And then a small voice inside my head says “Hey, I wonder if I’m pushing?” (Okay…so I’m a bit slow to figure things out).

I put my hand down and reach inside my and I feel the most indescribable, inexpressible, utterly beyond words sensation that my fingertips have ever felt. There it was, no more than an inch or 2 inside my body, my baby’s head. My. baby’s head. It was at that moment that I believed, wholly believed, for the first time since the scalpel made its first cut eleven years earlier, that I was going to give birth to my baby. I was capable, my body was perfectly made, my pelvis was adequate, my uterus was strong, and my baby was about to be born. I was suspended in this hazy, quasi-reality…the moment froze and a flood of emotions just rolled over me. I was caught between wanting to just stop everything right there and savor this most miraculous experience that I have ever been a part of and wanting to push with everything I had in me to get this baby out here and kiss his/her beautiful face and touch that squishy head with my chin and my lips and hold him/her close to me.

Eventually the latter won out and I started pushing with another contraction, all the while thinking “Well, I am almost 100% sure this baby is going to come out my butt. But there is not a thing I can do about it, but get it out.” I was remembering other women’s similar experiences on the ICAN list about pushing being “shockingly rectal” or something like that, and that gave me some comfort, but mostly I just felt like I didn’t really care if it did decide to come out my butt. Again, I put my hand down there and felt that amazing baby head, and someone asks “What are you doing? Why are you putting your hand down there?” “Because, there is a baby right there. It’s about to be born.” At this proclamation, the scurrying began, grabbing cameras and blankets and getting in position to hopefully get a hand on this baby, although as the midwife said, this had to have been the most difficult position for her to get in there and catch the baby, and to which I replied, “I really was unconcerned with your comfort or ease at that point.”

I laid my head down and rested and maybe even dozed for a few minutes while waiting for the next contraction. It was so quiet and so surreal to me right then. There was nowhere else in the world I would want to be, nowhere in the world was anything as important going on as this undertaking right here. As the contraction began to build, I raised my head, gathered up every ounce of anything I had and gave a huge push and felt this incredible sensation of the slippery, squishy head sliding through and out of my body, followed by the body. I looked up in my foggy haze and asked “What do I do now?” to which my darling husband quickly replies, “DON’T SIT DOWN!” LOL…the baby was right under me. Ruth calmly unwrapped the cord from his neck and handed him to me. “6:56a.m.” Clare announced. So he was born after about 8 ½ hours of active labor, 20 or so total hours of some intense prodromal labor, and nearly 2 weeks of ruptured membranes. I am SO thankful that it happened the way that it did and I got a lot of the ‘work’ out of the way as I went along. And also so thankful that I never had a vaginal exam so I never knew whether to be excited, frustrated, discouraged, etc. other than what my body told me to be.

I took him in my arms and the first thing I did was to thank him, “Thank you, thank you so much for doing this with me baby.” Then I turned to my husband and I have never seen such a look of awe and admiration and love in anyone’s eyes as I did in his at that moment, which probably mirrored what he say in mine. We just sat there for a moment and looked into each other’s eyes as I proclaimed, “We DID IT!!!! I did it!! I just pushed a baby out of my vagina. I really did it! I just can’t believe I did it!” I looked up and noticed another midwife, Martha, sitting by us. I didn’t even know she was there. Apparently she had arrived about 5-10 minutes before the birth. I continue to just ooh and aah and kiss and squeeze my baby and then it occurred to me that I had been calling the baby, “Baby Boy”. I didn’t even look to see if it was a boy. Oh no, what if it’s a girl, will she be traumatized? I quickly unwrapped the blanket and took a quick peek, “Oh, I KNEW you were a boy!!” and I started sobbing and just praising God with sheer joy and disbelief in my heart.

Someone helped me up onto the bed and I just laid there staring at my baby, all nestled up against my skin. I felt so warm and so full, so complete. Someone woke up the older kids, and my second son Evan came in and hopped up on the bed with us, meeting his new baby brother and having an image of ‘normal birth’ forever etched into his mind. About 20-30 minutes after the birth, Donna arrived and I got up and pushed out the placenta, got cleaned up a bit and hopped back into bed, where Clare soon served me the most delicious breakfast I have ever eaten in my entire life, of eggs, bacon, French toast, orange juice, etc. and I devoured every morsel of it. We chatted a bit with the midwives, to which one of my first questions to all of them was “What made you guys decide to take a chance on me? Why did you ever think I could do it?” and to which they each gave a variation of the same reply, “Of course you could do it. Why WOULDN’T we think you could do it?” Simple as that.

Please click here for a slideshow.. and to see the beautiful little boy himself.

ststire@aol.com (email address if you would like to email Teresa directly).

Monday, July 16, 2007

Nathaniel's birth

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Nathaniel Shaun
Was born in the early hours; 1.18 am on Friday 13th April 2007 at 36 Weeks & 2 Days gestation.
He weighed 8lb 6&1/2oz or 3805grams was 53.5cm long with a head circumference of 36cm. My midwife mentioned it was a 3 hour labour.
Nate was admitted to the Special Care Nursery after birth with Low Blood Sugar & a day later he presented with Jaundice. He was under lights for 48 hours.
He was finally released from the Special Care Nursery 1 week later on Friday the 20th April 2007.
Nate's original Estimated Due Date was 07.05.07.
My emotions during my pregnancy were very up and down but generally I loved being pregnant. I had always known I would love it as I feel it is the most amazing thing on earth – the creation of life. My only distress was actually having to look after the baby at the other end of it. But I have found the man I wanted as the father of my children and was 100% looking forward to meeting my beautiful Bubba knowing he or she was going to be well loved and very cherished and looked after. Being with my partner Shaun, my fears about motherhood had faded away. Even before we had “hooked up” Shaun and I had talked about what we wanted to name our children. We talked about our favourite names. We made a game of it – I could choose the girls name and he had the choice of the boys name. Surprisingly we actually came to an agreement! For a girl I had chosen Ella-T'e and Shaun had chosen Nathaniel. Ella was my Grandmother's sisters' name and my mothers' second name, and Nathaniel is from Shaun's favourite book/movie, “The last of the Mohicans”. Shaun thought it was quite fitting as I have American Cherokee Indian ancestry in my blood!
Shaun and I had been officially together for a year and a half when we moved from my 2 bedroom, 3rd floor flat into a 3 bedroom house with a huge backyard. Shaun felt he needed some space and a garden to look after and mow. We also had talked about trying to conceive in the upcoming months.
Just after we had moved I went on a small holiday to QLD to visit my mum for a few days and to NSW to visit my best friend and her family for her hubbie's 30th birthday. I had been feeling “strange” coming up to the holiday but I didn't really take much notice. The first thing I can remember feeling was a bit queezy when Shaun had breathed chicken chip flavouring on me whilst we were having a cuddle. I laughed saying I was probably pregnant – one of the first signs is going off smells! I had also been feeling queezy just before dinner time, but once I ate I was fine, so I shrugged that off too. Although when I visited my mum, I mentioned the queezy feeling to her and her response was; “Oh I felt just like that when I was pregnant with your older brother”. GULP!! Then, onto my best friends place in NSW where we were having a 30th birthday cocktail party. I voiced my concerns to her, asking if she thought I should take a pregnancy test. It was still a week or so away from my “Due Date” so we agreed nothing would show up so early, so I tried to forget about it and enjoy my cocktails! All the mums there were reminiscing about how much they had accidentally drank just before they had found out they where pregnant! Suffice to say I didn't really get drunk that night – I just had too much on my mind!
I returned home and day 29 of my usual 28 – 29 day cycle, my period had not shown up and we did a test, first thing, Wednesday morning, the 30th of August.
It was positive!
http://waitingformypopett.blogspot.com/2006/08/look-what-i-got-this-morning.html#comments

I was so scared I was going to miscarry. I honestly didn't believe it was true!
The day after I got back from holidays I also weighed myself. I was 75.0kgs.
Before I left, I was bouncing between 71 and 74. One day I was 73.6, the next I was 72.4, the next I was somehow 71.0. Then I bounced back up to 74.2. So I didn’t know what was going on!! I had guessed I might have been pregnant from the 'Opps moment' we had earlier in the month. We had fooled around the morning before moving out of our flat and it wasn’t till I checked my ovulation chart - that I had already moved to the new house - that I realised - Opps! I was on CD12 (Cycle Day) and would most likely be ovulating on CD14 so it was a very close call to be having unprotected sex……but it was already done.

I was pregnant with the best house warming gift ever!

Friday 1st September 2006 – Positive! The doctors blood test was positive! I was about 5 weeks pregnant.
By 7 weeks I had already bought the cot and change table/bath off Ebay!
By 9 weeks I had two cot quilt sets.
At 10 weeks I had my first bleed. My GP booked me in for an emergency scan – but everything showed OK.
My next scan was the scheduled one at 12 weeks and again everything was OK. Yet I was still sooooo stressed something was wrong. All I kept thinking was, when I can feel the baby move, I'll know everything is alright.
At 14 weeks I thought I felt the baby kick my hip bone – I was so happy!
My blood tests were all perfect: going by my age and 12 week scan alone, my results where 1 in 796 chance (of having a baby with Downs Syndrome) and included with my 10 week blood test it was 1 in 14,700! My GP said they were the best results he had ever seen. They also tested for a little known disease called Edwards Syndrome and my results were 1 in 2,400 and 1 in 100,000. So, very lucky!
At 19 weeks I had another emergency scan due to bleeding – but again everything was OK.
My final scan at around 19 – 20 weeks was perfect too.
By Christmas and week 21 I was feeling Bubba move and was beginning to relax and finally enjoy the pregnancy!
At 22 weeks Shaun felt our Bubba kick for the first time!
At 24 weeks (6 months) we had our last bleed scare. That was about the time we gave up sex. I tell you, I still cant wait for this 6 week wait after the birth to be over!! LOL
At 26 weeks I discovered I had milk! This delighted me to no end as I was so excited that meant I would have more of a chance to breastfeed. Shaun was not impressed. In fact it totally grossed him out. LOL
My glucose test at 27 weeks (start of 3rd trimester) was passable at 7.7. It was under 8 so I wasn't re-tested.
I worked anywhere up to 13 – 14 hour days, standing up, plus the 2 hour drive to and from work, up until I was 29 weeks. Then I refused to do it anymore and was moved back to the office to start training a replacement, once we eventually found one to stay.
By 30 weeks my hemorrhoids had flared up – JOY.
We bought a digital camera to take with us on our last holiday before Bubba.
At 31 weeks I had my long lusted after 4D ultrasound. I had wanted one since I saw it on beyond 2000 or a similar TV show when I was younger. I was so excited. Looking back on the pictures – they are perfectly accurate! I said it looked like a 'he' and 'he' had a pout. I was right!
By 32 weeks my Braxton Hicks contractions that I had been getting for most of the pregnancy had kicked up a notch and were starting to be regular enough to be timed the same as contractions, only with no pain. But boy were they annoying! Even to the point I contacted the hospital just to make sure I was OK.
By 33 weeks I was finding it harder to breathe.
My days were starting off like this:
*Sleep in half an hour by sacrificing my morning shower.
*Get up - go to the toilet.
*Rub moisturiser on my belly - go to the toilet.
*Brush my teeth, blew my nose, put on deodorant - go to the toilet.
*Put on some undies and a pad - Curse myself for needing to go to the toilet again and ignore it.
*Finish getting ready for work, drive to work, roll out of the car at work, turn on the lights, check the answering machine, turn on the computer, feed the fish, turn on the kettle - go to the toilet.
I had also developed some form of Carpel Tunnel in my wrists towards the last few weeks of my pregnancy and was having to bandage them up at night to stop my thumbs from cramping.
At 34 weeks I was highly spoilt at my joint baby shower with my Best Friend Mel. We had a blast! The day before I had been so close to being in a head on collision with a P plate driver. Thankfully they missed me but hit my next door neighbour who happened to be driving home behind me.
I also had very bad fluid retention to the point I could produce a huge hollow in the top of my foot just by pressing down into it. I was feeling fat, fat , fat!
At 35 weeks I maxed out our credit card shopping for baby stuff and getting my car serviced and new tires so Shaun could drive it safely and I could take over driving the Magna without feeling so guilty about having the better car. Once the tires where changed my little hatch felt like it had power steering! (Too bad it dosen't).

Week 36: Thursday the 12th of April was an uncomfortable day. I was at work and no matter where I sat or stood, I felt – uncomfortable. I would need to stand every so often and rock my hips, as my back was a bit sore and tight. My fluid retention, known as edema, was at it's peak and the skin on my feet, ankles and lower calf, felt stretched and sore. My fingers were puffy and I generally felt fat! My weight had peaked at 105.4 kilograms that morning.
I had been having “signs” that I felt labour was on its way. Even though I had guesstimated I would be overdue.
An increase in watery Cervical Mucous (I know - Gross)
Needing to pee more times during the night.
My Braxton Hicks were actually getting painful! I totally thought I was in labour for about 2 hours on Easter Monday night!
The week previous I had lost some Mucous Plug. But no more since.
I woke that morning with Heart burn for the first time ever.
Bubba's movements had really slowed down.
I felt as if there was no room left in my belly. Like there was no way it could grow any more.

I was honestly starting to think I was going to go early even though I had been born 2 and a half weeks overdue and my mother had been induced with all three of us kids. I was also certain I was going to have a big baby. I was 9lb 10&½ oz and one of my nephews was over 10lb! So big babies are in the family.
I wasn't dying for Bubba to be out. I was still really enjoying the pregnancy. I also would have been happy to have been 27 weeks pregnant for ever! I loved the kicks, I loved still being able to sleep well and on my back and I loved my baby belly! But at 36 weeks I was tired from all the late night trips to the toilet and having to wake up just to roll over and the pains in my wrists and the stretched skin aching on my feet.....I was getting very anxious to meet our Bubba.
I also wanted Bubba to come while my favourite person, my cousin, was visiting from the UK. She was leaving Melbourne on the 22nd April, only 15 days before my due date.
I was still working and I had 9 days left to go. I had the following day (Friday) off work for my midwife visit and I had a salon booking for a triple X wax and a leg wax. It was really needed! I was planning to finish work the day after Anzac day, Thursday 27th April, I had already scammed the next day (Friday again) off work for one of my final midwife appointments.

So I had been swaying myself all around the office most of the afternoon, and was clock watching from before 3pm. I couldn't wait to get home and relax. Finally 5pm came round and on the drive home I called Shaun. I mentioned to him I was going to stop by the hospital on the way home for a check up as I was starting to feel quite uncomfortable from the Braxton Hicks. I had a midwife appointment the next day but I was really feeling unsettled enough to get a check up. I had a small sore spot on my belly since my baby shower and that was playing on my mind too. I still don't know what it could have been.
So I gave the maternity ward a call and they said I was OK to stop by. I was put into a room on a machine for monitoring. I was told the numbers on the screen didn't mean anything so not to take any notice of them. The fat little midwife then left me there, on my back for half an hour while the machine monitored Bubba's heart rate, movements and possible contractions. I laid there beginning to writhe in pain from being on my back and Bubba lodging its foot into my right rib bones. I watched the machine vary from 0 – 25 in rhythmic motions. Eventually the fat little midwife came in and showed me the print out. “See – this is the baby's heart rate – its healthy. This is it's movements and here is where it would show if you are having contractions – there is nothing there!” Now to me, I was sure something was wrong with the machine, but she felt my tummy with her hand and still couldn't feel anything happening. When I said I had pain in my ribs she put it down to my gall bladder. Then she left to find a doctor. When she came back to the room, I was standing and swaying with the pain I had in my lower back and hip bones but all she did was laugh at me and say the doctor would be in shortly. She LAUGHED AT ME! I was so ready to cry! A lady doctor then eventually came in and did my first internal. She also did my Group B Strep Swab as I was scheduled to have it the next day at my midwife appointment anyway. She said my cervix was still firm but was facing forward. “Just as we expected” the fat little nurse said. The doctor then suggested I go home and take some panadol! “Would you like some sleeping pills?” She said. Huh! Thanks but no thanks!
I drove home in pain and cried on Shaun's shoulder about the fat little nurse not believing my pain and laughing at me. I then took some panadol. Shaun went down the street to buy us some dinner as it was going on 9pm by that time and I was in no state to cook tea. I was tired, sad and uncomfortable. I was sitting on the couch waiting for Shaun to return with the Red Rooster (Can you believe KFC was out of chicken?!) (Even though I didn't feel like eating). I heard him pull up the driveway and.....Oh ohhh! I felt like my bladder had given way and I could feel my pad filling up! I ran for the toilet. I sat down and water gushed a bit. Shaun walked in the door and I called out “Hunny, I think my waters just broke! His response was. “F*ck! I just bought dinner!” LOL. I called the maternity labour line, as I was sitting on the toilet – as everytime I tried to stand up I would gush again,. The same nurse answered my call... “Hi my name is Shawn....... and I think my waters just broke”. She replied by laughing. AGAIN! Grrrrrrr. “Oh well, I think you'd better have a shower and come in then”. She said. “It seems you knew better!”
Too right I knew something was happening you biatch LOL.
So Shaun and I jumped in the car as iI really didn't feel like a shower at that moment and drove to the hospital. Shaun started to freak out a little as I started to get stronger contractions. Then about 10 minutes from the hospital I heard and felt an elastic band snap! I actually jumped a little and it was like Bubba kicking me right on an internal bone with no water padding it! At that stage I had no idea what it was. I said, “Holy cr*p, what was that!!” Then - GUSH! It was my forewaters! The previous leak must have been my hindwaters. And I'd forgotten to put the towel i grabbed on my way out the door, on my car seat! Lucky the pad was a monstrous one and it lasted till I tried to clime out of the car in the emergency 10 minute parking at the hospital. Shaun walked me up to maternity ward. Well, he walked behind me as I didn't want anyone staring at the huge wet patch and the dribbles that where running down my leg and onto my thongs! Meanwhile I'm getting so damn excited! This was really going to happen!
In the same room as before they hooked me up to the same machine and then realised it was broken. Hell, I could have told them that.
Shaun went to move the car and called my two Best Friends then came back in and watched the screen with me. What was only reatching 25 before was now hitting 35 plus. My best friend Ed then arrived. She lives quite close to the hospital and we watched as my contractions went from 3 minutes apart to two minutes apart. They listened to me moan with each contraction about how gross it was, as with each one my waters would gush again! A nice midwife had just come on shift and advised me it was going to contine to do that until after the baby was born. JOY.
Eventually about 10 pm I was moved to a labour ward where I was able to take off my heavily soaked pumpkin patch yoga tracksuit pants and take a shower! It was here I discovered the pleasure of hot waster on my hip bones and lower back. Then I thought about the day's date. Tomorrow was Friday the 13th! What an awesome day to have Bubba! Shaun and Ed thought I was joking at first but then realised I was serious and we all made a joke about how long Bubba had to stay in there to make it till tonorrow. Only 2 hours to go!

I tried sitting on the bed with a heat pack. That hurt more. I decided to go back into the shower. I felt so bloody guilty abouth the water restrictions but the hot water felt so freaking good. My lovely midwife heard me starting to moan more with each contraction and got me the gas. Honestly it didn't do much apart from regulating my breathing. At first I was holding my breath through the pain, but as it progressed, I felt better monaing as I sucked in the gas. It made me a bit dizzy but as I hadn't had dinner and it was close to 11 – 12 pm, I was feeling dizzy and light headed with each contraction any way. About 11.30 my legs gave way and I had to kneel on the shower floor with the head of the shower nozzle rammed up under my belly being supported by it and my hipbones while I held myself up with one hand and beat the floor with the palm of the other hand while groaning and sucking in the gas. Ihad asked to take a bath but they wouldn't let me due to the progress I was making and my weight. I was too heavy for anyone to lift me out in an emergency – I guess.
Meanwhile Shaun and Ed are relaying to me how the nurse is running round like a chicken with its head cut off. “They think you are going too fast” Shaun and Ed kept saying. I was so happy to hear that! The pain was getting worse and worse and I could hear myself getting louder and louder! I must have sounded so funny going “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouuuuuuuch!” LOL
So they were planning to put me on an antibiotic drip as my swab hadn't had time to be processed yet, but again the midwife didn't get time.
So again we clock watched waiting for 12am to arrive. It did and so did the midwife to do my first internal, as both the doctors where still busy with a Caesar. She had a quick look and a feel; said, “Hmm, can't feel any cervix and here is Bubby's head, you can start pushing if you want!”

Wow!
I was so stoked with that! My first internal and I was fully dilated and ready to push! I hadn't had a crazy mad feeling to push but I had gotten to the point where I was kinda bearing down as it hurt too much not to! So I got into the typical lying on back position, hands up under my knees pulling my legs back. The midwife is telling me to push into my bum and all I could think was “Hell no! My hemorrhoids are going to kill me after this!!” .But thats what she kept telling me to do! She also said she gives first time mums 2 hours to push the baby out. I still have no idea why its only 2 hours but I was going to give it my best shot. Two hours of that intense pain in my hips was just too much to consider. So I pushed into my bum. It seemed to me like it wasn't working but she kept saying it was. Another midwife was in the room at some stages of the labour too and she tried holding up a mirror for me to see – but she was freaking hopeless! So that didn't last long. An hour later I'm still pushing and getting fairly tired by this stage. My midwife Martina is explaining to me that Bubby is starting to crown and soon it's going to feel very intense. “Like a really bad Chinese burn!” I said – “Only not on your arm!” That got a few giggles from the room! Poor Shaun and Ed where quite distressed feeling like they weren't helping me – so I was constantly reassuring them they where doing a great job just by being there for me! Shaun was wiping my face with a cool cloth and that was delightful! At one stage he gave me his hand to hold and I think he really regretted that! I kinda saw him dying from the corner of my eye, mid push, and I let go but he grabbed my hand back trying to be a tough man! LOL.

My midwife was constantly checking Bubba's heart rate on the monitor and that kept scaring me a bit – so eventually I got sick of her saying – “No everythings fine keep pushing”, that I really gave it my best go. I was totally BUGGERED by this stage, arms, legs, head, neck, body was all shaking from lack of energy but I did my best to get the three pushes per contraction that she was asking for! And I only really swore once as Bubba's head was slipping out cause it burnt like F**K! Then I had to pant....“ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouuuuuuuch!” while she turned Bubba's head, then I got to push the rest out! YAY!
He popped out, then I scored this real life baby on my belly. I was so freaking shocked he was real! I just could not believe the moment was happening to me!

That was the same moment Martina jabbed me in the leg with the injection (I think to stop you bleeding and help birth the placenta) but I didn't feel a thing – I was still burning from that hideous Chinese Burn Bubba had just given me!
Everyone forgot to check what sex bubba was! There was a sheet over him that they were using to rub him down, I lifted it up and had a peak and IT'S A BOY!
I knew it! I knew it ! I was right! LOL!

Ed then cut his cord while Shaun took the picture!! Shaun was too queezy to do it!

The other midwife took Bubba aside for the Dr to check him over, while I birthed the placenta. Martina was tugging on the cord and asking me questions that I don't remember. I was bleeding a bit too. But then out it popped. And Martina was pressing on my stomach to stop the bleeding – OUCH! Then that calmed down and I was able to hold Bubba and have a go at getting him to latch on which he did fantastically and another photo opportunity! Then because he was premmie they took him to the nursery. Ed stayed with my but Shaun went with Nathaniel. Ed and I were guessing what he weighed. Ed said 6 – 7 lb and I said 7 & ½ lb. Shaun eventually came back saying he was 3.8 kilos or something and he wasn't sure in pounds so we sent him back to find out. Poor Shaun he was so worn out and kind of in shock I think. He was like a walking zombie! He came back and we finally found out Nathaniel was 8lb 6 & ½ oz. That was the first time I heard - “Imagine if he had gone full term”! LOL.
I'm SO OVER that comment! I'm so GLAD he wasn't full term!
See – I knew there was no more room in there for him!!

So he had to then stay in the Special Care Nursery cause he had a Low Blood Sugar level, So I was able to sit for a while until I could move my shakey legs enough to stand and have a shower. I'm telling you that was the best shower of my life! I then got dressed in my awesome new “Little Miss Naughty” PJ's (I had major PINK mode happening in hope for a girl! LOL) and headed off to the SCN to see my little man again.

I got one hours sleep that morning. I dozed off at 6am and awoke at 7 am when I began texting everyone I knew! (Sorry I missed you Jadey! Forgive me on one hours sleep??!! ;) Then the responses came think and fast, but I was too keen on seeing my little man again so I headed back to the nursery straight after breakie! I was STARVING! I eventually came back to my room and my poor room mate mentioned the hospital phone beside my bed had been ringing off the hook, poor lady – I didnt even realise there was a phone there! LOL. And I had 12 txt messages! Suffice to say I ran out of credit fairly fast and started using my work mobile which I hadn't had a chance to give back seeing I was still at work the day before!
Then my visitors started. My favouritest cousin in the world showed up at 8am! She snuck in saying I had called her! LOL I was so stoked she was my first visitor! She got to see my baby before she left to back to the UK!! I was so so happy. Then one after the other for the next two days I had visitors and flowers coming out my ears! It was the time of my life! I have been spoilt rotten with all our gifts and flowers and I even got flowers from my work's main head office, the International Head Office in Sydney! I was so stoked by that!
So Friday night (13th) Bubba ended up under the lights for Jaundice, he also had a high temperature. They tested him for possible infection but he came back OK. He had eye swabs for a gunky eye but that came back OK. I started getting some milk in and on top of his formula feed, his blood sugar picked up and they stopped pricking his poor baby heals for that. He was finally retested for jaundice on Sunday arvo after I was released from the hospital and he was out of the humidi crib the next day. Of course I cried seeing my boy finally released.

My hormones were still going crazy. I could feel I could cry at the drop of a hat so I'm really glad at how i held myself together in that SCN. I got different advice 3 times a day – every time the nurses changed over – I even had a girl who wasn't even a midwife – she just helped out in the SCN trying to tell me what to do. So towards the end of our weeks stay there I was at my wits end! I was in there from 7am till 9 – 10 pm each day.

Then I'd get home to a tonne of people wanting me to call them and I just wasn't mentally capable of talking to them. So of course my Grandma was pissed I hadn't called her! Grrrrr. (I have now and all is ok! LOL) But when I was finally told I would be rooming in with him in the children's ward, I didn't believe it! I still didn't believe it would happen until they where wheeling him into the ward! I was so happy. But I wouldn't let myself believe he was going home. Everyone kept asking when he was coming home, but all I could say was; fingers crossed he will be able to come home soon. I kept thinking he wouldn't gain weight and they would keep him in again. But we coped OK and I heard in the morning the nurses changing over and telling the new nurse how I changed his nappy every feed and how good and confident and loving a mum I was and I would be going home with him today. I was so freaking happy! I couldn't wait for Shaun to turn up and take us home. Then they stuffed around with my paperwork for a while so I had to hang around while I fed him, then we finally left. What a great but shit scary feeling it is to be handed over your baby! I really felt like he wasn't really mine. That he belonged to the hospital! We then got him into the car seat. Thats a new challenge! And took him to Big W where we bought a few last minute things. He got grumpy for his next feed and started crying in the store – in his new pram!!! and we had to come home. I heard some lady saying to her child – “Hear that? Thats a real little baby somewhere crying. A brand new one!” Then I had to take him out of the pram in line to calm him down and I realised he still had his name tags on and everyoe was having a gawk. It was kinda cool! Even the sales lady congratulated us as we left the store! LOL.
So Friday the 20th April; Nathaniel came home!

That night I took him to the local La Porchetta to say goodbye to my cousin before she left to go back to the UK the next day. He was so well behaved. Sleept soundly in his pram until he needed a feed. I chickened out breastfeeding him in front of most of my family! But my cousin got to feed him and all the ladies had a hold... and still he was sound asleep apart from drinking his bottle. He was even quiet on the way home which is almost disturbing! I keep thinking I'm suffocating him in his car seat cause the straps might be too tight – but I check him every chance I get in the traffic and he is fine! I really need one of those mirrors so I can see him in the rear view mirror! But when I eventually got him home he ate then he wouldn't sleep due to wind pains then he wanted to eat again and this progressed every 2 hours or so until about 4 or 5 in the morning when we eventually both got some sleep! Nathaniel's half brother was also spending the weekend with us – and he LOVES his little brother! He even wanted to hold him and touch him and pat him I was so surprised, I seriously thought he would be jealous. But he loved his Spiderman outfit gift from his new little brother. Although he didn't want to go back to his mummy when Shaun dropped him off on Sunday night. He understands Shaun is both their daddies and I am Nate's mummy but I don't think he understood why he had to go home and Nate didnt. So he was fairly upset! Oh well, I just hope that means one day he will prefer to come live with us! That would seriously make Shaun's day, week, life! Fingers crossed – one day!So we have been to the park and to the shops. He had a little bit of day night confusion at first but we try to keep him as awake as we can during the day so he will sleep better at night. Anyway – my little man is stirring for some boob, so I best leave it here! Hope you liked our story!

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