Priorities

In some ways, my husband and I are very alike, soulmates, think the same. Like the ESP we have always seemed to share, little stuff like both opening our mouth to talk about the same thing at the same time out of the blue, or ringing each other at exactly the same time, or after weeks of having no cotton buds, we both brought them on exactly the same day. Coincidences, maybe, and as a result of living together and knowing each other so well, but it happens so regularly that it feels like there's a higher power at work between us.

And then there's the ways that we're not so in sync.

Lots of those too.

Many because of our different upbringings. Many (most) because of our different gender (how can men and women think so differently!?!). Many because of the different roles we play in our family life.

Like priorities. We're very often not in sync over priorities.

For example, he is a bit OCD about cleanliness, partly from his upbringing (his dad (a lovely man, truly!) used to come home from work and run his finger over the top of the doorway, and raise his eyebrows if there was dust...imagine the pressure on my mother-in-law!) and partly from life in the Navy.

I am not so OCD about cleaning.

But I do like my things in their place, tidy, where they belong. Like keys and wallet. I always know where mine are, because I ALWAYS put them where they belong. He's not so OCD about this and regularly forgets his wallet or phone. Or leaves keys laying around...or IN THE POCKET OF HIS JUMPER HANGING ON THE LINE AND TAKES THE OTHER PAIR TO WORK SO IT'S MY PROBLEM THAT THE KEYS AREN'T HANGING WHERE THEY BELONG (but anyway, that was 2 weeks ago now and I'm nearly over the frustration of 30 minutes of searching...I think!). I get mildly anxious if the kitchen bench isn't bare, whereas he'll open mail and leave the ripped envelopes spread over it.

And don't get me started on when we travel together. I keep everything in its place, he is like a cyclone.

Anyway........

I guess it works well having the two of us live together. I tidy and he cleans sometimes and the rest of the time inadvertantly guilts me into cleaning more often than I'd like (no, just kidding...I think.)

Except where kids come into it. If he had his way, we would have no toys, no sign of kids living here, we would, in fact, be living in a show home. No sign of life. Don't get me wrong, when I do a big tidy and clean I love how the house looks and wish it would last longer than a few hours. But I recognise that the very nature of having kids mean having mess to some extent. His instinct is not to recognise this (although to his credit, he has loosened up somewhat over the last 5 years.)

Our differences came to a bit of a head last weekend. It was a sunny Winter's long weekend. We stayed home for it. I wasn't feeling too flash and decided that as it was a 'holiday', I would treat it as such. He got stuck into doing more work on our front courtyard, so alot of our time was spent with him drilling and hammering, and me laying in the sun listening to the kids play imaginary games or draw rock people on our garden rocks.

To me, it was perfection (because I was mostly horizontal...no, just kidding!) because the kids were very low-maintenance, enjoying sun and fresh air, using their imaginations, not fighting, doing cool stuff with nature (the rock person idea wasn't initially mine but I encouraged it, I love it!). Chelsea came inside at some stage and set up her teddies and babies and chairs around a table for a tea-party, tablecloth and all, and happily played by herself. Mike played lots of football by himself, commentating his own games as he does. And I took photos, always a joy to me.

See, Perfection. We were together, but the kids weren't needy. We had fun, but they didn't need me to be a part of it, I could choose when to enter into it. A true holiday for a mother.

Of course, with all the drilling etc, Tony didn't care what the kids were doing, he was focussed on his own stuff.

So when he came inside later, about an hour before his parents (the King and Queen?!) were due to drop in for a quick visit, he freaked out. While I usually do clean for their visits, this time I had made the decision that I wasn't going to stress about their drop-in (not a visit to us as such, just a convenient drop-in) (and they're family, after all) and don't get me wrong, the house wasn't disgusting, it was just not immaculate, it was lived-in, played-in, relaxed.

But suddenly, it was all hands on deck, everyone at action stations, hustle hustle, yell yell. He had a big go at me and I replied angrily that it wasn't going to be HIM, the man, the full-time worker, they judged if they were to judge, it would be ME, the woman, the mostly stay-at-home one, and I decided that that was ok today, so my choice, my problem, chill out.

It ended well because the kids sensed the urgency and worked well together tidying their toys up, he vacuumed and I followed behind with the mop, and the house looked great after 40 minutes of what usually takes me, alone, a good few hours!

And then to prove my point, after the in-laws had admired the work on the front courtyard, we headed straight out the back for their 45 minute visit. No time to notice the state of the house. Just an enjoyment of seeing the grandkids they hadn't seen for a few months and catching up on each others' news.

BUT once again, it proved out priorities, particuarly in parenting. I am fairly lax with the kids play, thinking they're only young once, let them 'free-play', tidy up at the end of it but not during, encourage use of imagination and the resulting cuteness. Our colouring-in table is always set up and not often neat because they're back and forth to it so often in a day, but I love that because they have freedom to explore their creative side to their hearts' content. Tony would have them restricted to a corner of the house making no mess as they play, in his ideal world. I'm serious. Totally serious.

AND since the 'childcare' element of our life usually falls to me, it doesn't affect him so much if they're low maintenance. Whereas to me, if they need to make mess to leave me alone and not be 'at' me, then that's great, go for it kids!! Different priorities for sure!

And one more thing about different priorities. While I see doing parent help in Michael's preschool class as a priority, as a joy, as a chance to peek into a part of his world that I have no control over, something to make Michael's day, Tony clearly sees it as an inconvenience. I asked him if he'd like to do it today, because he's taken the day off to watch the footy between 12 and 3. He replied that no, he has too much to do around here, no time to waste on parent help.

Whereas I am kid-focussed, Tony is task-focussed.

But then we work well together because left up to me, who knows what state of disrepair our home could be in, because I'd be too busy concentrating on giving the kids a good time. Whereas left up to him, the kids would perhaps be dressed and maybe fed and that's about it, while he did jobs jobs jobs.

Yep, frustrating as we find each other, we definitely match and it's why our family works so well together. Something to remind myself of and remember to celebrate.

Silence...and Magic

We just had a kid-free weekend, unplanned, accidental, thanks to a lovely offer from mum. It was meant to be one kid, but ended up being both because Mike surprised us all by choosing to go too.

We had no plans as such...rest and sleep being top priorities for us both.

                                                      Tony in heaven with his 4 beloved cats

I still woke up at 7am both mornings, but after a full night of sleep, I was happy with that. Tony woke up at 12 yesterday! Mike's eyes were wide as when we told him that tonight.

I watched a few dvds, some recorded programs, read some, indulged in my photobook habit, went through all my 'skinny' summer clothes and changed them to 'fat' winter clothes.

Spent alot of time in silence. No noise. No talking. No questions to answer. I do rather like silence.

Tony and I had quality time together, talking and being, and even attended a baby-head-wetting party kid-free. We walked there, holding hands, under the stars.

A perfect weekend.

By today, I was ready to go pick the kids up, spend some time at a community fair with them, laugh with them, marvel in how they find magic in everything, take photos of them and their big smiles at the magic around them.

I like silence...alot...

But I love my kids and all they bring to my life.

I'm glad for weekends apart from them, especially accidental ones where I didn't feel desperately overwhelmingly in need of it, to remind me how much I love them and need them.

They are truly the magic in my life.

                                                               "Look Mum, Fairy Dust!"

                                                  Beware, beginner driver in a PINK car!

                                                            Jumping, high...and loving it!

                                                      A merry-go-round never loses its charm!

                                                                 Sweet happy grin.

                                                          A bit of tug-of-war went down well

Amazing

12 weeks and 3 days....here's proof.

A perfect little bony body. 10 fingers with the thumb occasionally heading for the little mouth, lots of vertebrae (always fascinates me how clear the spine is!), all the right bones in legs and arms, a brain, a sweet nose, 2 knees, 2 elbows, A STRONG HEARTBEAT (159bpm), a very very active somersaulting little baby who seems to like laying on his/her tummy (like me...for now!).

Oh the relief...again.

I cried...again...happy tears.

I didn't realise how anxious I still was inside about trusting this pregnancy.

I've just realised that I probably have post-traumatic stress about pregnancy and wonder how many other millions of women around the world carry the same burden.

But since 2.45pm yesterday, I have felt lighter than I have in maybe 15 months.

I didn't know I carried a tight ball of heaviness but now I know because the difference I feel is almost palpable.

I look at this amazing photo everytime I go to the fridge and feel such awe.

It's real. It's really real. There is a live baby growing perfectly in my tummy.

Amazing.

Relief

Well, D-day arrived today, well, S-day...scan-day. Appointment at 3.20pm, we were sent home cos doc was 8 patients behind, finally got in at 5.45pm (all that extra waiting, on top of what i'd been bravely doing for 3 weeks...anxiety plus plus...but I did good, i'm proud to say!). Briefly sat down in the chair then shakily asked if I could move to the 'couch' so we could just get the important thing out the way without all the preamble. He understood, my lovely doc, and was quick to point out a brain growing, and a leg stump, and a little baby at perfect size for 8 weeks and 1 day, and then, even, movement visible to the eye in such a tiny creature. I asked about a heartbeat and he laughed kindly "there's no movement if no heartbeat...let me zoom in...there it is". I teared up, so so relieved. Tony sighed a huge sigh of emotion (I think partly relief that the baby is ok, mostly relief that he didn't have to see me go through hell again).

So WOW I'm pregnant and I can now be excited and happy and plan for the future a little. I can relax.

Still not feeling grand in the gut but it's easier, much easier, when I know it's for a reason.

And now, school holidays, Easter, a family trip down south...it's a good week! I SO SO didn't want this week to be spoilt by bad news today. I love Easter and have always done Easter Egg hunt and a letter from Easter Bunny, along with footprints and whatever other ideas come up that year. More for me than the kids I think...I love the magic of it. We missed out last year because I was in hospital all Easter weekend. We were going to have a Hunt afterward but it kinda felt like we missed the moment by the time I was better. Kids didn't realise but I did...and I was so scared of deja vu. And so determined that bad news or not, I wouldn't be too sad to enjoy our Easter.

But no fear now, only happiness and hope and joy and new life.

Aaahhh, I can breathe easy again.

Thankyou little baby for holding on tight and doing good. I am/We are so grateful to you.

PHEW and YAY!

Psychological?!!!!!

Oh my goodness gracious me, do some people never learn? My husband is a lovely man, a good bloke, a kind guy, generally exemplary in his caring of me. I've hardly been able to fault him recently. But today, he let himself down. I'm partly laughing about it, partly smarting a little. I told him I was feeling a little bit sick already, especially yesterday arvo and this morning till around 1030. Just seedy. What do you think he said? On our 5th pregnancy after nearly 7 years of marriage. "Do you think it's just psychological since you know you're pregnant?" Is he for REAL?!! He regretted saying it nearly immediately because my response wasn't pretty. I may have had a mini-tantrum. Might've nearly cried even. "No babe, no, I don't think that. I found out I was pregnant a week ago and I've been fine. On your theory, that would not have been the case. I actually feel sick because that's what pregnancy hormones do to me. Not the baby...the baby doesn't need to be even alive for me to be sick. My hormones do it. Are you for real asking me that after how you've seen me be before?!! SHEEZ!" Pause while I digested his question and he stumbled over his great apology of ever daring say that. Then, "How dare you say that? How dare you and all those other men and women who don't suffer this think that we are having psychologically sickness just because we know we are pregnant? What...when you drink copious amounts of alcohol one night then wake up with the worst hangover ever the next day, do you just psychologically think you are feeling sick because you know how much you drank? NO!! You really do feel sick and gross because the alcohol made your body that way. JUST LIKE PREGNANCY HORMONES DO TO ME!!!!!" And on that, with him still apologising and trying to bite back that one question that escaped his mouth, I rested my case. And I hope that sometime in the next few weeks, he is in my way when I need to vomit and I can show him just how PSYCHOLOGICAL 'morning sickness' is! P.S. 'MORNING sickness'?! Really, MORNING? Is that all? Oh how lovely that would be! Even the name of it downplays the feeling of it. Now wonder we have no hope in ever having true sympathy from anyone who hasn't been there. P.P.S. This does not in any way downplay my happiness about being pregnant and (hopefully) adding a third baby to our family. It's just par for the course, an inconvenience that has to be suffered to get the 'prize'. I am happy to suffer for the prize.

A quote that rung a bell with me...

One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it's worth watching. Unknown

Dreams coming true?

Well, well, well, whaddayaknow?!! It would appear that I am pregnant again. WOW! SURPRISE! Turns out that all I had to do was write that last post then assess our family situation, announce to my husband that I give up, I want to move on, I can be happy with our 2 gorgeous kids and will somehow 'get over' the underlying subconscious grief that was there, and cry a few tears when he talked about giving our baby stuff away. I was approaching peaceful acceptance. I booked an appointment with my doctor to get a referral to fix my post-childbirth issues. And 2 weeks later, 2 lines side-by-side on a little wee stick. YAY!!! I am shocked, and happy, and scared. So scared in some moments. But impressively nonchalant in other moments. I fought the urge to visit the Emergency Dept next to my work on Thursday when I was having little abdo cramps...I so wanted to demand an ultrasound. Then I realised, as a knowledgeable midwife should, that it's too early to know too much or to be able to predict too much. Then I realised that I really want is a crystal ball, a reliable one, to tell me now, right now, whether this will be all right. Whether I can plan for a baby or not. Whether I can get excited as I so want to and so so should be able to if my innocence in this department hadn't been so lost to me 6 years ago then again last year. Is it worth visiting a clairvoyant? I've never wanted to before but right now, still with 2 weeks till the magical 7 weeks when my angels haven't lived past (according to scan), it seems too many minutes to endure of not knowing quite what to feel. Self-preservation is a strong thing. Part of me says that if I keep a lid on it, not get TOO excited and not plan TOO much, then I won't be hurt so much if the worst happens. And then the bigger part, the more natural positive part that is more truly me, doesn't want to rip this little bean off of my excitement and the welcome from my heart. Even tho my other little angels haven't made it, this little person doesn't deserve any less happy feelings flowing through. I'm a bit stuck in the middle. I think the positive part is winning out the last few days though. I keep finding myself grinning a quiet little grin...I've got a secret and it's the coolest secret ever! I didn't know how to tell my husband...I ended up taking the wimp's way out and leaving a positive pregnancy test on the bathroom cabinet...I heard him inhale with a "OH!" and then pop his head out and ask "are you pregnant?!" I answered, heard buried, "it would appear so! Sorry!" "WOW!" Yes, wow indeed! And he's been very sweet, genuinely happy, teasing me that all I had to do was give up on it and it happened. That afternoon after work, he hugged me and put his hand on my belly and whispered "hello baby, how was your day?" Just what I needed him to do. PHEW!! It made me laugh thinking how wimpy I was about telling him...how do girls who fall pregnant very early in 'dating' manage to say the words to the bloke that got them that way? Must be terrifying! So...December. I allow myself one little fantasy, one little planning-ahead indulgent thought. My little baby girl or boy, tiny, wrinkly, fresh, being cuddled by an ample Santa for a Santa photo. I saw this last Christmas (when I 'should' have had a baby too) and it brought tears to my eyes. My babies have been nearly one at Christmas, old enough to think Santa is a horrendously scary man! I've told a few friends, much to Tony's chagrin. He was put out when he found out, and I had to explain that "telling people does not cause a baby to die" (he still has a little tiny belief that posting our news on Facebook last year had something to do with our baby's demise...anything to make it his fault that bad stuff happened??). I added that I'm a talker, a communicator, therefore not that good at keeping my mouth completely shut about something that is on my mind EVERY SINGLE MINUTE. Surely he knows that by now?!! (He kind of agreed.) So speaking of friends, I have a few friends who are ultra-understanding about my fears, even though they haven't 'been there'. Another few who haven't 'been there' don't get it at all...they try but the understanding isn't there. It prompted me to write a list of 'friends who I could confide in'...23 of them (which made me feel pretty lucky just to have that many good women in my world)...of which only 4 have suffered pregnancy loss. Good stats for my group really. (Makes me feel that I 'took 2 for my team'. Not an entirely rational thought but hey, am i really truly expected to be rational right now?!) Anyway, so I considered who I could talk to who would really truly deeply in their hearts 'get' this fear. None of those 4, 2 because I don't want to bring up their pain again, 1 because she's still grieving that she can't have a 3rd so probably wouldn't be able to get past that, another because hers was an accidental pregnancy soon after her 2nd baby and she had just found out she was pregnant, was in total shock and then rather relieved that she didn't have to face the reality of it. So I just have to process my own thoughts, try to keep healthy about it (and I'm quite proud of how successfully I'm doing that so far), talk to friends who say the right things, and keep hope hope hoping! And enjoying. And doing everything I can to allow for 'success' (not that I can pinpoint anything I've ever done 'wrong' before). And on a superficial level, enjoying the renewed smooth skin that pregnancy hormones have already given me, after a shocking few months of cysty pimples. And looking forward to, and dreading, and then dreading some more, the nausea and vomiting that seems to accompany me in early pregnancy (no matter what the outcome...it's a myth that 'morning sickness' means everything is going well; I've proven the myth of it twice). And I'm talking to my stomach and begging this little person to hang around and be healthy and grow big and he/she will be so so loved. I promise.

A year on...

A year tomorrow since we found out we were pregnant with our 3rd child. That didn't go so well...and we still don't know what the future holds for us in that area. Still no baby in my arms or in my belly, and I hope every day that there will be soon. My kids hope it too...they both randomly bring it up, asking "when are we going to have our other baby Mummy?" and "I can't wait to play with our baby" and wherever we are, they both seek out babies to sit and play with. Even newborns. My 2 little gentle nurturing souls are both convinced that there is another little person for our family.
My husband isn't so convinced. Scared of a repeat of the grief and illness that occured for all of Autumn last year. Scared of his age (40 this year). Scared of being so 'tied down' and 'tired' again just when our kids are at ages that are getting easier.
I can't tell you why I'm convinced, I just know I am. In my heart. Practically, I know that we have it pretty good right now. Financially, probably not the wisest move to add another person. But emotionally, and isn't that the biggest one?, it's there, that wish to complete our family with another little person. Boy or girl, i'm honestly not fussed. As I keep saying to my husband, I just know that I'm not done.
I might have to be done. We don't know what last year did to my body. I may now be infertile. I'm not really ready to face that. I may have to be soon and I don't even know how.
I sway between thinking 'at least our kids and each other are healthy, at least noone has died, I should be grateful for all I have', and then thinking 'oh man, finding out on ultrasound that another baby has died in my belly, and having to go thru an operation, and then becoming septic and having to have another operation, then becoming unwell for several months with terrible headaches, but having to get on with life and duties and work and everything anyway, well, maybe I have a right to feel sad sometimes about it.' And then I think, like Tony must, 'why would I want to take the risk of all that grief and loss and illness happening again?' I don't know, I just do, I just want the outcome that most people get, a healthy baby.
It's hard being a woman. It's hard wanting something that you actually have no control over. I can't make my husband sleep with me at the right time of the month, I can't make my body fall pregnant, I can't wish a baby into being. And I can't stop myself looking at other babies and thinking it's in my destiny to do the baby-stage again. And the toddler stage. And all of it.
It is all so incredibly rewarding. Hard as anything, frustrating more than life itself, but so fulfilling and fun.
My husband sometimes thinks I struggle with the 2 I have. He questions whether I'm handling them. Don't we all struggle at times, at moments? Don't we all just want space sometimes? I know we do because I talk to a lot of other mums and dads, and the story is always the same. He doesn't talk to anyone at all about parenting, so he thinks it's just me. And I'll have you know that I am a very good mum, a very organised person, on top of it all, admired by many. He just doesn't see that because he remembers the times when I'm irritated and yell and crave space. Don't we all do those things?
I know another little person in our family would make it busier in our house, give me not much space for a long time. But I'm willing to go there. I really am. My fingers are crossed, always, that we get to go there.