Sleep, precious little of it

Probably one of the biggest issues of concern for me, in my small, comfortable little world (other than US politics) is sleep. It's a main topic of conversation for me and I'd hate to admit how much of my time it is in my thoughts.

It is SO important!

There are some people who can function really well with less than the required 7-8 hours per night, and there are others (myself included) who turn into blubbering, dysfunctional loonies when they are behind on sleep. My husband is one of those lucky beings that is gifted in the area of sleep. He can lie down on the couch and be snoozing within minutes at any time of day, and every night I eventually fall asleep to the sound of his breathing or (grrrrrrr) snoring.

There are so many interesting articles out there about how important sleep is for our bodies including cell repair, release of hormones and recharging your brain. I think most people are aware of the obvious physical consequences of lack of sleep, such as trouble concentrating or remembering things, and impaired capacity to work or drive. 

Most would agree that it is crucial to our health and wellbeing, but some of those who find sleeping easy could do with learning a little bit about how real a problem sleep can be for people. For instance, my husband finds it completely frustrating that I can't fall asleep like him. It is largely for these people that I write this post, and then for those on the other side who can relate with me.

Sleep can be a REALLY BIG DEAL. You don't know how crucial it is until you struggle with it. 

Peaceful sleeping baby. Awwwww.

Here are the sleep activities of a crap-sleeper:

5:30am: Husband's alarm goes off. He stifles it quickly, but you heard it. You lie there and pretend to be asleep, to both husband and self. If you are lucky you end up dozing. Otherwise you lie there calculating how much sleep you likely got: fell asleep maybe "this time" and woke to husband snoring at XXpm then baby chatting at Xam, so take off an hour... until...

6:07am (or 6:37am if you're lucky): Baby starts saying "bah bah bah", "ada ada ada". You wait a couple of minutes to be sure that she's really awake, then get up and the day begins.

9:30am: Baby is napping. I'm still in my pyjamas. I could have a nap too. Let's be realistic, I SUCK at sleeping in the day. Make difficult decision whether to lie horizontal for an hour and rest or to be productive with your time in the hope that it might mean a slightly earlier bedtime at the end of it all.

11:00am: Drink cup of coffee. DECAF, I can't afford to drink stimulants... might not get to sleep tonight.

1:00pm: Husband calls, says he is going to be home late tonight, save some dinner etc. Uh oh, I want to spend some time with him: does this mean that I might need to go to bed later and hence lose some of those precious hours of potential sleep?!! 

2:00pm: Baby asleep again. She falls asleep so effortlessly, I wish I could do that - I guess there must be far too much in my mind when I'm lying in bed-SHUTUPKATE

Could really do with a nap right now. Make another difficult decision, usually going the direction of starting dinner prep. This will help with getting to bed earlier.

4:00pm: Oh no, I haven't done any exercise today - I probably won't be able to sleep properly argh. Do quick body-weight interval set. Probably doesn't count, not high enough intensity. 

5:00pm: Feeding baby dinner. Come ON Georgia, you need to eat the whole bowl of mush so that you'll sleep through the night!!!!! Then I might have another crack at doing it myself (Even though she doesn't wake up, I still do).

Yes, they are BOTH asleep, but I'm awake

7:00pm: Husband home, baby asleep, let's have dinner together. Oh and I'll have that magnesium supplement, helps with sleep.

7:30pm: Sorry babe, I can't watch a movie with you, I'll never sleep!

9:00pm: Get into bed, rub magnesium lotion on random part of body. I'm gonna absorb magnesium one way or another. I don't want to get back to taking melatonin. Close eyes. Sleeeeeeeeeeep.

9:07pm: Husband breathing heavily. He's asleep. Lucky egg. No, it's good, he needs to sleep so that he can work! Shift to other side, will be more comfortable, I reckon.

Just relax, okay, picturing a really relaxing place...

9:25pm: Husband's breathing verging on snoring. ARGH I'll never get to sleep now that he's being noisy!

Yes, you will, slow your breathing.  Shift back to other side, pull covers up to ears. Think of all the words starting with A that you can think of.

Fall asleep AT SOME POINT. 

11:25pm: Stir. It must be early in the morning, I've been sleeping for ages. Check clock. Why do I do that? I know I shouldn't do that. 

1:25am: Repeat.

3:00am: Hear shriek from baby's room. Eek, is it just a random one or is she actually awake?!!! Whole body tense, waiting. 

No more noise, okay, back to sleep. 

Eventually. 

Realistically, I don't have much of a problem. Things are just fine, and I know what works for me. I can see how this would be a totally consuming battle for those who get deeper into the pattern. It is a crazy mind game.

So, if you care about someone who struggles with sleep, give them a bit more love. It can be a bit of a long road.

Making the decisions

Today, I had a bit of a revelation about one part of becoming a parent that makes it such a heavy load to carry:

YOU HAVE TO MAKE SO MANY DECISIONS.

What really makes this tiring and trying is the fact that you're making them for this tiny, helpless human that you love so much that you might EXPLODE.

On the road to adulthood, you are faced with so many decisions. One of the first big ones, that you're usually forced to make as a bumbling teenager, will cost you thousands of dollars and is supposed to pave the way for the rest of your life's journey: study (don't get me started). Then there's jobs, travel, life partners, buying houses etc etc. These decisions are massive, but they're only for yourself. This makes them that much manageable, and you only have to deal with the consequences yourself (for the most part).

Parenthood is full of crazy decisions. Heck, I'm only 8.5 months in, and I'm already over making decisions.

Before your little bundle of joy turns up, you have to decide on things like whether to buy a Moses basket or a bassinet, which hospital you think you might deliver them in, whether you want to stab them with a Vitamin K injection the minute they surface, what colour walls their room will be... And we just want the best for our little ones, so we spend INSANE amounts of money on things that may never be used.

Once they turn up you realise how crazy caring for a helpless human is, and you become even more inclined to throw money at things that might help them sleep better, be healthier, not develop terrible disorders, stimulate their intellectual development... it gets a bit mad.

Georgia may be an Olympic swimmer now

The really hard part is making decisions on things like immunisations, whether to return to work or care for them full time, what early childhood education option to enrol them in, which way to feed them solids, whether to use Bonjela in the middle of the night because your baby is screaming down the house with sore teeth (and you're afraid that they'll develop Reye's syndrome), whether to try and teach them to sleep when you want them to in a direct way or to go with the flow. 

Avocado is a good decision

And this is just the beginning.

I can't even imagine what it will be like when Georgia reaches school.

To "work" or not to "work"

If you have caught up with me in the last couple of months, we most likely would have chatted about what has been the billion dollar question: whether to return to paid work or not, when to return to work and in what capacity etc etc. The other funny thing is that I have probably told each of you something different, due to the fact that I have changed my mind AT LEAST 50 times.

On Monday I finally made the decision. I say "I", rather than "we" because in the end it did come down to me. This is roughly what my journey looked like:

Phase 1: COMPLETE DISBELIEF AND SHOCK

For at least the first two months of having a baby I was completely perplexed as to how anyone could possibly have offspring and work a job at the same time. Full stop. I needed help in order to feed myself and have clean clothes for my family. There was no way that I could ever fit a job into motherhood.

Phase 2: DENIAL

From when Georgia was two months old, to around four months, I was in a state of survival, just. I was managing things like cooking food and washing. Occasionally, I even managed to clean a small section of our house. I continued to marvel at the wondrous capacity of those who worked whilst possessing children, but could think about it more than I could previously. In this phase I could momentarily daydream about what life could look like in a year, with a toddler, after staging a heroic return to the workforce. These moments were fleeting, and were usually followed by a relapse into disbelief and shock.

Phase 3: SUPERWOMAN

By the time that I had a five month old, I was really starting to get the hang of this Mum thing: She was sleeping well during the day, and we'd taught her to sleep through the night, so I could regularly string whole sentences together, carry out conversations that lasted longer than 30 seconds and undertake small projects. I picked up some of my old favourite past times like raw baking, exercising and blogging. I think that the dramatic contrast to my earlier state made me feel like I could manage anything and I let my imagination run wild. I spent time reading up on Early Childhood centres in my neighbourhood and planning out daily schedules with a commute into town.

Phase 4: REALISATION

This is me now. The rubber really hit the road: I had an offer from a previous workplace, and then shortly after I had a phone call from my current employer, as the woman who was on contract for my maternity leave had resigned. It was time to get serious.

I eagerly started planning out proposed schedules and crunching numbers, running through umpteen different possible scenarios and poring over different part time arrangements.

It wasn't until right before I met with my boss that my thoughts and ultimately my values and convictions came to the surface. These were the pros for going back to work:

Extra cash
Keep "in the game" and current with the work force
Avoid long gaps on my CV (there's the recruiter in me)
Have time to myself- ADULT time
A chance to pursue my own endeavours

But this is what it came down to:

It's a cliche, but they grow up SO fast. I unofficially surveyed dozens of mothers who now had grown-up children, and they were unanimous on the fact that the early years of your kids life fly by. Many said that they wish they hadn't rushed to return to work. I already feel as though Georgia is developing at a million miles an hour and don't want to miss a thing.

My job... for now

There are so many decisions to make when raising children. Sam and I want to be the ones making them, on a daily basis. We also want to be the ones that spend the most time with our children, especially in their early years. I don't want someone else to see Georgia take her first step, or say her first real word.

A core value for Sam and I is balance. We appreciate living a productive and full life, but having time to breathe and just be. Filling every moment of every day isn't exactly our goal, we value time to reflect, think and just be. Mornings and evenings are the busiest times in a young family, and to work all day and only be around for these crazy hours of the day sounds like a recipe for heart failure. This is saying nothing of the fact that these couple of hours of the day are made worse with adding in logistics of getting kids to and from care etc etc. I guess we're not keen to sign up for something that could really pay a major toll on our relationship and quality of life.

The final clincher is our value of health. My mother had cancer as a young mum, and our family haven't been the same since. We all take our health very seriously and keeping fit and healthy comes pretty high on the priority list for both Sam and I. It is really time-consuming keeping a nutritious and varied diet and especially for a young family, so in me being at home and able to focus on this for the first, truly important years of our kids' life we are choosing to prioritise building healthy habits for our whole family.

There you go: I'm going to be a stay-at-home Mum, at least for now anyway. I now truly get the struggle that parents go through in juggling work and home and making choices in this area, and REALLY respect those who manage to return to work quickly. You are super humans.

xx

Further points to note:
While I plan on not going into a formal work situation, I know that I need to be productive and have at least one outlet, where I can plan, carry out and achieve things (without Georgia turning into a project!). This is a work in progress, but at this point I have just taken on the management of Jonny and the Dreamboats (our covers band), and am excited to put some energy and drive into that.
I imagine the health/fitness thing will continue to be an interest/project too.
I also am not saying that I think every Mum should be a good little housewife, at home with the kids; our world is far past that! It's just the circumstances that our family find ourselves in. We are truly blessed that I even have the choice, for a start!

Boobs

So now that I'm a mum, I've been toying with the question of what my blog should look like (amongst a whole lot of other, far more important questions). I suppose I could join the underworld of "Mummy-Blogging". Maybe I'll have something funny to say, or I could write heavily dry and sarcastic complaint-blogs whining about the perils of parenthood? Realistically though, I am not funny enough, or negative enough, so I'm not sure how that would take off. I will, however, dedicate one post (this one) to the ultimate Mum-weapons.

I've never been someone with a super-strong boob-game, but this hasn't really bothered me too much. To be honest, I don't quite get what the big fuss is about. It's very clear, though, that roughly half of the world sees boobs as somehow powerful, and the other half tends to possess a pair.

Breasts. I never really use the word on its own, it seems a little clinical. Saying "boobs" is more affectionate, and familiar. My husband has never referred to them as anything else either. There are, however, scores of alternative nick-names and alternative words that can be employed to refer to the common breast. Some are quite vulgar, and others a little bit silly.

Titties.

Jugs.

Boobies.

There are heaps of terms, I won't go on.

I haven't ever cared enough to be offended by the fuss/nonsense, and I had a bit of a moment one morning this week when Sam referred almost affectionately, in a way most unlike his normal nature, to my boobs as "your milk jugs". I reeled for a moment, and searched for an appropriate response, before realizing that this was actually accurate and somehow a sweet thing for him to say.

Breast-feeding my newborn bubba

Breastfeeding. There, I use the word breast when I use the full term. This has definitely completely changed my perspective on boobies. I had a moment this morning, when my baby had decided to sleep in (wahoo!). I was able to get a quick shower and get dressed before feeding her and GOSH my boobs were about to explode. It was in this moment that I TRULY realised that my breasts (it feels weird typing it) had finally come into their own. Inside my head I slowly started to piece together how cool these feminine appendages were: I have been feeding my baby for 6 months, and I am solely responsible for all of the nutrition that she has received, and therefore all of the growing that she has done. Compare a newborn to a 6-month old: that is a lot of growing.

Needless to say, I am feeling pretty coy about my super powers. It's a very private and personal little celebration that I have been having, but I've never felt so comfortable and happy in my own little body. Power to me!

It's Breastfeeding week this week, so I'm feeling particularly chuffed that I have been blessed with the privilege of feeding my little cutie this far. There are plenty of people who are gypped of the opportunity, so I'm also thinking of those wonderful mamas.

Celebrating boobies and happy babies!

Having a baby

Wow, I really dropped the ball with my blog! It's not that nothing has happened in two years, but more that I've just gotten out of the habit. Now I'm a Mum with a cold, moping round home and have no excuses left...

It makes sense to start with the most life-changing event that has taken place: the birth of our daughter Georgia.

Key fun facts:

1) Labour can feel like period pain. This meant that I spent the first half hour of my labour frantically googling "labour+period+pain", arguing with Sam over the term that I was using ("cramps") and trying to call my mum to see if I could be in labour.

2) Water births are amazing.

3) If your family have a history of fast births, expect one too.

4) The birth process is a mere drop in the ocean, compared to actually LIVING with the baby.

5) Entonox is flipping fantastic.

Baby was 39 weeks gestation and my friend Penny came to stay. We went for a swim in the ocean, ate some nachoes and had an ordinary night. I felt tired and had a sore back, so I left Sam and Pen to watch a movie and went to bed early, but when Sam came to bed I hadn't actually got any sleep. At around midnight I started to feel what I would call "cramps", which just felt like period pain. They'd come and then disappear, and I realised that this could possibly be it after about 4 of these. After waking Sam to make him download a contraction timer app and confirming (thanks google) that this probably was labour, we realised that things were happening quickly - intense contractions every 2 or 3 minutes.

I didn't want to wake Penny, who was sleeping in the spare room, so demanded that we move to the lounge. The next hour was made up of me ordering Sam around, trying to go for a walk to ease the pain, and mainly arguing as to when we should call the midwife. When we finally did at 1:30am, I couldn't even talk to her, so she opted to come over and check me out immediately. It turned out that I was already 7cm dilated, so couldn't take any more time in getting to the hospital. After Sam had packed his bag (?!!!!! grrr) we left. THIS WAS EASILY THE WORST DRIVE OF MY LIFE. Note to self: sit in the back seat next time. We live in Whitby, which is ordinarily a 40 minute drive to Wellington Hospital in the CBD. Thankfully there was no traffic at 2am...

By the time we got there I couldn't even walk- I was SO thankful when an orderly turned up with a wheel chair and took me up. There is NO DIGNITY in childbirth. But it is amazing.

My midwife Shelley started filling the birthing pool when we made it into my room. Note: these take FOREVER to fill. Didn't make it into the pool until around 3am. By then I was reaching the "transition" phase, which is the roughest and most painful part. Entonox helped me to focus at this crucial point, though the super delightful student midwife Danielle had to keep reminding me to use the gas.

The actual "pushing" only lasted about 30 minutes, and I kind of paced myself with this and took it slow, only pushing properly when threatened that I would be CUT.

The most powerful moment that I remember is when Shelley said to me, "Look down, Kate", and I saw her head was out (and covered in hair!). Then a second later bub was hauled up onto my chest, looking like a beautiful, perfect skinned rabbit. I couldn't breathe. My baby felt the same and made no noise at all. Everything was perfect. I felt like I was silently laughing, but was only gasping.

Georgia (Sam and I looked at each other and knew that was her name already) wasn't making any noise at all. She lay quietly on me in the warm pool and everything was exactly as it was meant to be. Shelley pushed the emergency button and the room filled with the emergency resuscitation team, but I wasn't worried, it was perfect. Georgia took a breath and they disappeared as quietly as they arrived.

We'd planned to spend a couple of days in post-natal care at Kenepuru Hospital following the birth. My gorgeous girl was born at 4.06am, and we were out of the door by 6:30am, after a hot chocolate and toast. I was in a complete daze as Sam carefully drove our little family back on the same roads that we had torn down a couple of hours earlier. Surreal.