Cord Blood Donation

Whilst on the topic of Donate Life Week - running from 31st July - 7th August - I thought it would be a great time to briefly talk about cord blood donation.

My personal view, as with organ donation, is that if I am finished using it, then whoever needs it can have it.

I first became aware of cord blood donation back in 1993 when it was an option looked at to help save my nephew's life.  Unfortunately, it wasn't the match it needed to be, but the story still ends well. You can read it here.

Cord blood is the blood from the umbilical cord and placenta that your unborn baby uses up until birth.  Once your baby is born, in most cases, the umbilical cord and placenta are discarded.  You can however choose to donate your baby's cord blood.

My first son was born at Royal Prince Alfred Womens and Babies (RPA) which is one of the hospitals registered as a cord blood collection centre.  I had wanted his cord blood donated but because he was an emergency caesarian it was unable to happen.

My second son however was a much more orderly birth, also at RPA.  I had made known my request for donating his cord blood so the collection team were on hand to take the umbilical cord and placenta soon after his birth.

The cord blood collection team rang me the following day to say the blood taken from the cord was just shy of the amount needed to donate to someone.  His cord blood would therefore be used for research.  They apologised that it could not be used for a donation.  Are you kidding me? He was still helping someone.  Or many!  The fact my son's cord blood could be used for research could potentially save countless lives.  I was not upset in the slightest.

To save a life or lives on the very day he drew his first breath?  What greater gift is there that my son could give?

If you would like to find out more about cord blood donation, you can do so here.

Photo cred: plus.google.com

How To Create Your Child's First Cookbook

Back in early March, I was discussing with my cousin Lisa what kids eat and of my cooking, what my children's favourite meals are.

Now I am one for memories and family sentiments.  I have a memory box each for the boys and a joint one for my husband and I.  Anything that I think will be nice to look back on one day goes in there.  From photos to certificates to champagne corks (in mine, not the kids), to birthday cards etc. You get the idea.  I have a journal each for the boys that I started before each of them was born.  The entries were more frequent back when they were babies, but I still do write in there for them from time to time.

The idea being that maybe not right now, but in years to come, they will treasure what has been kept and written. Being boys, this may not be entirely the case, however it will be up to them what they choose to keep or if they choose to keep any of it.  Being my boys, I can see already they both have a strong sense of family and a strong element of sentimentality about them.  Neither look like me so at least they have something of mine!

When Lisa and I were discussing meals, she suggested I get a scrapbook each for the boys.  As I make a meal they love, put the recipe in the scrapbook and one day when they are moving out of home, hand them over their very first cookbook filled with all the home-made recipes they love.

What a FABULOUS idea!

There is always that one recipe that your Grandma baked or your Mum made that you wish you had the recipe for.  Being Taurean and constantly thinking about food, I have made sure that I have obtained these recipes as I have gone along in life.  I NEVER miss out on anything food related. From anyone.

When one of my best friends broke up with her partner, she lamented that she no longer had the recipe for the best Caesar salad dressing you've ever tasted.  I said "I have it." She also commented that there was this great Indian chicken dish that she would no longer know how to make. I said "I have that recipe too." Then there was the all time party favourite, the Watermelon Smash. I said "no worries, I have it." I had obviously spent a lot of time at their place! And what a funny conversation it was when I was able to say "I have it" to each of the recipes my girlfriend wished she still had.  Her ex was a fabulous cook. Gotta give credit where it is due!

So back to the scrapbook.  I actually bought two A4 lined ring bound books.  I thought it would be easier for writing the recipes in there in a straight line! As for the covers of them, I thought it would be a neat idea for the boys to cover the books so that they could always look back on them as adults and see it was something they did when they were 5.  Which brings me to my next point.  My youngest turned 5 earlier this week so now I have two 5 year olds for the next two months.  I specifically waited until they were both 5 as they get such a thrill out of being the same age.  

True to form, Jai's is very ordered.  Cruz's is more abstract.  

The boys had the best time doing this activity and I had the best time watching and helping them. I was chief glue bottle squeezer!  Now I just need to cover them in contact so that their artwork stays in tact.

Thanks Lisa for the idea.  I love it and the boys love it. They are totally on board and suggesting which recipes I should add to their books already.  Caesar salad being one of them!

Struggling to Fall Pregnant?

I wanted to write this post because when I was trying unsuccessfully to fall pregnant, I ended up scouring the internet for ANYTHING that may have given me a clue, a glimmer of hope. 

Skip to the bottom line, end result, whatever you wish to call it.

The sum total of my pregnancies sound like a dream: 

• pregnant after our first attempt with IVF 
• fell pregnant naturally with my second 
• both pregnancies I wasn't sick 
• both pregnancies I craved chocolate

True Story.  

Does it get much better?

The truth of the matter is, in the grand scheme of things, I was VERY lucky.  And I know that. There were however a lot of other lines that could have been written in between those ones above.

When I decided to begin this blog, one of the things I dearly wanted to impart were positive 'secrets' if you will.  Exactly as I say - things that shouldn't be kept to ourselves. If there is one woman out there struggling with her own pregnancy journey and this post can help, then it has served its purpose.

Every woman has her own pregnancy story.  

The reality is, whatever it took, however long it took, pregnancy and childbirth truly is a miracle.  To this day, the whole concept still amazes me to the point where I feel there needs to be a bigger word than 'miracle' to describe it.  

My husband and I were in our late 30's and tried for 14 months to fall pregnant ourselves with our first child.  I realise that this is not a long time at all.  My heart breaks when I hear of couples who try for years, or who go through so many cycles of IVF, and I am in awe at their tenacity.  

I honestly don't know that I could have done the same.

The 14 months we tried for felt like 14 years.  If you are trying now and struggling, you will understand what I mean.  The whole thing became like a scientific experiment rather than an exciting adventure.

Six months prior to us ever starting to try for a family, I was involved in a head on car accident. My car was a write-off. And apparently I was a broken toy as well!  I had various injuries and a few interesting breaks.  The physical and mental toll was bigger than I had thought. You know you have that mentality of 'getting straight back on the horse'? That was how I felt. My body had other ideas.  It still amazes me just how the body can respond both positively and negatively, in situations like that.

For those who like alternative therapies, as I do, you will be interested in the following.   I was recommended to a reflexologist who was incredible. He does a lot of work with the labour ward at St George Hospital in Sydney, helping women in labour.  He helps their babies to turn if they are breech or could be better positioned for birth, can bring on labour if required, his stories are amazing!  I figured if he could help at that end of a pregnancy, then maybe he could help me at the starting blocks!  I saw him for 10 sessions. Wow!  

In relation to my body, I learned:-

• if your spleen is damaged in anyway, you will find it difficult to conceive
• pressure points coinciding with the reproductive system are found in your ankle region
• nerves attached to the uterus are found in your lumbar spine.  Any damage to these will also make conception difficult
• if your pelvis is out, your body will find it difficult to carry a pregnancy so may well prevent one!

Who knew?

As I said, I had sustained various injuries and a few interesting breaks making all of the above applicable to me.

So how did we end up doing IVF? 

Unfortunately, I still wasn't falling pregnant.  My GP referred me on to a gynecologist/obstetrician who also happened to be an IVF doctor.  I recorded my temperature on a flow chart for three months.  It then took him the time it takes to flick 3 pieces of paper to say "have sex on days 10 and 12". Really. You got that in 4 seconds?  I was 38.  I knew my body (I thought quite well) and even I couldn't figure that out!  I had tried everything under the sun. Ev-ery-thing! I thought I should have been able to get this. When I asked how he knew that so quickly, it was the same answer as the one he gave me when I asked how he could tell what were legs and shoulders in my pregnant belly - "because I've been doing this for 35 years and that's why you pay me the big bucks!" Well, I'd been doing my body for 38 years and seemingly still didn't know it! Sometimes it just takes another perspective.  And clearly an educated one!

I've heard women say over the years that there is one other man that a woman will fall in love with besides her partner, and that is her obstetrician.  It's true.  He walked me through such a personal journey and treated me like I was the only patient on his books. He was witty, laid back, loved yoga and wore animal print frames on his glasses.  
I asked once if he ever panicked in a situation.  He said he didn't because it doesn't serve anyone. I believed him. I liked his sarcasm (refer "big bucks" comment above).  But nothing outweighed his expertise.  He knew his stuff completely and I felt completely safe in his hands.  I cried the day I found out he retired. We weren't planning more children. But the journey shared with him was personal and for a female, quite intimate. I wasn't in the habit of showing and revealing 'those parts' to just anyone! He was so instrumental in making our dream come true. 

I digress.  Back to the story.

After 3 months of sex on days 10 and 12, (and a few others thrown in for good measure!) we still weren't pregnant.  I would cry when I got my period.  On one occasion I sat on the stairs and just sobbed.  I caught my reflection in a mirror and instantly just felt like I had failed.  My body had failed us in our quest to become a family.  It was gut wrenching.  I will never forget that feeling.  

My doctor was about to prescribe fertility tablets for me to take, when he stopped, looked at me and asked if I thought I was still traumatised by the accident.  Absolutely I was.  It was all he could put my 'not falling pregnant' down to.  He said he could do investigative surgery, put me on fertility drugs etc but in his experience there was no physical reason as to why I would be infertile and why I was therefore not pregnant.  He believed my body was still traumatised and, based on the fight or flight response, was protecting itself whilst ever it still felt vulnerable and in need of further repair. He suggested that subconsciously my body was deciding every month that it was better for me to just look after myself rather than add another factor into the equation by way of a pregnancy.  He further suggested we skip past fertility drugs and move straight to IVF. When I asked how he thought it would work if my body was deciding not to allow a pregnancy, he simply stated that by doing IVF we would be by-passing the decision making process of my body and making the decision for it.  The idea being that once my body had an embryo inside it, it would know what to do and we would capitalise on it being in 'protection' mode.  The plan worked.  

The next piece of important advice I received, and acted upon, was the suggestion from my doctor to commence acupuncture.

The results of acupuncture combined with IVF treatment speak for themselves. It is the reason why now most, if not all, IVF clinics will request that you have acupuncture treatment prior to an embryo transfer and follow up treatment afterwards.

I had been given the details of an acupuncturist at Miranda (in the Sutherland Shire) - Michelle Craven at Living Health Care.  We lived at Alexandria at the time so it could have been considered quite a journey to take once to twice per week, but I would have travelled to Darwin once a week at this point if it was going to bring us our much desired baby.  

Michelle ran the statistics:-

• you have 22% chance of falling pregnant naturally every month
• +40% chance of falling pregnant on IVF
• 67% chance of falling pregnant on IVF whilst doing acupuncture treatment

I asked Michelle in my ever most delicate way what her 'hit rate' was!  Modestly, she answered that if clients had an embryo transfer when she believed their body was balanced enough, she had a 100% hit rate.  

My body began responding to acupuncture after my first treatment.  I was amazed.  My husband thought it was a whole lot of rubbish at the time. He thought we would be the ones to screw up Michelle's 100% hit rate!  He is of a VERY different opinion now.  I was seeing Michelle as regularly as she could fit me in, which was once every one to two weeks.  Michelle put me on to the worst tasting herbs ever but again, I would have eaten dirt to make this work!  I was willing to do whatever it took to get pregnant.  See?  It becomes an obsession of sorts doesn't it?  

I did the necessary needles, had all the scans and blood tests associated with IVF treatment.  When the time came for egg retrieval, we had 11 eggs retrieved, and 3 healthy eggs fertilised to the standard that the embryologist was happy with.  I cannot speak for all IVF clinics, only the one we were with, but their standards were high!  In speaking with the embryologist (gosh they are passionate about what they do - they are INCREDIBLE!) she said they are in the business of making babies, not disappointing couples with a failed pregnancy attempt. Hence the standards. I liked their way of thinking.  

My doctor was pleasantly surprised at the amount of eggs retrieved (for my age) - that was the herbs working.  But wait, there's more....

So as you know by now, the one embryo we had transferred, took.  Michelle, the acupuncturist, had me place an acupuncture needle in the crown of my head (do not try this at home - you need the exact spot!) in order to make my uterus hold the pregnancy. I did this daily for the first 12 weeks.  I literally looked like a martian, but by now you know the deal about me willing to do anything.  I was finally pregnant.  I was not about to stuff it all by worrying about what people thought of a needle in my head!  My confirmed pregnancy test came back so strong that both the IVF clinic and my doctor suggested it could be that my one embryo had split to identical twins.  It was 4 times the required levels!  When I spoke with Michelle about this, she laughed and said it was the herbs. That is how powerful they are and hence why she was intent on me taking them. My embryo was one healthy little tacker. 

Roll on 9 months.  As I said, I had the best pregnancy ever.  I was not sick because my body was balanced from the acupuncture.  Seriously, you have GOT to try this!  After 12 weeks, my treatments moved to monthly.  I had a treatment with Michelle at 38.5 weeks to help prepare me and our baby for the birth.  He was prepared alright. I went into labour very early the following morning delivering a very healthy baby boy.  Apgar scores reading like his current school report!

Our son was two days old when I made mention to my husband that I could not wait to be pregnant again.  Be careful what you wish for!

I visited Michelle again about a month after having our son just to re-balance my hormones and my body.  I fell pregnant again naturally with our second son just two weeks after that.  We did not plan to fall pregnant.  Even my doctor had said at my 6 week check up that we would commence IVF again in 12 - 18 months. I had asked about contraception but he laughed and said I had needed help with my first pregnancy, what made me think I wasn't going to need help with subsequent pregnancies!  Neither of us knew at the time I was indeed already pregnant.  But when I re-appeared in his rooms 4 weeks after that, he just looked at me and said "so....you're back."

By no stretch am I endorsing pregnancies so close together.  My body had clearly gotten over its trauma, for falling pregnant anyway.  Sometimes I think the body just needs a helping hand to realise it is capable of doing what it has been designed to do.

In sharing my story I hope that it might help a woman currently struggling to fall pregnant and looking everywhere for answers.  I was there.  And it hurts in countless ways.  I'm not saying these are the answers, just that I found mine in reflexology, acupuncture and a damn good IVF doctor and clinic.  

It can be a tough road.  Tougher than anyone can imagine because each of our stories and journeys are different.  I personally wish you well on your journey towards parenthood.  I hope you find your answers, but more importantly, hope you get the little bundle you are dreaming for.

A Different Kind of Mother's Day

As Mother's Day 2015 looms, I am pondering my first Mother's Day without my Mum.

I have a new appreciation for what it is my girlfriends who have already lost their mothers have experienced.

It was only recently that Mum passed away - the week before Easter - so 5 weeks now.  She had been sick for the two months prior: a month of testing, followed by a month of knowing she'd be leaving us soon.


Everyone has their time to go and at 78, I would say that Mum had a pretty good innings.  She lived a life that ticked all of her boxes - wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and SO much more, but those first 4 are what she prided herself on the most.

But even at 78, as her child, it still feels too soon. 

Mum and I didn't have a close mother-daughter relationship.  It was just the way it was.  She was still my Mum though and it leaves a profound gap with her no longer being here.

It's true.  Reality does bite.  For the most part, I feel I am fine and at peace with Mum now in Heaven.  I still have moments though - and I never know when they're coming! - that the realness of Mum no longer being here hits me like a brick to the face.

In my haste of grabbing a couple of quick items at the supermarket recently, I was confronted when turning the corner of the aisle to almost take out the Mother's Day card display!  I remember thinking in what would have been about 2 nanoseconds,

"Oh yeah, must remember that",

"Oh wait, I don't need to this year" (which was VERY confronting and I could feel the tears welling so then thought...)

"Stuff it, she is still my Mum no matter where she is, I'm buying a card" and just like that, the first card I actually looked at was written in the most appropriate way for me to 'give' to my recently deceased mother.  Uncanny how things work.

Navigating the concept of death and Heaven with 4 and 5 year olds has also been an important part of my grieving process.  To explain in a format that little minds will understand where Grandma has gone, why she had to go and how we will recognise her ongoing presence with us has shown me just how beautiful and special death can be.  It slows you down and it makes you realise that a 4 and 5 year old are at times capable of teaching more than they are taught.  Their acceptance and their faith is unmatched.

Though the year of 'firsts' following a loved ones death always brings its challenges, I must admit, it will be my family and my faith that will continue to make this coming Mother's Day a truly special one.  Simply because Mum is no longer on earth does not mean she is no longer with us.  No matter where Mum is, she is still our Mum.  Our family will joke that she may have less input on the day, but with our faith, I actually can't be so sure!



Happy Mother's Day Mum.
I took this photo the day you passed away
 - the only rose blooming in your front garden xxx
 






Mother's Groups - To Join Or Not To Join? That Is The Question.

When I was pregnant with my first son, I pondered this exact question: should I join a mother's group?  

I thought that if you did the ante-natal classes, the women in those classes became your mother's group.  I am still unsure on this point.  However, being a planned caesar, and therefore believing I wouldn't need to know how to breathe my way through a labour I wouldn't have (yeah right, if you have read my previous posts....!!) I didn't sign up for those classes, just the 'what to do with your newborn' class.

I enquired as to the benefit of joining a mother's group.  My cousin was pregnant with her second at the same time I was pregnant with my first.  So I asked if she had joined a mum's group and what she thought.  I have never forgotten what she said because it rang so true when I did eventually join my own mother's group.

She said:-

It is a group of women who you may not have otherwise met.  Yet you will share the bond of having your first born's roughly at the same time and therefore going through the same things - give or take - so you connect.  To this day, they are a group of women that I would always give the time of day to, even if I have not seen them for months or years, because we share something that I don't share with anyone else.

That sold me.

The idea of a sisterhood at a time I would be embarking on something TOTALLY foreign to me sounded like what I would want and need.  I had a zillion nieces and nephews before I became a mum, but nothing is like having your own child twenty four hours a day, seven days a week!

Within the first week or two of coming home from hospital, the midwife visited our home to check on the baby and I.  We signed up for her mother's groups meetings.  We would meet for 4 consecutive weeks with her (the midwife) and after that, should we choose to still meet, we were on our own.  

On our own!  What?  No guidance?  

We met on our designated day.  I remember looking around the room at all the new mum's and the even newer babies.  There were 11 of us from memory, with a total of 12 bubs. Yes, one woman had twins, just a few weeks old.  Not only did she show up, but she was pretty much there on time, and looked completely comfortable shuffling the two babies around to hold and cradle them.  I am still in awe of this woman.  It was all I could do to get myself dressed in somewhat co-ordination, run a brush through my hair, and three point turn my pram successfully, let alone get the 'morning rush out the door' routine down pat with two kids!!  I decided that some people are just quite literally, incredible.  

On week two one of the girls turned up with morning tea to boot!  Home made.  Oh please!  How come I was the only one who seemed to be thrown for six in finding my new 'normal'?

Fast forward to the end of week four.  It was going to be time for us to be on our own, if we chose to continue our gatherings.  The following week would be Melbourne Cup.  Well, it is just plain un-Australian not to celebrate it in some way, shape or form.  A conveniently located pub that could accommodate space for prams was thrown into the ring as a suggestion.  Okay, so it was the only suggestion.  Why look for others when the first idea made sense?

We continued our weekly catch ups at various venues.  Coffees, lunches, park visits, whatever worked.  There were about 9 of us at this stage (plus bubs).  We would discuss anything and everything.  Nothing was off limits and judgement never entered the equation.  I think that is why the topics were so open.  We could be ourselves - good and bad - and just be accepted and more importantly, supported.

I remember my husband commenting after we had attended one of the kids' 3rd birthday parties just how apparent the bond is between us mum's in the mum's group.  It made me proud and it made me smile.  Because what he said is true.  We look out for each other. And we look out for each other's kids too.

Our catch-ups became less frequent as we all either went back to work, moved, or had second babies.  Lunches turned to dinners.  With alcohol.  And no kids.  

We caught up just last Saturday night.  It was brilliant.  We are all so genuinely excited to be in each other's company.  We share something special.  Even down to stories that will be shared with us and no-one else.  Because we get it and we get each other.  We do share something unique.  We experienced our first borns together.  For most of us, our paths wouldn't have crossed otherwise.  Our babies are our common denominator.  Our babies who are all nearly 5 and heading to school next year!

So if you are pregnant right now and wondering whether or not to join a mother's group, the decision is entirely yours.  But this has been my take on the immeasurable value that my mother's group has meant and still means, to me.

What's Your Favourite....Mum Moment?

I could write a post on how special Mother's are, on what it takes to be a Mum (or Mummy as I still am at this stage) and the qualities only a Mother could have.  But if you are a Mum or have/had one, you know exactly what I am talking about anyway!

Instead, let's chat about our favourite moment of being a Mum or with our Mum.

Many moons ago, that many in fact I can't remember if it was a nephew or a niece, a First Holy Communion or a Confirmation that we were attending at our parish Church.  It was one of those occasions though where seats were being taken up quickly so an early arrival to the Church was warranted. The Bishop was coming!

There we were, in our pew, with seats rapidly filling around us.  I was seated next to my Mum.  With about 5 minutes to go before the service began, Mum leaned across to me and asked "Love, did I put mascara on both eyes?"

Without even looking I knew the answer. Still, I checked just to be sure.

She hadn't.

It really didn't matter for the one eye that did have mascara because by the time we managed to compose ourselves again, that eye's mascara had run all over the place anyway!

How on earth does that happen?  How do you get distracted mid application and never get back to it?

And of all places to ask? Church. 

We couldn't laugh out loud. That would be inappropriate! Rather we sat there with shoulders jumping up and down with our muffled laughter, tears rolling down our foundation streaked cheeks, and continued to do the pretend cough throughout the service when the thought popped back into our heads and we started all over again. 

In hindsight, through two mascara'd eyes please, we shouldn't have continued to sit beside one another that day! 

Happy Mother's Day!

Ah, I still laugh.

What has been your favourite Mum moment?

To all the Mum's out there, to those who will be remembering their Mum's this Sunday, for those who will be experiencing their first Mother's Day or their first Mother's Day without their Mum, to those Mum's who have lost their child, I wish you all a very special Mother's Day.  May Sunday be a day for you.  A day of memories made or memories cherished.

Photo credit to beautyswot.com

The Right Way To Raise A Child

Being pregnant and then parenting opens up a whole can of controversial worms doesn't it?  
Many who have gone before us in the parenting department feel the need to share their wisdom - asked for or not.  Society throws in their two cents worth placing many women and indeed couples into a situation of undue pressure.  Going out on a limb here I will say that I believe this may be where post natal depression can begin, and the child has not even been born yet.  Such is the pressure to conform.

Drugs in labour, your choice of birth, breast-feeding, the use of dummies, where the child sleeps, circumcision, controlled crying, immunisation, smacking, returning to work - the list literally goes on and on.

Due to health reasons, our whole parental experience was unorthodox from the start. We underwent IVF for our first child, he was born via caesarian section under a general anaesthetic (me, not him), was not breast-fed and had a dummy on day two of his life! Jeepers, he had only made it to day two and we had begun bending the rules.  

We continued to bend the rules with our second child being born only 10 months after our first. Yes, apparently we could fall pregnant ourselves.  Who'd-a thunk it?  I remember one of the nurses (who mustn't have seen me on the first round) commenting that there was a mother on the ward at the moment who also had a 10 month old.  I came clean and told her it was actually me!  Priceless.  I've never had so many people enquire as to my future methods of contraception!  Trust me, we hadn't planned it that way.  How could we plan for something we had no idea was possible?  But after walking the path of perhaps never having children to then having two, we were delighted.

Prior to delivering our first son, I was subjected to a situation reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition justifying my choice not to breast feed.  That was in a phonecall.  My husband and I then had to meet with the chief lactation consultant "once we had thought about it" to confirm "our" decision. Um, as far as I was aware, my husband wasn't going to be breast-feeding either!  Then fate stepped in.  We were in such a rush to leave for our appointment with her that I got moisturiser in my eyes, rendering them red and watery. I'm sure the lactation consultant thought I'd spent the morning in tears in anticipation of our appointment that she was a lot more supportive of my decision and accordingly noted on my file what my choice was.

I believe that a woman should be supported by whatever her decision is in feeding her child.  The bottom line was, I was still going to feed him!  If a woman chooses to breast-feed then she should be 100% supported. Likewise if she chooses not to.  Likewise again if her choice to breast-feed unfortunately doesn't work out.  She should not be made to feel like she has let her child and her family down. The impact this can have on her is too great.  

As one of my girlfriends so aptly put it, if a criminal is brought before the courts, the judge does not ask "were you breast fed or bottle fed as a youngster?"

I recall offering the dummy to my son on day two of his life whilst waiting for his bottle to arrive.  He took to it like a duck to water.  I could hear the nurse coming and tried to extract it from his mouth knowing she would disapprove, but that little tacker had a stronger suck than I could have anticipated and he won.  Yep, two days old and we had the baby equivalent of an arm wrestle! On the one hand I was so proud that my child displayed such strength, but mortified that I may be judged in my choice. When the nurse walked in, I stood there like I had been caught red-handed stealing something. Thankfully she only half-frowned upon the situation.  It must have been the look on my face.

I'm not intending to call down nurses in this.  It's not that at all.  I praise the roles our nurses do and do with such passion.  The nurses whose care I was under on both occasions with having our children, I could not speak more highly of.  I understand that part of their role is delivering the message of what they have learned is best for our newborns.  I get it.  I just believe that if our choices are different to this, it is not because we don't want what is best for our child.  Absolutely we do.

The pressure to do everything right, whatever, however and from whom ever that may be, is just immense. We, as mothers, put a lot of this pressure on ourselves.  There isn't room for anymore.

Whether it be dummies, toilet-training, allowing your child to sleep in your room, or even your bed, does it really matter?  My husband and I figure if it works for us, it's right.  The fact of the matter is, time is fleeting.  Everything is a phase.  They won't be doing it when they're 18 so why stress?  Gosh, there'll be new issues to worry about by then!

We have structure in our home.  The children need it and we need it.  We also go with the flow as they grow and change, and alter the nature of our structure accordingly.  They are still alive, they are healthy, they are polite, active, fun-filled learning sponges.  Most importantly, they are loved.  

What I have learned in being a parent is that there are many right ways to raising your child.  You keep trying different ways until you find what works for you.  It may be different to how others are doing things but who cares?  If it's working - for your child, for you, for your family - then it's right.

Ironman and childbirth - the same thing?

Let me precede this by acknowledging the fact I do not have a competitive bone in my body.  The likelihood of me ever even wanting to do an Ironman event is pretty much zilch.  Not even pretty much, it is just none.

Let me also say that I have the utmost respect for those men and women who do choose to undertake an Ironman event.  All of the training followed by the event itself just blow my mind.  My non-competitive self cannot fathom the desire to swim 3.8kms, ride a bike for 180km and run a marathon (42km), when there are perfectly good functioning cars and boats available to take you these distances in a fraction of the time!  

My husband is currently in training for this years Cairns Ironman in June.  I always try to relate to what people are going through, however as mentioned in the preceding paragraphs, I'm unable to fully empathise with what he is undertaking....or can I? 

It occurred to me that my version of an Ironman - in which case I have completed two - is pregnancy and childbirth. 

No, no, seriously, let's think about this for a second.  A triathlete trains for months beforehand swimming, running and riding in preparation for 'race' day.  Whilst mothers grow a child for months beforehand in preparation for 'delivery' day, our training also consists of three legs: reading books, ante-natal classes and pregnancy yoga!  We do this, only to realise the only real training of any benefit was the yoga because no book or class prepares you for the truth of parenthood adequately enough!  

Nutrition is of the utmost importance in both camps.  Both triathletes and mothers are mindful of what we put into our bodies because of the job at hand: we are preparing bodies - the triathletes their own, the mothers their childs.  I do admit, whilst the triathlete may consume protein smoothies, my equivalent was the chocolate milkshake! Gaining a good amount of sleep and having 'rest' days are on the agenda as well.  A triathletes sleep is shortened by the early training sessions, a mothers by her growing (and perpetually moving) bump and seemingly smaller bladder. 

Then comes race day.

Labour can last just as long, if not longer, than the duration of an Ironman event.  Both triathletes and mothers allow their bodies to be tested like never before, pushing ourselves beyond normal everyday limits.  We convince ourselves to keep going even when we want to give up (a harder prospect for the mother of course), swearing we will never do it again (and then we do), to finally cross that longed for finish line.  

We are both congratulated at the end with our prize: the Ironman medal or baby (don't confuse your event and take the wrong one home!)  We kept our eye on the prize the whole time we undertook the event and it was knowing we would accomplish that prize that kept us going.  That, and remembering our why.  The 'why' for completing an Ironman is different for everyone.  Suffice to say though that for many, it is something on their bucket list.  Many women long to become mothers, though the why surrounding this is often questioned during the process of labour and on occasion in the years following!

I do confess that both of my births were by caesarian section.  I did however endure labour with my first child for a period of time.  I take my hat off to women who 'do' labour, and especially mothers who I then see doing an actual Ironman event.  Wow!  I cannot contemplate their threshold for pain.  My only pacifying thought is that they have the benchmark of childbirth and figure they can get through anything!  

As for my husband and his lead up to Cairns, I get it.  I've done two Ironman events.  My prizes talk to me everyday.  I love it.  They have been worth everything that you give up and sacrifice in order to say "I did it" come race day!

Taking My Hat Off To Persistency

Filled with anticipation I eagerly watched the 60 Minutes update story on Mary Coustas and her husband George Betsis and their quest to become parents.  If you hadn't seen or heard, I won't keep you in suspense.  It happened, healthily, on November 25, 2013 when their beautiful daughter Jamie was born.  I was and still am absolutely thrilled for them that their dream really has finally come true.

If memory serves me, Mary had said she lost count at how many IVF attempts they underwent, but calls it at least 20.  Twenty! 

My husband and I underwent one IVF cycle.  Just one.  It is a big ask of a woman's body with all of the injections, ultrasounds and monitoring.  Walking with ovaries full of eggs is no mean feat I can tell you.  Egg retrieval is uncomfortable and painful.  Like many things, unless you have done it, it can be hard to comprehend just what is required and what your body goes through.  Personally, I think with IVF it is mandatory to keep your eye on the prize.

I can distinctly remember discussing a 'Plan B' with my husband.  If our first IVF cycle was unsuccessful, what was our Plan B?  I knew I would need another focus, quickly, if Plan A went pear-shaped.  Our Plan B was simple.  We had two embryos stored.  If our first attempt was unsuccessful, we would allow ourselves the sadness and disappointment that is only natural with not being told the magic words of 'you're pregnant', then we would dust ourselves off and get ready for attempt number two.  

Emotionally though, I really didn't know if I could take it.  I have only described the physical toll IVF preparation takes in the earlier paragraph.  The emotional toll is almost overwhelming.  Desire is what gets you to the IVF clinic and is what keeps you going. What is overwhelming is knowing damn well IVF is your last resort to fall pregnant.  If this doesn't work, there is nothing else.  Nothing.  Nahda. Zip.  

We were fortunate that our one and only IVF attempt resulted in my pregnancy and delivery of our healthy first born son.

To repeat that process twenty times?  Wow.  My heart breaks and I literally shed tears to think of the sheer disappointment Mary and George faced time and time again.  The questions they must have asked - of themselves, of their specialists.  I take my hat off to Mary and George. That is one hell of a commitment to their desire: a desire to become parents and a desire to exhaust ALL avenues.  Giving up just wasn't on the cards for them.  

Jamie Betsis sure does have some awesome parents. I'd like to be a fly on the wall the very first (and I am sure only) time she says "I can't, it's too hard."  Now that will be an interesting discussion!

At Not So Secret Women's Business, it's about giving credit where credit is due.  It is definitely due on this occasion.  Congratulations to the Betsis family.  With persistency came reward.


Photo credit: 60 Minutes

Can Time Be Booked For Speeding?

Being only ten months apart, for two months of the year our children are the same age. Our eldest 3 year old celebrated his 4th birthday through the week with much excitement, a countdown of how many sleeps to go, lots of cake and of course presents! 

As their mum, I regularly watch in awe at both of my boys learning and growing, but this week there was a lot of contemplation about the last four years and just how quickly that time really does fly.  Everyone tells you it will and experience tells you it's true, though you do second guess just how quickly time will fly when in the midst of sleep deprived nights and days and willing your children to reach that magical age of 'sleeping through'. Then you realise it is not an age but a stage.  Everything is a stage.  Sometimes you are ready and welcome the next stage, like their first steps (and sleeping through the night). Other times the next stage appears and you didn't see it coming, like when they don't want to be held in your arms to have their bottle anymore.  I have come to realise that the stage you weren't ready to farewell as yet is ultimately replaced with a new stage that is equally gratifying.  They may not want to be held for their bottle anymore, but at that age, they can't tell you they love you either, or simply call you 'Mummy' - my best job title and role yet even though it is the hardest role I've ever undertaken!

For my son's birthday, his kindy made him a special page with his photo and his foot and hand prints.  It was a realisation of just how big that hoof is compared with the tiny newborn trotter just (what seems like) five minutes ago!  You know when you see a puppy with REALLY big paws and you just know that one day that puppy will grow into those paws and be a huge dog?  Yep, that is my son's footprint.  And yet, where I look at it now and think how big it is, when he turns twenty four, I will reminisce at how small it was.

They say that time flies when you are having fun.  I must be having a ball!  I have made a concerted effort this year to be 'in the moment' with the expectation in doing this that time will some how seem to slow down.  It hasn't.  It is satisfying living this way, I am constantly in a state of awareness.  As for time though, no, weeks and months are still zooming past at a rapid rate of knots to the point where it should be booked for speeding!